The 'G' Train

Checking In

2012-02-02T12:21:00.000-08:00

For those of you that are curious, we are still alive. And really, I would like a blog to look back on, but when I think of posting I become too overwhelmed with actually taking the time to do it. I suppose I should simplify and just do what is easy and efficient, maybe post a picture a few times a week (which would perhaps generate more photos) and if there is time to write, I will write. No pressure though.

We are doing well. My children are pretty fantastic (mostly), there have been a few highlights and maybe later I will put them up in cyber space. We took a trip to Moab a few weeks ago and the top two pictures pretty much speak as to the mood. Some time was spent moping and whining. Some was spent in happiness. Such is life. It was a sort of epiphany for me, my mother probably endured many road trips, gutting them out for our sakes. Thank you mom. It is all gold and bliss for us. As for my children, I hope they have fond memories of Moab. I will choose to only remember pieces:)

I am so good. So much better than I have been in, well, a few years. I was really pretty sick for about a year and a half. The thing is I really didn't know or understand it. It progressively became worse over time, I was always complaining to my friends and family that I just didn't feel well, that I was exhausted, and that there was something wrong. My running was horrible, sometimes I would have to stop and put my head between my knees. My iron was low, I saw a doctor, did blood work, experimented with all kinds of stuff, but didn't get better. I know this is a tale, but because of the way I feel now, I feel like I need to shout it from the roof tops. Anyway, around Thanksgiving I saw a doctor again to no avail. On my car ride home I was lamenting my fate and sincerely, I heard a voice tell me what I needed to do. I needed to go gluten-free and sugar-free. And I did, and I have! Within a week all of my ailments subsided, I have tremendous energy, have lost 11 pounds and am so grateful! My running is the best it has ever been (with the exception of when I was 100 lbs and 16.) And really, I can't say enough about how wonderful I feel, it really is miraculous! So if I go on and on sometimes about my food or health, please forgive me. I am not selling anything, I am just giddy that my food truly was my medicine.

Until next time.

Us

2011-10-13T13:31:00.000-07:00

Norah, is doing well in school, it's a full-time job for me, but she enjoys learning and achieving and is leading her class in completing challenges which bring only a star as credit. She is still so creative and enjoys spending time in her own world which is lovely at the appropriate times, if you know what I mean.

Lulu is a great student, she loves to learn, and spends hours reading. She is slightly obsessive, but oh well, I am learning new talents. I love how her school photos turned out. There is a fine line between Lulu looking beautiful and crazy, former school photos have been the evidence.

Abram, oh Abram. Abram took initiative and has taught himself to read. This is good because maybe the trillion questions that spill from his mouth every day can be directed toward books.

Abram has a potty mouth problem. He spits out a poop head every few seconds, he tried out penis head last week, and then Sunday, at church, in the foyer, in front of a number of our neighbors, he yelled sh#$ head at Norah. Most definitely one of my finer parenting moments.

Rosemary insists she is not a big girl but my baby. If there is something she doesn't want to do, she tells me she is going to throw up. She also has picked up the habit of telling me "I not happy" all day long with a few "I happy" thrown in when she gets her way. She really is quite sweet and tender, but she seems to be going through some post traumatic stress since I pushed her out of her infancy to toddlerhood by making her wear panties.

Brad continues to be the fun parent and works hard for our family. He is also the first assistant in the high priest group in our church and his job is to attend to all the single ladies-his dream job:)

I am really skyrocketing toward being a domestic goddess with my vast array of serious cleaning, cooking, sewing and gardening skills. But seriously, intellectually I understand the need for families and the training ground they are for following the foot steps of the Savior. But there are times when I think: who said I want to be like God anyway? And then there are times that I recognize the distance that I have traveled. I am not the same person I was 10 years ago, good riddance! The Lord has blessed my work with talents and skills that I never knew I could learn (nor wanted to learn in some cases.) And for this I am grateful.

Now for the important stuff: My husband hates my new red lipstick. I adore it.

So you have before you two difficult alternatives:

1. Get rid of the lipstick

2. Get rid of the husband

Choose carefully because I really do love the lipstick.

Bribes...

2011-09-30T08:23:00.000-07:00

every last one. You can call me whatever type of mother you want. But I call it survival friends.

And it's not all bad.

I've decided (after my 8 years of mothering) that the exhaustion and the pure rawness of motherhood is the constant vacillation-back and forth, up and down. I sit here now, with the window open to the cool morning air, the clip, clip, clipping of tiny feet run down my hill toward the school and happy cheery voices ring in the morning sun. But upstairs is a vomiting child, and in the kitchen is a mess, and on the rug is a son with pinching fingers and a vocabulary which seems to be limited to poop and knuckle head.

But the light is pretty and the cat is soft.

And I am making progress on Rosemary's queen quilt, which does teach me that by simple means great things are created.

Today is my Birthday:

2011-08-03T07:45:00.000-07:00

I'll be cleaning floors, doing laundry, fixing hair, running errands, and listening to some serious complaining.

But tomorrow, I will be boarding a plane to Minneapolis by myself. I will be driving a rental car for 2 and a half hours by myself. I will be spending four nights in a motel by myself. And I will be partying with my childhood friends for two whole nights at my TWENTY YEAR REUNION, all by myself!

Talk about happy birthday to me!

Grey

2011-07-29T12:00:00.000-07:00

Photo: May, 2011

Around our three garden beds are planted Scottish and Irish moss. I imagined these to be perfect fillers inbetween the flagstone steps that create a pathway between the boxes. While they are pretty and spread easily, they capture numerous weeds which are hard to pull because of the denseness of the moss, which leads us to yesterday.
In the aftermath of our trip the weeds have taken up some serious high-density residence around my vegetable gardens. In an effort to bring some neatness to this corner of the yard, I bribed the kids with the promise of a snow-cone if they helped pull the weeds, collect them, and place them in the wheelbarrow.
We pulled and pulled, and there was murmuring indeed. It was hot, there were spiders and bees, the weeds were trapped under rocks and so forth. Then Lulu burst out with one of her insights: Mom, does Satan make weeds? Before I could answer, Norah answerd: Yes, God only makes pretty stuff.
At this time I giggled, but also thought for a moment, this could be one of my lazy-mother times (which I totally opt for occasionally) or I could use this to continue a conversation we had a few months ago.
During spring break, I took the children to visit the Hill Air-force base museum. In anticipation, I hadn't thought much about the museum, it was just something to do. But there were photos, and bombs, and guns, and planes with interesting "art" on them, which of course, lead to many questions. There have been plenty of times when I have been thoughtless, but I don't want to be glib about war.
Then, on memorial day, as we traveled down the main street, my children asked about all the flags placed on the businesses. Talk of war leads to the obvious questions for a child: who are the good guys and who are the bad guys and why do people kill each other?

I remember as a child, and occasionally still now, despite my age, the feelings of being "right" as opposed to those who are "wrong", or "good" as opposed to those who are "bad". These feeling don't provide for much learning, they produce a feeling of pride and they put enmity between myself and others.
I know as a child it is so much more simple to compartmentalize people and issues. Unfortunately, I see too much of it continue into adulthood, whether on Facebook, blogs, or in daily conversation. Thoughts arise in my mind often that dismiss any allowance for insight or thoughtfulness and it is work to rise above it.
I often believe that some of the sweetness and beauty in life come from the struggle to push through this and arrive at empathy. Life would be simple if it was as cut and dry as black and white. But I don't believe life was meant to be simple, it is complex and multi-dimensional for our growth.
This isn't to say that evil doesn't exist. I know it does, I've seen it. We all have choices to make, some are better than others. Most people are mixed bags on their own journey. I believe that when we allow ourselves to talk and think more deliberately, we see ourselves more clearly along with our own weaknesses and deficiencies, and we allow for charity. And if I come away from teaching my children nothing else, I want them to be left with charity. There are many things I don't know or understand about life, but I do know that charity will not fail them.

Pure Michigan

2011-07-22T13:09:00.000-07:00

Without any encouragement, Rosemary will strike a pose whenever a camera is pointed in her direction. I really love her, she is such a fun, free little girl. I laugh and giggle at her impromptu performances regularly. At the end of such a performance she will reply to clapping by saying: Thank you very much!

Abram learned how to ride a bike without training wheels while in Michigan. It was of course, the perfect place to do so with its rural roads and lack of steep hills.

Lulu learned to love the water and loved spending time with her cousins. She has truly developed some serious friendship skills in the past 2 years.

Norah, Norah, Norah. Norah lead the pack in the bike riding, the walking, the castle building and the fossil finding. Norah is growing up.

Brad was the king of the road on the way out, the champion badminton player, an awesome rock-skipper-teacher, and a good husband and father.

I was the queen of squinting into the sunlight, keeping my "Michigan hair" under control this year (it never came out of the braid), wearing cool skirts in the heat (so much better than shorts), and learning to enjoy just sitting there.

Back

2011-07-19T08:03:00.001-07:00

We just returned from our trip to Michigan. 30 hour drive there and back. It's like I'm a pioneer or something, because my Denali is pretty much like a hand cart.

The weather was perfect. The water was cool and crisp. The air was heavenly.

I mostly sat on the beach, under my umbrella reading while watching my children swim or play in sand for 2 whole weeks. Sometimes I took breaks to swim out to the raft or our Norah sail boat.

Eons from swimming pools, sod, and suburbia. It really doesn't get better.

I have so many photos to come. Will you humor me?

The Week the Heat Hit.

2011-06-24T14:07:00.000-07:00

It's hot, which means my children don't really want to be outside. And it's been busy which means I am doubly irritable from the heat and expectations.

It's Friday and I feel a little guilty about being snappy at my children.

My garden has exploded. Good for the flowers. Bad for trying to eat all of my lettuce and greens, do you like salad? Please come get some.

On Tuesday we went to the Joseph Smith memorial building to have dinner for my mother's 60th birthday. Of course I love my family and enjoy the laughter and easiness of it all.

What I don't like are seated photos which make me look like a chunk. You cannot tell me otherwise. My sister Sarah is having her baby as I write this. Yay.

My husband and his sunglasses.

Wednesday we had our annual "Lehi" dinner with our friends the Smiths and the Hills. I don't know why it is only annual, the Hills pretty much live in our back yard and the Smiths live just across the highway.

Thursday night I met up with a few companions and sisters from my mission.

It's interesting after all these years the evolution of my memory and what others remember. As we laughed and compared stories, I realized I really only remember the good of a mission. It is golden and polished in my mind's eye and for this I am grateful. We seemed to remember all of the things we (ourselves) did wrong, but for some reason we have forgiven and forgotten most other wrongs.

Of all the choices and stories I have made thus far, the mission I served is the dearest and greatest. My marriage and children are still being written day by day. But my mission was finite and encapsulated in a tidy piece that inhabits my heart, and is mine forever to be grateful for. And oh boy, am I grateful for it.

I am also grateful for salad. Do you want some? Swiss card?

Self-Improvement

2011-06-20T13:25:00.001-07:00

You know those pictures of pantries that have beautiful glass containers lined perfectly on the shelves and everything seems to be color coordinated and they are almost too pretty to hide behind a door? Do those people have children? Or pets?

Well my pantry doesn't look like those pantries.

Norah needs to earn money for Activity Days camp and I need to deep clean my "zones". Today's zone was the kitchen, so Norah and I cleaned the pantry.

I usually know it's time to clean and organize the pantry when dog food sticks to the bottom of my feet as I am leaving the untidy food closet. The reason that dog food is usually carpeting my pantry floor is because the cat sneaks into the pantry and rips a hole in the bottom of the bag and soon dog food is dispersed to all four corners. I know you think perhaps there is a solution to the dog food and cat problem, but the cat is helpful in a few ways if not at keeping a clean pantry. And the dog, well, the vet told me that I could extend her life by 3-4 years by brushing her teeth so I sure as heck won't be brushing her teeth.

Anyway, I ordered some large buckets to keep the dog food and cat food out of paws way. I also am waiting on a few of those pretty french hermetic terrines to make me feel a little bit better about how I store my lentils, couscous, vital wheat, and flax seed. But this was the best I could do:

That little door is for gnomes.

And to the father of my children: Thank you for loving them as much as I do and teaching them the fun stuff.

Don't talk to me about Rosemary's pacifier. I pick my battles. That's not one. Did I mention that she screams when she comes near a toilet?

And to my own father: Thank you for the big eyes (I think they are my best feature) and an idyllic childhood. Go Michigan!

On Paradox...

2011-06-15T12:55:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, I was complaining to my husband that I didn't feel that the culture I lived in allowed for much honesty when it came to being a mother and raising children. In fact, I think I said something about wishing we could just be more honest about what goes on behind closed doors, or even what happens in public for that matter.

I think it is common in an LDS culture to believe that if things are difficult, or if you aren't happy all of the time, you must be doing something wrong. And I know that there are moms who are "having the most fun they have ever had" and I know that there are seasons, but I also know that there are women who suffer behind those doors because they feel a tremendous burden raising their children. I happen to be one, but I don't know that it is behind any door.

I am grateful, in fact I feel very lucky in life, but happiness? It is very fleeting, my days are extremely stressful, and it's no exaggeration to say I often feel as if I've made the wrong career choice. So when I read this article, and then read many blog responses to it, including that Satan must be behind the article, it causes me to wonder about "happiness" and what it really means.

Back to my culture or perhaps better described as my community: not long after my complaining, we had a tragedy in my neighborhood, in fact the last year has been a tough one for the women of my ward. In response to this tragedy, we had a special Relief Society meeting about trials and hardships and I felt an outpouring of the Lord's love.

The Lord has never promised that the things he asks us to do will bring us immediate happiness. And happiness isn't the same thing as joy. I believe in joy, I believe that if I do the best I can and keep picking myself up, I will have joy in the work I do. Maybe not right now. It is a mountain, there is joy in the journey but there is also sadness, and exasperation, and exhaustion. And that is OK. It is all a part of the plan. I am grateful that the Lord has given me a woman to visit teach who struggles with a difficult child. She struggles daily, but she is faithful. She teaches me to have more faith in the Lord's plan.

I often think of the mission I served as a microcosm of life, really all that was left after those 18 months are the relationships. And they bring me joy. I feel so much overwhelming joy when I think of the beautiful experience that was my mission. I learned so much and evolved into a mature woman, I learned to love and trust Jesus Christ. I laughed and did have fun. But when I look at journals and am reminded by fleeting memories, I remember it was hard, so hard, painfully hard. I don't know that I would go back to those same situations. That difficulty and those hardships and pain is a great part of the joy.

So if you ever feel forlorn, think of me, sitting on my front porch at 7 pm with my head in my hands. And know that I pick pieces of happiness where I can find them.

They usually aren't found in the car. Too many tantrums.

But something simple like Rosemary's treasure lunch box that she carries everywhere will make me smile.

Or the fact that sometimes, they are actually friends.

More than happiness, I think I need to have faith. And I do know that faith brings joy. And joy isn't fleeting, it lasts forever.

Recently...

2011-06-13T13:06:00.001-07:00

Norah had her last day of school. I warned her that I hated the last day of school, I don't like endings and saying goodbye to friends and teachers was always tough. I don't think she took my experience very seriously.

She was upset that I attempted to take a photo of her crying. You will appreciate this one day Norah.

A week later Lulu had her last day. I brought her potted flowers to give her teachers on the last day. As I watched Lulu give one of her teachers the flowers I saw her whisper to Lulu: I love you. I cried and cried. I'm not entirely sure why. It is difficult for me to have time move on and to be unable to return to relationships or moments. Things come to an end and that is it, there is no returning.

Rosemary has been something else, don't let this cute face fool you. You never know what you will get with her. She is the little girl who had a little curl.

Much of my time is spent dealing with Abram. Abram is smart but that wrinkle between my brows is going to need some botox soon.

I usually make very few desserts but the girls and I have to make use of all the strawberries we seem to have so we've been making tarts.

My garden is in bloom! These are its first offerings.

There is a fair amount of work involved in the spring, but I really enjoy it and it's so exciting to wake up in the early morning and join the birds and see what has sprung overnight-better than Christmas morning.

This is my favorite spot, it smells so good and is usually covered with big,fat, furry bumble bees.

I planted quite a bit of greens and lettuces this year and it has been delicious.

We have been reading truck-loads of books.

I've made many quilts. Someday I will post them all.

I've made quite a few curtains as well. While purchasing the linen for these curtains from IKEA, Rosemary knocked over an enormous display and for about 2 seconds I thought my baby was dead. Rosemary doesn't get to go to IKEA with me anymore.

I've been trying to come up with good ways of displaying the children's artwork. I have 3 boxes to go through now that school is out. Any good ideas?

Baptism

2011-06-09T11:53:00.000-07:00

Late 1980, wearing a significantly see-through white dress, I was baptized in a wooden make-shift font which simultaneously housed floating daddy-long-leg spiders. The font was located in the basement of a rented building in which my small lds branch met. I don't remember much besides the embarrassment felt from the wet see-through dress and that my world didn't suddenly shift into spiritual stardom. I find that I am still galaxies away from attaining such a status. But there have been quiet, sometimes earth-shaking moments-mostly unexpected, when there was a shift, and I would never be the same.

In early April, Norah was baptized. In the month preceding her baptism, we did our best to prepare her, going over and over the interview questions and helping her understand the basics of a testimony. That morning we went to the stake center which was busy with activity as 17 wards prepared for their youth baptisms. We chose a jumper from about 50 jumpers neatly pressed and hung for all the 8 year-olds. We shuffled into a small room to hold the service which was tender and sweet. I met Norah on the other side of the font standing in a pool of water which held the drippings of perhaps 20 girls that morning. As I helped her dress, her young voice came from behind a stall door: Mom, I don't feel different. I smiled to myself as I reassured her that that was exactly how I felt after my baptism. It's not usually fireworks or lightening bolts. It is gradual, it is work, and it is mostly still. But it is the greatest love you will ever feel and it is real.

I love you Norah.

Oh Boy...

2011-05-15T10:10:00.001-07:00

Abram is at my shoulder threatening to throw his shoes at my head.

Abram was sent to the head master's office at preschool twice as a result of throwing punches.

Abram terrorizes Rosemary incessantly.

On Easter, my father was sustained as a bishop at BYU, as a result, Abram became very familiar with the HFAC hallways while in time-out.

Abram cries. A lot.

Abram yells. A lot.

But...

Abram tells me I'm pretty. A lot.

Abram says he loves me. All the time.

Abram loves his little sister, occasionally.

And while watching a movie, I caught them holding hands.

And as my friend said: It's hard to be mad at him when he's so good looking.

True.

It's a good thing you came with those big brown eyes Abram.

Taxidermy and Such...

2011-04-05T15:01:00.000-07:00

This week is spring break for Lulu and not Norah. You would think that Challenger would try to take the public school's spring break schedule into consideration when they plan theirs, but they don't. So next week Norah will be on break which leads us to one of those Staycation things I've been hearing about. Not that we vacation all that frequently, but I do my best.

And as fun as it has been to teach Lulu how to clean toilets and as fun as it has been to turn on The Cars and watch the children jump couch to couch, we decided to head south.

As we approached BYU and Lulu noticed the "Y" hanging from the stadium, I heard her say:Jimmer. To which I replied mentally: What the...? Who teaches you this popular culture stuff? Not me. Lulu is also the one who taught me the words to "Womanizer" when I was unfamiliar with the song not too long ago.

I informed the children we were meeting grandpa (grandpa is the big man on campus) and visiting an extra exciting museum.

Upon entering the Bean museum, we barely escaped a stampede of field trippers trying to identify a wolverine. We made our way through the myriad of herbivores whose bodies are missing. The grizzly bear isn't bodiless if you know what I mean.

The uniqueness of Shasta the liger, was lost on Abram and Lulu, too bad she was the best part. They seemed to be more interested in the tiny two-headed snake displayed at the gift shop cash register.

Someone, who previously has been the light of my life, threw a temper tantrum in the museum, in the library!, and in the Marriott center parking lot.

This is her guilty look in grandpa's office.

And if it looks as though I am choking her here, I am.

Stay tuned for more of our 2 week staycation and see who survives.

In Defence of Insanity

2011-03-22T12:11:00.000-07:00

I spent last weekend in St. George. Every March, in order for Brad to maintain his Utah law/bar license he has to attend some classes, go golfing or something of the sort, which conveniently for the golf, takes place in St. George. Once in a blue moon we all take the trip with him and 2011 seemed to be a blue moon so there I was on a Friday afternoon cruising the red rocks of southern Utah with Rosemary while Brad took the three older children to a community aquatic center. I wasn't feeling in the mood to put on a swimsuit in public. I haven't quite come to terms with my aging body, it's on my to-do list but it's behind washing baseboards and dusting crown molding. Plus, I have serious issues with pools. I think it's because I grew up swimming in large bodies of water, you know, like the great lakes. Pools are just a touch too creepy for me, it feels as if I've embraced a "let's all get naked and cram together in a giant bathtub" attitude. I know you are thinking that I may be neurotic, but that is my only "thing". Pools and chicken. Have you ever prepared raw chicken while pregnant? Seriously.

So Rosemary and I pull into the parking lot of Target and I spy a Great Clips. I've never had a hair cut at Great Clips. I barely get hair cuts. But here's the thing: I live in an incredibly homogeneous microcosm. I'm not knocking my neighborhood, I really do love the women I live around. The problem is, and maybe someone else shares this problem, if something is trendy or popular I don't do it, or wear it, or say it. For instance, when "awesome" became a trendy word, I refused to use it. Now it's the foundation of my vocabulary but whatever. Remember overalls and how people would wear one strap down?! But that's not a good example because that truly was ridiculous. I know you are thinking: Martha had a pair of overalls? I did and I wish I still had them. I just refuse to wear the strap down.

Pegging your pants. I didn't do that. The neck cut out of a sweatshirt and hanging off of one shoulder? I totally did that but that was cool.

Lots of chunky jewelry, or lots of jewelry at all, I can't do it. Leggings with a skirt over them, no way.

So back to my point. My neighborhood. We all have long hair. Not only is it long, it has those soft contrived waves that are wrapped around the curling iron but not clipped in. Well mine, not so much, it's wavy all right, but minus the curling iron and add some serious frizz. Sacrament meeting is like a Stepford wives gathering. We could totally give the women of Colorado City a run for their money if you know what I mean.

So I see the Great Clips and I just can't take it anymore. I walk in and ask the lady to cut 4 inches off. She stares at me and asks: What will your husband say? I let out a Pfftt, which is french for: he won't even notice. She starts cutting. She calls the woman next to her over saying: look at her hair, she wants to cut 4 inches off, would you cut 4 inches off if you had her hair? I mutter something about them not understanding the pressure I am under. Rosemary sits in the next chair pushing button after button on my iphone.

Finally, it is done. I pay and walk out waiting until I find a mirror in Target to asses the damage. I find one and am confronted by what would be an almost perfectly cut frizzy triangle if it weren't for the two straggly strands which hang longer than the rest. I am reminded of Suzanna Hoffs in "Walk like an Egyptian" or better yet, Selma Bouvier, Marge Simpson's sister (I only know the name because of my brother in-law who is a Simpson die hard). She has some awesomely beautiful hair.

But it doesn't matter. At least I am free from the pack.

You added another neurosis to the list didn't you?

I'll probably grow it out.

(Totally self-conscience head tilt)

"Of" The Week

2010-10-13T13:09:00.001-07:00

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:

2010-10-04T19:17:00.000-07:00

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

2010-09-27T14:11:00.001-07:00

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

2010-09-13T14:56:00.000-07:00

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

2010-08-25T11:55:00.001-07:00

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...

2010-08-02T14:14:00.000-07:00

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

2010-07-27T19:52:00.001-07:00

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

2010-07-15T11:01:00.001-07:00

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

2010-07-07T08:50:00.001-07:00

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.

Wishing I were a thousand miles away...

2010-07-02T07:58:00.000-07:00

My dad flew off to Traverse City, Michigan yesterday morning. My grandfather is slipping in and out of consciousness and on his last. He is 98, and has been suffering from dementia for a few years now so it is to be expected. But my heart aches to have been on that plane with my father and to have the chance to hug my grandfather and tell him I love him. I would sit on his deck and watch those deep waters while drinking in the pine and earth and feel gratitude for the beautiful youth he provided me and the blessings he made possible.

And I would feel still and loved.

Lazy Summer

2010-06-29T15:17:00.001-07:00

...the blog that is, not so much me. I always have the thought and intention to post at least a photo from most of our days, and then...well, there are just more interesting things to do than blog.

We really have been enjoying a beautiful, relatively happy summer. Oh sure, Abram is potty training and often misses the toilet (both #1 and #2.) And Rosemary seems to have a sixth sense for ink, and uses it to decorate everything she sees fit, including her face, over and over and over again. And, it has now been steadily in the 90's for a while and when it hits 90 I cannot be responsible for my disposition or my behavior, but the mornings are fine and my yard is in full bloom. As my husband said, it looks like fireworks exploded in front of our house.

It is not an easy task to garden at Traverse Mountain, we live on the side of a windy mountain (don't get me started.) I put in a fair amount of hard work last year and this spring and it feels wonderful to be able to enjoy some of the fruits of that labor.

Don't ask me about the back yard. All in good time, all in good time.

Some interesting developments so far this summer:

Norah and Lulu have sort of developed somewhat of a friendship. Yay.

I color coded my books and my shelves finally look cohesive. Yay.

There aren't nearly as many golf carts driving around the Thanksgiving Point gardens this summer as there were this spring, which means I don't have to get all confrontational like I thought I was going to have to be. Yay.

I'm growing my hideous bangs out. Not so much of a Yay.

I know my dad likes to be kept apprised of what is going on with my hair.

Pretty In Pink

2010-06-14T11:29:00.000-07:00

While exiting the chapel after I had been called as the YW president, I ran into a girl named Amber who I had briefly met at a child birthday party. At the time I was feeling incredibly overwhelmed with responsibility, but I tried to not let on as I chatted with her for a few seconds. As I climbed into my car, holding a paper with names that were highlighted as "suggestions" for a presidency, I felt a soft sweep of calm whisper to me "You need Amber". So I got Amber.

Amber was awesome. She was not only someone who could counsel me, she was an incredible friend. She listened, she covered for me as I tried to come up to speed with the YW program. She was empathetic when I was overwhelmed and she was someone I could trust.

A few months ago, Amber sent me a text that she was pregnant with twins. My heart sank. I was of course, happy for her, but I knew too well what that would mean: no more Amber as my right hand. And, she was shortly released after.

Amber is now almost 37 weeks and I threw her a shower in my home last week, I miss her.

She is having two girls and my house is still a vision in pink.

Antelope Island

2010-06-04T10:37:00.000-07:00

On Memorial Day we took a little trip to Antelope Island and met up with my sister, brother and their families. I was pretty excited since the "island" has escaped my travels until that morning. Upon approaching the gate to enter the island, we encountered a flashing neon sign reading "the bugs are bad, biting nats". OK.

To make a long story short, we hiked, saw some buffalo, a coyote, antelope, ate some food, and Rosemary came off the island looking like she had broken out with the pox.

Marlboros and The Old Testament

2010-06-01T11:37:00.001-07:00

Intensly studying the gospel art book during sacrament meeting last Sunday, Lulu turns to me and whispers: Mom these two guys are at war.

Glancing down at the sketch of David and Goliath, I say: That's right.

Lulu says: Do you know who wins?

I say: Who?

Lulu: The little guy.

After some careful studying of how little the "little guy" is she asks: Why does the little guy win?

Me: Because he does what Heavenly Father askes him to do, he is obedient.

Lulu: The big guy is naughty?

Me: He doesn't follow Heavenly Father's commandments.

Lulu: He smokes huh?

If Goliath only knew...

Tuesday Night Movie Star

2010-05-27T11:54:00.000-07:00

Two days ago I hosted Movie Star Karaoke for the YM and YW at my house. We included the ward we split from last October because our youth group tends to be lean these days.

I decided to avoid any and all skank and try to class it up a bit (I try.)

My secretary, Katie, is a hairdresser and one of her secretarial duties is to fix my hair for such activities. She spent some time ratting, but discovered I have heavy hair, yeah, shocker. So, a ball was placed under the hair in order to achieve the effect. And I walked around with this hair all day, cleaning, driving, digging in the dirt, waving at the passing cars. I'm the neighborhood crazy.

I was Audrey Hepburn in My Fair Lady. I don't think anybody got it. Maybe no one has seen My Fair Lady. Have you?

Oh well, at least I still (kind of) fit into my wedding dress.

Good times. Tuesdays leave me exhausted and exhilarated all at once.

Ogden Marathon

2010-05-17T11:25:00.000-07:00

The week leading up to the marathon was hard. My neck and shoulders hurt, I felt as if a cold/virus was stalking me, and it was difficult to sleep. In fact, I told a few people that if this is how I could expect to feel right before every marathon, I wouldn't be running any more, I do have a life to live outside of running.

(me in the car, feeling pretty stressed a few days before the marathon)

The truth is, I was sitting on the couch 6 months ago. I was busy and did yoga occasionally, but I really, seriously hadn't really "run" in about 18 years. And the truth really is that as much as I wanted to train hard, my lack of a baseline, and the responsibilities I have on my plate right now wouldn't quite allow it. I kept getting injuries and just felt exhausted. So my training was limited to 2-3 times running every week. Which is fine, but it made me nervous.

Friday, I drove to Ogden in the afternoon with one of my partners, Suzanne. We, of course, got caught in traffic. We finally reached the Expo in downtown Ogden at about 6, and met up with Carina (my other partner) and another friend.

We picked up our packets, walked a few blocks, met my sister, and ate dinner.

We then planned to meet in the Lobby of the Ben Lomond at 4:40 the next morning (the buses picked the runners up at 4:45 outside of the hotel.) I checked into Ben Lomond all by my lonesome (first time) and went to bed. No ghost stories to report, although it is a very old hotel.

I didn't need to be woken by an alarm because sounds of showers woke me at 3:45. So, up I was. I met the girls downstairs, hopped on the bus, and took the long ride up to the start.

By the time we reached the start, it was light, there was frost on the grass and a few thousand people excitedly standing around in a beautiful field billowing with frozen breath. Before I knew it, it was time to strip down to tank tops and skirts and freeze in a huddle at the starting line. With little warning, the gun went off, with barely any detectable movement. As the pack started to thin, I found my pace and settled in. It was chilly, but it was so lovely up on that mountain.

The first 20 miles were pretty effortless and fun. Men flirted with me (no joke), the weather was perfect, and I felt good. I stopped for 3-5 seconds at each aid station, it was my first marathon after all. I felt like a well oiled machine climbing the big hill at mile 14, and smiled for the spectators and photographers that I passed. Once we started to head into the city, it got hot, and I became sick. GU sucks. I had to stop at the bathroom at mile 21, and when I started running again my IT band locked up, but it was OK. Around mile 23, my brother Tim jumped in and pulled me along for the last 3.2 miles. My family was waiting for me right around there and those last 3 miles were the longest of my life but I finished in 3:43! My first marathon after only 6 months of training and I qualified for Boston. Yea, for me!

I'm pretty happy. I'm so grateful for my training partners, they listened to a lot of complaining and saw me through. Life isn't bad when you have the support of great friends, a good husband, and children who think you've won.

Count Down

2010-05-11T12:11:00.000-07:00

The Ogden marathon is on Saturday. And if it wasn't enough that I'm already freaked out by all of the "professional"advice that says no, you cannot train for a marathon and not get hurt without some sort of baseline(I truly was sitting on the couch 6 months ago), my secretary just informed me that the hotel I am staying at the night before the marathon (The Ben Lomond) is haunted.

Now, I'm really not afraid of much. I love snakes, I can catch them and cradle them in my arms. I am Friends with spiders, we happily cohabitate. I've been known to rescue mice from a cat's paw (I am aware that I am a super freak.) And I am fairly assertive and unfortunately, sometimes confrontational.

But I am very afraid of cohabitating with dead people.

Of course I googled the hotel and found out, yes, it is haunted. In fact, ghost hunters regularly check into one of the "haunted" rooms. Great. Just what I need the night before 26.2 miles. Hope they have a mini bar. Just kidding, maybe.

Anyway, it should be a party. Actually I'm excited along with being nervous. I have run 23 miles, and although it was a long way to run, I felt pretty good and was able to finish in under 3 and a half hours. And the course of the marathon is quite pretty.

While training, I usually don't listen to music. It's nice to talk to the girls and enjoy a clear head. But I will probably need some music to get me up the hill at mile 14 and through the finish. So, I've been searching online play lists and have had a startling revelation: I am old. And boring.

So I made an Ogden play list from scratch. Here is a portion in case you too are old, boring and afraid of ghosts.

1. Bold as Love (Jimi Hendrix) The guitar is awesome. Plus, some kid skated to it in the Olympics and it makes me feel like a winner:)

2. Celebrity Skin (Hole) The chorus kicks my butt.

3. December, 1963 (The Four Seasons) Yeah, this is a total grandma song, but it makes me happy. I may need some happy at mile 24.

4. Extreme Ways (Moby) I like to pretend I'm being chased by the CIA, it's crazy fun.

5. Feelin' Satisfied (Boston) The lyrics at the beginning are so so lame, but something about the Chorus makes we want to dance up the hill at mile 14.

6. Funk #49 (Joe Walsh) Just cool.

7. It's My Life (Bon Jovi) I used to hate this song, then my dad made it grow on me.

8. Love Hangover (Diana Ross) Don't be fooled by the beginning, it will make you move.

9. Paradise City (G n'R) I did run during the 80's, it's embedded.

10. Sabotage (beastie boys) It does have a bad word, it isn't bad if no one hears that I hear it right?

11. September (Earth, Wind & Fire) Again, happy and free.

12. Slow Ride (Fool in the City) I don't know, I just like it.

13. Your Love (The Outfield) Super lame message, but it reminds me of running cross-country and track and those were good days.

14. Don't Stop Believin' (Journey) Let's face it, I am that small town girl and I intend to be pressing repeat on this a few times during that last mile. Let's hope it's only once, if you know what I mean.

In other news, Lulu had a school program today and was awesome. She has made so much progress this year. I am so grateful for the resources we have and all the people who help teach her.

For My Mother

2010-05-07T14:06:00.000-07:00

Last summer we had a party for my mother. I emailed my siblings and my father and asked each to send me a memory or a compilation of short memories which I published into a book for my mother which we gave her at the party.

The following is what I wrote for the book. I love her and hope she has a lovey mother's day.

Vignettes for my mother:

My life as a child, I remember in only still rosy moments- like photographs with gold dust. You were young and thin, with a long black braid or a low twisted bun that would be modestly wound around a simple band of leather pierced by wood. I watched you in wonder; not quite understanding you. There is the memory of you in your own mother’s driveway. You sat halfway in and halfway out of our car prying metal grommets from a tooled leather hair piece. The grommets fell lightly onto the pebbled driveway and I collected as many as I could. Those metal grommets were shiny and fancy to my young eye; yet to you they were silly and frivolous.
I sat mesmerized on the vanity on Main Street. It was a rare occasion; your hair was down and free. Someone had lent you a purple dress with a silver sash. I thought you looked the part of a princess and wondered why you didn’t always embrace this type of “pretty”. And then you were off to what I could only imagine as magical: the golden green ball.
Snow reached my mid-section as I stepped off the deck and drowned in a sea of white. A few feet ahead-barely discernable atop the snow, lay an unblemished lifeless owl. I cradled it in my arms, lamenting it’s death. You taught me to love even the least of these. The owl was beautiful to me; even in death. You wrapped him up and allowed me to take him to school. You allowed for the love of all life.
Stormy grey and golden eyed; the tom cat followed me down the alley. I named him Hearty. Unlike most mothers, you welcomed many a stray into your home. Matted fur, mangy paws--you were not easily dissuaded from loving and sharing. Yours was a half-way house for knocked-up felines. Illegitimate kittens found life under beds and in closets. My innate desire to love and to learn was fostered by your willingness to sacrifice and to share. You celebrate the simple miracles of life. I found kindred spirits in those kitties, and I thank you for allowing me that.
You, have never fallen prey to vanity. I, for some reason, loved the pretty from a very young age. Even in your aversion to make-up, hair-dos, and fashion, you allowed me to be myself and understood my need to “feel” pretty. I sat with you on the couch; you were patiently looking through a fashion magazine with me. I was 15, unsure of myself and regularly insecure. I pointed out a model who I found beautiful. You said that I reminded you of her because we had the same full lips. I’ve remember those words, even in times of feeling unattractive and worthless. It was important to you to make me feel pretty because you understood it was important to me.
I held my new firstborn in a dingy doctor’s visiting room. You looked on, silently encouraging me as I visited with the pediatrician about Norah’s head and while she received her pku pokes. Tired and still building up a lost blood supply, I gingerly redressed Norah. You quickly hugged me and told me that I was a good mother. New to my calling I needed that encouragement from the woman I consider to be the ultimate mother.
You are in almost every respect what a mother should be: patient, long suffering, charitable, kind, encouraging, selfless, resourceful, hard working, gentle, disciplined, loyal, and loving. When friends desert, disappointments come, pain afflicts, and all else fails; my mother loves me. I know this. I dread the day when I am without you; besides the Savior you are the rock in my life. You are true.
I once read in a fiction novel of a woman testify to a grand jury that when asked where she came from, she said she came from her mother. The older I become the more I realize the truth in this; you are where I come from. You are my pathway back always, to home, warmth and happiness. I could not ask for better than you, even if you don’t like red lipstick.
I love you and pray I will be able to follow in your footsteps.

Reconciliation

2010-05-04T11:18:00.000-07:00

After 8 long months of Challenger school line waiting, I have perfected my courtesy in spite of misery smile which is brought on by the line waiting inspired brain hemorrhage that ensues in the back of my car. Every. Single. Day.

And, my mind and nerves have evidently been deadened enough to be reconciled to the fact that said brain hemorrhage will continue beyond the short drive home and through lunch.

It is easier to reconcile my life with these crimes when I know that justice is just around the corner. And there is no justice like nap time.

Seesaw

2010-04-29T08:52:00.000-07:00

When I was a child, the hundred-year-old grade school was just down the alley way and a small jog through the towering pines which separated my block from the library and then a jump across the street. I would often escape to the playground of the school. The swings swung high and dangerous, the merry-go-round was fast and left me dizzy, but my favorite thing to do was to try to balance on the giant 5-coats-of-chipped-paint teeter toters. They were heavy and had three steel grooves underneath so as to accommodate any unbalanced weight. My right thigh bares a scare from being caught under a heavy seesaw groove.

I would often place the seesaw on the middle groove, step on top and then try to balance the wood plank just so...and just when it seemed that the world had stopped and I had achieved the impossible...it would tip and I would overcompensate and it would tip again and again.

This is my life right now; overcompensating, tipping, trying to balance, but not quite able to keep it "just right". I keep waiting for the calm to come and the grooves to click into place so that everything is just so. But maybe that isn't the way it is supposed to be right now?

I like comfortable, but maybe slightly uncomfortable doesn't necessarily mean without a sense of peace and happiness. I enjoy being the YW president, but the feeling that I am really "on top of it" is very fleeting and usually slips through my fingers about an hour after church ends.

I very much enjoy being my children's mother, but I very rarely feel at the top of my game. There is constantly something new thrown into the mix, and at any given moment I feel that I could turn into the crazy mom that I try to keep caged in my neurosis.

I try to remind myself that this is a consecrated time, I may not see or feel the blessings always that accompany sacrificing comfort. My unspoken deal with God is that this time as president of teenage girls while I have very difficult young children is really just helping me prepare to be able to guide my very difficult young girls when they hit puberty. Because it's all about me really:)

But the truth is (I know) that life isn't about comfort, as soon as I've found comfort and have mastered something in particular, the rug is pulled out and I find myself trying to catch my balance again. And that, I'm told, is what I asked for, right?

Speaking of rugs, I have been on the lookout for the perfect rug for our giant middle area in our great room for 2 years now. I wanted something perfect: big, not too vintagy, not too ugly, and soft.

I found this rug from Anthropologie, but it wasn't quite big enough and $3000 is slightly out of the budget.

Then I found this one on overstock. The tubes are quite large pieces of felted wool, it's so soft, big, colorful, and perfect for our space. And the kids love it, it actually absorbs some of the noise of that room. So we bought two.

Come on over, my house smells like a giant sweater.

Guess what I did today!

2010-04-13T09:50:00.000-07:00

I actually fixed my hair! And in a somewhat-current style. I know! Yea me!

I had to document it because it may not happen for another 5 years.

Guess what else I did...I ran twenty miles of the Ogden course with my running partners on Friday evening. My awesome sister Sarah met us downtown in Odgen, drove us up past the start of the race and dropped us off in the middle of nowhere on the top of a mountain and then we ran 20 miles, in 2 hours 45 minutes mind you--which ends up being about 8:20 miles. I know! I did give myself an it band injury but I think it's on the mend (hopefully). I am starting to gain a bit of confidence about actually running the race.

I also have to mention that my friend Jenny met us afterward and drove 3 stinky, sweaty, excitment deprived moms to their car on her Friday night. Thank you Jenny.

And, I have to mention that my dad watched my kids. Thank you dad.

It takes a village to help a mom train for a marathon.

Our Supposed Spring Break

2010-03-31T13:33:00.000-07:00

Challenger's spring break is this week (don't ask me why they can't possibly follow the public school schedule, maybe because they don't want to be helpful?), and it is going really, really well so far. That is sarcasm in case you missed it.

It's snowing and I think the flowers I just planted two days ago are mad at me, I don't blame them.

The dog pooped all over the basement floor this morning. She is the light of my life.

There is blue crayon everywhere: the office chair, the office door, the tile, the toys, the wood floor, shoes...

Someone sold Norah some crack, or at least it seems that way. Watch out for her.

And only 3 young women showed up last night for the activity. Oh personal progress, how can I make thee fun and exciting?

It's not all bad, I did get a new washer and dryer and now it doesn't sound like a tsunami is crashing through our kitchen ceiling everytime I do a wash.

These are for you Jenny (and all the other people who have asked why I haven't posted recipes in a while):

Italian Wedding Soup, I really enjoy this soup and most of my children will actually eat it. Not lulu, lulu doesn't eat anything--except bananas.

Hunter's minestrone

Swordfish with citrus pesto, this was really tasty as well, swordfish wasn't available so I just used halibut.

Seared tuna tostada, the roasted bell pepper vinaigrette was probably one of the best things I've ever tasted.

The ultiate fish tacos. My husband and I have eaten many a fish taco. I've tried all the recipes, and this one isn't new to me, but I thought you might like to give it a go because it is supreme. I mean people want to know how to get invited to my house supreme. That is not bragging because it is not my recipe, and sharing it does not mean I do not want to invite you to my house. I do, but I have blue crayon and dog poop to clean up.

Current Events

2010-03-29T11:33:00.001-07:00

My brother did in fact, get married last week. And I did host a wedding dinner at my home.

I believe the dinner went well, I know the sealing was sweet and beautiful, and I am relieved that it is all behind me.

I really do enjoy my family. I feel safe, secure, and understood when I am with them.

And I really do sincerely have to say that my brothers chose women who were better than them. I am lucky to have two good, wonderful sister in-laws who make my brothers better.

Sitting through the sealing I appreciated and loved my husband a little more, the covenants and promises are powerful.

In running news: Last week while on a mid-week run we had to call 911 because some hooded fiend stalked us in his car, I'm not quite sure what he thought he was going to do, but it still bugged.

And, we did our 18 mile run on Saturday which included the incline from the Purple Turtle in Pleasant Grove to the Cedar Hills Golf Club in an 8:40 average while easily carrying on a conversation.

Not too bad of a week I'd say.

Catching Up

2010-03-19T10:35:00.000-07:00

The last month has been a little stressful. I received a new counselor and secretary last Sunday. Leading up to last week, I felt quite a bit of anxiety while choosing names and feeling a little overwhelmed with my duties. YW is busy. I've been sick for about 8 days now (I believe my sickness was augmented Saturday when I ran our 15 mile run feeling lousy, ended up running straight up the side of the mountain lost, and had to be rescued by a companion's husband, all while running 9 minute miles)my husband is out of town, and my brother's wedding dinner is at my house next week. Do you feel sorry for me yet?

Don't feel too bad for me, things are often stress filled, but there is much good as well.

Norah successfully turned seven. She is a whirling dervish out of whirl, but she is also sweet and sensitive.

We had a semi-successful bridal shower for my soon to be sister-in-law. My brother likes to snap a bunch of pictures all at once so that you are unprepared and unposed and so that you think he is sort of a freak.

I've had a few lunches for women at my home: my old presidency needed to be thanked, and one of my running companions had a mastectomy so we had a running lunch right before her surgery.

Speaking of running, things are going fairly well. We usually do some pace work on a seven mile course we have over on the hills by Ridgeline in Highland. Last week I ran it at an 8 minute mile average and really wasn't that tired. Even though it's only been 4.5 months since I began training, it is hard not to have expectations and to not put pressure on myself because I used to race in a former life. I don't know how to get around that. I am grateful though that I run with girls that do the same things to themselves because they are not exactly recreational runners either.

So life is continuing, although sometimes the pace is a little trying.

March 16th

2010-03-16T11:59:00.000-07:00

You changed my life eternally 7 years ago. You were my perfect first-born. You are a beautiful whirlwind and I will forever try to be living up to your purity and potential.

I love you Norah, happy birthday.

Rosemary's First Masterpiece

2010-03-09T11:46:00.001-08:00

Although, she may need to reconsider her medium.

Why I am Smart and Cool:

2010-03-02T08:21:00.000-08:00

I am the oldest of eight children(that alone makes me cool, no?). The youngest two came almost 13 years after my birth and are identical twins: Tim and Peter. I rocked them to sleep, changed their diapers, fed them bottles, dressed them, carried them on my hip, pushed them around in a double stroller and was even mistaken for their mother in an elevator at a university hospital (um, no thank you).

Well, Tim was just accepted by Oxford for graduate school and Peter was accepted by University College London (in case you are wondering what UCL is,UCL was ranked fourth in the world in this year's Times Higher Education-QS rankings. No fewer than 21 Nobel prizewinners have come from the UCL community. And I totally copied and pasted that part). And the reason this makes me smart and cool is because I, no doubt, taught them everything they know.

In all seriousness, I am so proud of my brothers and love them. I am just slightly jealous of their cosmopolitan ways, but I am grateful that I now have a cool card to drop whenever I need it.

Aberham Lincoln

2010-02-18T13:41:00.000-08:00

While eating lunch after Lulu's school: Mom, we learned about Aberham Lincoln today (she calls Abram Aber as well).

Me: Tell me about Abraham Lincoln.

Lulu: OK, but this is scary mom (she pauses for effect), he got shocked.

Me: He was shot?

Lulu: He got (eyes widen) shocked!

Me: Oh. Who shocked him?

Lulu: I don't know, who?

Me: John Wilkes Booth.

Lulu: (looks off into space contemplating murder by electrocution)

Lulu: This next part is dirty mom.

Me: OK.

Lulu: His floor was (pauses for drama) made of dirt! And he peed outside!

Oh, the breathtaking results of Challenger.

Week Whatever

2010-02-17T09:33:00.000-08:00

My days are essentially spent: lifting, chasing, racing, serving, and amusing. I like who I am from 5:30 a.m. until around 5 p.m. It is around this time that I start to loose my grip. I'm always pushing the restart button during my nightly prayers asking for a little more something to get me through.

I've always felt that the Mormon culture's approach to the word of wisdom is a tad bit ironic (this is a generalization, I know there are members who take it very seriously), in fact, at every temple recommend interview when asked if I live the word of wisdom I always shrug my shoulders in a "pretty much" fashion because I know that I really don't live the code of health that was intended.

I mean, we do eat pretty healthy in comparison with the rest of the United States. Yeah, I know, that's not hard to do.

We pretty much cut out red meat years ago, we don't drink soda or caffeine, and we don't eat that much sugar, but the sugar is really what separates the boys from the men right (I know there is nothing in the word of wisdom about sugar but it is a code of health, and by eating more than a tiny bit of refined sugar my health is compromised).

So in my praying (and marathon training) I've started to feel the urgency of really committing to live a word of wisdom diet. I've been trying to ignore the promptings but...I do want more. Seriously, I don't want to.

I started Monday. I ate whole wheat toast with peanut butter, a breakfast salad with spinach, apples, oranges and vinaigrette, and orange juice (I do need to keep calories, just not the empty ones)for breakfast. I snacked on raw almonds and dried apricots. I had a salad for lunch and Mezedakia for dinner and Tuesday was similar.

I did have more energy for my long run this morning, but I am hating not having some sort of fix now and then. I hear it gets better, right? Right?

Mezedakia:

When Brad and I were first married we lived downtown on B street, than in Hollady. We frequently ate at a dive called The Other Place. They have a delicious Mezedakia platter. Mine is better:)

Cut an English cucumber into thin pieces, cut tomatoes into fourths or eighths, crumble feta into chunks, grill a pork tenderloin and cut into disks (you can use whatever meat you prefer), place kalamata olives in the middle, drizzle the whole thing with olive oil, champagne vinegar, balsamic vinegar, oregano, salt, and pepper. Place lemon slices on the side and if you are not too concerned about a few simple carbs toast pita bread drizzled with olive oil and salt in the oven and cut into fourths. Pretty delicious and really not that bad for you.

Maybe someday soon I'll be able to hold Rosemary all day long and not be weary, and listen to whining all day long and not faint.

Wearing a Hat is Hard

2010-02-08T11:38:00.000-08:00

Running is good again. I ran hills on Thursday and felt great. We ran 10 miles in the fog and rain on Saturday and it felt pretty good. Lone Peak's track is still covered with snow (we discovered that this morning as we searched in the dark for anything dark amid the white), so we tried to do some speed work on the side of the dark bumpy road from Lone Peak to the Timpanogous Temple. We ended up running 4 miles in 31 minutes. Things are picking up. And I get my stitches out tomorrow. Yea for me!

I've only cooked two noteworthy ricipes: Emeril's chicken stir fry was fast, easy, and a good way to add broccoli and red peppers to my meal.
But this warm lentil salad with roasted beets and goat cheese was delicious. It is the second time I've made it and I can't get enough. Yum.

Week Two

2010-02-02T12:52:00.001-08:00

Abram is a glass half-empty kind of guy right now (please let it only be temporary). I reason that it must be difficult being jammed quite closely between three girls, two being incredibly over-the-top dominant and one being a needy baby. Any task that needs doing on his part is just too difficult because of "the beetle biting his leg" or the "roley poley" caught in his ear, or how going potty makes his eye hurt, and how putting his shoes on makes his tummy hurt. Unfortunately, his mother nagging him about completely these tasks makes him hit, kick and push his younger sister, which in turn makes her cling to me.

It's kind of like I have a goiter slung around my neck, except this goiter laments in operatic baby babble, the terrors of being Abram's younger sister.

I don't lament my goiter too much.

So, I ran 10 miles Saturday, did a tempo run Monday, and ran 3 miles this morning. And I felt pretty miserable during all of them. I'm not sure what is up. Maybe it was the race combined with not running for a week because of the surgery and maybe I am running different because I am favoring the leg. I can't figure it out, but I'll give it some time.

I had an allergic reaction to the bandages that I've been covering my stitches with, and now my leg is swollen with bleeding hives and it is nasty, and I can't wear bandages. I'll spare you the photo.

What I've eaten:

Thursday I made Bobby Flay's Chinese chicken salad and it was pretty good. I've probably made a dozen different Chinese chicken salad recipes and I still think I like Tyler Florence's the best.

I made chicken Kiev Friday. It's an America's test kitchen recipe, so no link, but it's filled with butter so you may not want it.

I was snapping a photo of my bowl full of butter and herbs and this just happened to be taking place in the background. Sweet Lu.

One of Brad's clients owns an extra large smoker and enters his smoked meats in contests around the states. He often emails Brad and asks if he would like something smoked for him. Last week he said he had room for a smoked pork butt. We bit and now I'm making all kind of really healthy pork meals. Right now I'm reading Born to Run and the author covers the diets of some of the best runners in the world. Christopher Mcdougall seems to have left out the part about how pork butt makes you run really fast...

Week One

2010-01-28T12:34:00.000-08:00

When I said that this week began marathon training which included running 5 times a week and weight lifting, I lied. I knew when I wrote those words that I would be seeing the dermatologist the next morning for a "little" procedure. Upon entering the doctor's office, it became clear that he had actually just stated that I was to have a "procedure" and that I had subconsciously added "little".

So, I have had the skin cancer that isn't a big deal before, but this time it is just shy of melanoma (whatever that means) and had to be cut quite aggressively from my leg.

Pretty eh? Below these top stitches there are a ridiculous amount of small stitches because he cut a pretty good chunk out of my lower leg just to the side of my shin and right above my ankle, in fact, I grew slightly light headed as I watched him stitch for 30 minutes. The skin had to be pulled pretty tight and honestly, now I have an indented leg.

Moral of the story: wear sunscreen.

I think I should be able to wrap my leg tightly and do a long run on Saturday. We'll see.

I promised my sister that I would post (daily?, we'll see) my program and the recipes that I eat. My family generally eats healthy, but we have room for improvement. During my training I'd like to go a little greener as far as adding more fruits and vegetables to my diet. I will not be a 100%er, so don't judge me, but I would like to see where it takes me. Runner nirvana? I'm thin, and I look fine, but I would love a stronger, healthier body. I would love to feel great most of the time and have amazing energy.

This is the problem: I am a food snob, I can't help it. I love to cook, and I do think one can cook really tasty meals that are really healthy, but I just have to try harder.

My other problem is that I really love fat. I love butter, I love cream. So my plan is this: 5 really healthy meals, 1 sort of healthy meal coated in butter (Sunday's are up to someone else so it's really not my call, right?).

I will post what I am eating here (Cathy and Dad) and try to be somewhat accountable,and if by May I look like Linda Hamilton in Terminator 2...there you go. But if I look less like Linda and more like Julia Child, it's not because I am eating her butter smothered roasted chicken.

Tuesday I made Ribollita. All the ingredients, with the exception of the pancetta, are healthy and the soup was delicious, of course Lu won't eat it but she is something entirely different.

Wednesday one of my running partners brought me Rigatoni.

And here we are on Thursday, I'll let you know.

I think sweet Rosemary may have contracted rabies from Abram because her temper tantrum at the grocery store this morning was relentless. The checkout lady crossed herself when she saw Rosemary foaming at the mouth.

St. George Half Marathon (Painters Half) Report

2010-01-25T13:22:00.000-08:00

So, I just need to preface this with a few prefaces:

First, when I was preparing for this half, I scoured the Internet looking for personal accounts of this particular race on blogs and such. I only found one by the man who placed 2nd last year, and his account wasn't all that helpful for someone who was running their very first half-marathon. So I hope my account is somewhat helpful for a first time half-marathoner, or at least someone who isn't trying to win it.

Second, most half and full marathons in Utah are known for being on the slightly fast side because they lose a fair amount of elevation. Many of them start up a canyon and come down into the city or town. The St. George half-marathon isn't one of these, it's a loop course, and no one told me that when I registered for it. A couple of weeks after registering for it, I briefly met a girl who found out I was running it and gave me a half grimace as she said: That's a hilly one. And I've been in a panic ever since.

So that is how I came to the race: slightly panicked and slightly sick.

The weather in St. George was rainy and a little chilly the night before. I waited in line for my chip and number, turned to the pretty redhead next to me, and asked her if she had run it before. She said it was her third time. I asked if the hills were bad and she replied that they weren't that bad, but that it wasn't a "fast" race. OK, I thought, I can live with that, because I have nothing to compare it to. That night, I barely slept, I don't know what was wrong, but I grew more anxious as the hours ticked by, and again I was panicking. Rosemary threw up, Lulu woke in the middle of the night needing medicine for her sniffles, and in the early morning Norah had a bloody nose. During the theatrics, the rain poured down.

By dusk, my head was heavy but the storm had broken. The sky was pretty dark and heavy with clouds, so I made a big mistake--I totally overdressed and pinned my number to my jacket that was over a long sleeved shirt. Even if it is only in the
30's DO NOT wear a long sleeved shirt, wear a short sleeved shirt and pin the number to that so that you can ditch the jacket when you heat up.

Anyway, there were a couple thousand people running that morning, in fact, my husband and I recognized quite a few people--he actually went to high-school with the pretty red head.

The race started at the Dixie center and we all had to squeeze our way across the mats that did the chip timing and it took a few minutes to get to my desired pace because the crowd was heavy. We made our way up into a neighborhood for the first few miles and then dropped down to a trail along the Virgin River. There were a few good uphills in the first 7 miles, but they weren't that long. The inclines were mostly gradual. I felt pretty good for the first 8 miles, although I was growing hotter and hotter by the second and wished I could strip to my sports bra. It was around this time that the leader streaked by me because the course loops back around, he probably only had a mile and a half left or so. For a second I considered jumping the track and joining him--my chip would never know. But on I went back into some neighborhood streets, and that's where it got hard. There was a gradual uphill that seemed to go on forever. My inexperience, lack of sleep, and sickness caught up with me at mile 9 and I thought: those girls (running partners) of mine can kiss off, there is no way I am running a marathon with them in May! But then I had a good mile from 9-10 and it was back on. At this point (I think) you drop back down to the river trail. I was really tired, and then my shuffle loaded Where the streets have no name, I actually looked up and saw the red cliffs and the river, and thought briefly: this is nice.

Mile 11-12 was horrible. The last 2.5 miles are a gradual incline and my sorry thighs could feel it. The last mile we passed over a bridge and turned back to the Dixie center and ran over a little steep hill and crossed the line about a hundred yards later. I finished in 1:54 and was OK with that.

Me, right after the race.

See, don't I look thrilled.

Placing some distance between myself and the race, I started to feel better about it (maybe I just forgot mile 11-12). A friend called me from the Dixie center and screamed: Martha you did awesome! I was thinking: I did? She said they had just posted the results and that I had placed 160th out of 800 women, so I guess that isn't so bad for only 3 months of running 3 times a week.

But this week starts five times a week with speed training and loads of fun with food, weights, and core training. But really, the girls I run with are so wise, helpful and fun, it doesn't seem that bad.

And really, the race was kind of nice--in a crazy sort of way.

And see, by the next day, I had forgotten all about mile 11-12.

Ambitious

2010-01-21T09:07:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I woke with a tightening in my throat, a soreness in my sinuses, and an aching body. Wondering why God hates me, I ran downstairs to start a torturous regimen of self-medication with every plant, animal, and mineral hypothesised to fight a cold. I swallowed whole garlic cloves, olive leaf, copious amounts of zinc and vitamin c, and something that looks like dirt. I am smelling sweet today (sorry to those I have to come in contact with)!

You see, that half-marathon in St. George is Saturday...and I felt so ready and strong until yesterday. I had a plan and a few goals, now I have weak muscles and a throbbing head.

And, the weather is supposed to be icky in St. George, this wouldn't have mattered a few days ago--but now, up those hills, in the rain, in the cold, with a cold (I do not like green eggs and ham)?

So this is my revised ambition for Saturday: I want to finish without peeing my pants. This may be too lofty a goal considering that after 4 kids in five years, I sometimes pee my pants when I sneeze, sometimes, just a little. Fast running may induce the same effect as sneezing, but then again, there may be no fast running considering the state of my muscles, but then again, I am downing the liquids like there is no tomorrow. Maybe the rain will be a good thing.

I will let you know how it goes.

Better

2010-01-08T13:35:00.000-08:00

girls camp 2009

I'm just emerging from six and a half years of functioning fatigue. I felt that if I took too much time to pause or if I peeked out of my microcosm too long, I would misstep, fall and that it would be too difficult to put my nose back to the grindstone of the day in and day out of birthing and breastfeeding.

Not that I begrudged my children of this time (mostly), I would regret a lack of sacrifice.

And not that I am anywhere near being out of the woods, my oldest is 6 and my baby is frankly still a baby. But this is the longest I have ever (since first finding myself pregnant) not been pregnant. And although I have considerably more on my plate than I did 6, 4, or 2 years ago, I am emerging wiser, stronger, more confidant, and with more fortitude. I know that I am a daughter of God, and I really do know that He desires for and can help me become great. I don't know that I ever really felt that as strongly as I do now.

As I tried to help the young women see the potential of their future the other evening, I found myself wondering: What is my potential this year? How good can I become?

For so long it's been: Just help me survive this without irreparably damaging anyone please.

But now I feel a gentle yet burning urgency to consecrate myself to who I could and can be.

I really only have three true priorities: spirituality, my relationships (mostly with my children), and my physical well being.

I want to become more like Jesus Christ this year. I need to know Him better, listen to Him more, and follow Him even when it's hard (like not have a bad attitude about 7am ward council, seriously why didn't the time change along with the ward time change?).

I will learn how to be more the mom my children need and spend less time trying to get my children to be who I "need" them to be.

The mother I wanted to be and thought I should be isn't the mother my oldest two need. Their needs weren't part of my paradigm.

Brad and I have been watching This Emotional Life on PBS. The very first installment brought a sort of epiphany for me. An adoptive father was talking about the difficulties of raising his son who had an attachment disorder. He stated that he hadn't wanted to be the dad that he is having to learn how to be. And then he added: but maybe that is what being a dad means.

I was touched by that sentiment. Maybe being a mom means becoming someone different in order to meet the needs of my children. It will be hard and it doesn't mean that outside sources aren't needed, but I know with help I can be better equipped for them.

It has been a long time since I have dedicated much energy to my own physical well being. It was too exhausting and I was too apathetic to really pursue a level of great fitness. But in October all of that changed, the fire was lit and it continues to grow.

I started running by myself and enjoyed the quiet. But after being reprimanded in front of the young women I decided I would swallow my pride and run with a group of women who run marathons, and not just run them, but run them fast. And it's been exhilarating, and my butt has only been frostbitten once.

So we'll see what can happen. At the end of this month I'll run a half marathon in southern Utah and am registered to run the Ogden marathon in May-only 6.5 months after I started running but I really feel good.

I am looking forward to this year. There is much to tackle and it won't be easy, but the sun keeps setting regardless of who I am, yet it feels so much better when I am better than I thought I could be.

2009 II

2009-12-31T08:48:00.001-08:00

So here is the second installment and these photos are not cohesive or in any order nor will they make much sense because there is something wrong with my web browser and it is not cooperating with blogger and really, I don't have time for this kind of temperamental behavior.

This is in Michigan, check out the stroller in the water, this is how Rosemary enjoyed the water-sitting in it in a stroller.

I can frequently be heard to tell the children to run to the mudroom to put on their shoes. Before Rosemary could walk, this is how she would respond to the command.

These are the petoskeys we found in Michigan. If you are walking the beaches of the northern lower peninsula and you aren't looking for petoskeys, you just aren't living.

The sailboat named "The Norah".

More beach.

Lulu's birthday at Challenger. Check out Rosemary's tongue. People always ask me if it fits in her mouth.

Beautiful Lulu on her birthday.

One of Brad's clients gave him first row tickets to the Jazz game last Saturday that included the Jazz club 100 buffet. I don't really know anything about the Jazz, but I do know a little bit about free (expensive) buffets.

We spent a lot of time walking the paths of Thanksgiving Point's garden this summer.

We also took the kids to the They Might Be Giants concert. So so fun. STOMP YOUR FEET!

The pines in Michigan.

At the zoo on a cold day.

A way too docile lynx.

A very undocile praying mantis taking down a grasshopper in my garden. That praying mantis was my hero.

More Thanksgiving Point.

Our traditional breakfast Christmas morning: crab Benedict.

The kids and Brad walking to the concert.

For a joint mutual activity we took a fun private tour of the state capital. Remember when they were renovating it to make it earthquake proof. Well I guess these are the earthquake proof parts. They are like giant slinkys (that was the professional description that our tour guide gave us and since he was the chief of staff of the speaker of the house, I believe they are giant slinkys).

Abram's birthday cake. It's my first decorated cake and I ran out of black gel, but Abram didn't seem to notice and thought he had entered cake heaven.

These girls came into town at the beginning of August. We were all roommates, worked together, saw each other through some serious break-ups, make-ups, heartbreaks, and laughter. We also all served missions:Japan, Hong Kong, Nova Scotia, and Provo. We now have 15 children between us.

There are many gaps and missing pages, but that is the way it feels. It's been a Tasmanian devil of a year. But I will miss my boy being two, and my baby being a baby, and Norah's little teeth, and Lulu taking naps. I'm hoping that 2010 will be the last that I ever see of Abram's diapers.

Just in case you don't get it in time...

2009-12-22T13:26:00.001-08:00

or ever...because you really can't expect me to go out in this snow storm and please don't say that I've had like 21 days to mail them already.

2009 Part 1

2009-12-17T07:47:00.000-08:00

The past 12 months have been intense ones for me. When I envisioned my life as a mother I saw peace and quiet and of course, I never yelled. And although I have whittled my life down to the bare necessities, it is still a mad dash. Between schools, therapy, YW, a husband who owns a busy law firm/title company, and now my early morning trainings-I've left most of our life unwritten.

So I purpose to do a pictorial recap--nothing fancy, mostly pictures that have sat lonely hoping to see their day in the sun. Maybe there will be some slight explanations-mostly for my memory.

(These will be in no particular order)

So I think this may be from the 4th of July, whatever it was it was awesome.

Let's take some Michigan. As a child I remember finding plenty of tree frogs among this myrtle. I don't find that I like to adventure among the Myrtle like I used to.

This photo pretty much sums up the essence of my year.

I never wrote about my grandfather--or about how extraordinarily large my hair was in Michigan-XXL.

My dad is a "subtle" fanatic.

Lake Michigan water is cold, but I consider myself incredibly lucky to have contracted skin cancer on that beach and in those waters.

Well, that's all the reminiscing I have time for today.

If you are really lucky, you may be able to view another installment.

Family Pictures...

2009-12-09T13:15:00.000-08:00

Since we like to make it a nail biter...we waited until this last Sunday to have our family Christmas card photos taken by my sister in-law Kate. Taking family pictures with a bunch of little children is always something special.

But this year, it wasn't so horrible.

Kate is good at what she does, and my children were promised suckers, so I suppose you cannot go too wrong with a sugar incentive.

It has been ridiculously cold outside so because of our profound procrastination, we now have inside photos.

This is one of my favorites because only 2 of my children have their tongues sticking out. Score.

But oh my beautiful girls. I promised them sound of music hair.

You know, the family photos I love of my youth, are not the ones where everyone is perfectly positioned and behaved (as if those even exist), the family photos I love to look at are the ones that make me laugh and remind me of my siblings' young personalities.

So maybe family pictures aren't something to stress over,

maybe they should just be enjoyed.

And if all else fails we always have the photo below to beautify our 2009 Christmas card.

Thanksgiving '09

2009-12-02T09:55:00.001-08:00

The dashboard read 28 degrees. My hands, toes and daughters said it was too cold to run the 4 mile turkey trot in Orem--but I could taste revenge.

For a year now, I've had my brother Tim in my sights. Last year Tim ran the trot in 22 minutes. How dare he. Who does he think he is anyway? Doesn't he know that I am the best runner even though I haven't trained to be the best runner in like...18 years?

So Thanksgiving morning, it was showdown time.

Sure, I had only started running 3 times a week 4 weeks prior to the race, and sure I am female--almost 13 years Tim's senior, and I had just had a huge chunck of flesh carved out of my big toe by the dermatologist, but no little brother of mine is going to show me up.

So the race began with the traditional segregation of the men and women. Don't ask me why. And try as I might, when we merged I could not find Tim. But my dad found me and no matter what I did I could not shake him. I would sprint ahead of a small crowd thinking I ditched him and then I'd see him at my heels again like some lost dog. He was ruining my game.

The above paragraph is a joke dad, I appreciated running with you.

The race ended with my dad at my heels and Tim finishing 10 minutes faster than I. I suppose that's not so bad for only a months worth of work.

But I'm still running Tim, and I'm not stopping...it's only a matter of time.

In other Thanksgiving news:

We partied and took really fuzzy phone photos.

We ate, we laughed, we thanked.

And when it's all said and done, I am grateful. What a good family I have. There are no people I look forward to spending time with more than you--that includes you, Sarah Louise. And you too Tim.

We missed you Nate, Sarah, and Cathy.

Mastitis

2009-11-30T11:09:00.001-08:00

Red, burning, aches and chills mastitis on top of, an achy, chilly, depleting cold on top of, 5 extra large aching holes that the dermatologist decided to carve out of my body.

And YW in excellence is tomorrow.

Rock on.

I don't want to brag or anything...

2009-11-24T11:00:00.000-08:00

but we were ten minutes early to nine o'clock church for no good reason other than we are super righteous. Top that!

Guess What?!

2009-11-18T12:17:00.001-08:00

I'm not pregnant! And as much as I would love to have another baby (someday), this is seriously a record for me. And, it feels strangely good. A perfect reason to celebrate, right? Who would like to join me?

Life is full at the moment and as soon as someone doesn't need me right this second, I will write more.

A little bit of afterglow

2009-11-12T15:51:00.001-08:00

I just got done hosting a neighborhood luncheon--I made a clam chowder. It feels like it went well and I have resolved to have more neighbors over no matter how busy it gets.

There is left-over chowder, my neighbor left me a loaf of homemade bread, the after party cleaning is complete, my baby and I are snuggling beside a window looking out over a dimmly lit valley and listening to an angry wind pound our hill top.

But it feels cozy and harmonious in here.

A Beauty

2009-11-05T13:09:00.000-08:00

The sun summoned us this morning as we dressed and I began opening windows.

There was a lazy hum of activity in the garden below. The last of the grasshoppers were making their final attempts at the last of my hollyhocks. A smattering of violet bachelor buttons attracted the remaining hungry bees as plush finger-tip sized spiders caught whatever dared to whirl.

By chance, we had very little on the docket so we toddled along and joined the tune.

There are days that just fall in line, one after the other. There are days that I barely make it to the next.

And then, there are days like this.

Halloween

2009-11-02T08:38:00.000-08:00

It all started with Spiderman.

I'm not quite sure when or how Abram and the webbed one became acquainted but upon the meeting, Abram only saw red, blue and black. There are spiderman pajamas, spiderman underwear (not that spiderman knows how to use the potty-but just in case), spiderman blinking light shoes (Oh how I hate the blinking light shoes), spiderman shirts, a spiderman bucket, a spiderman poster-Abram even carries around a well-worn empty spiderman bandage box. So when it came to Halloween costume planning, well, that was a boring no brainer. Because I like to be cohesive, it was decided that all of the children should be superheros. On a Saturday morning we gathered around the computer pulling up pictures of wonder woman, batgirl, supergirl, and of course, spiderman. The children grew excited as we watched clips on youtube. I turned to Brad and said the only thing left for us to do is to dress as villians.

Brad decided on the joker. He said I should be cat woman. Of course, he would say that. It became apparent that there is really only one recognizable female villain and that is cat woman. But let's face it, she's a bit of a skank.

But I do like cats. I do own a black t-shirt. I also own a pair of running tights that have been laundered so much that they are barley hanging on to black. And, cat woman's costume would be one less thing to sew.

So in all her skank-o-licious glory, I was cat woman-at my mom's house.

Super Heros go to School

2009-10-30T09:08:00.000-07:00

Wonder Woman and the Bat Girl are off to school, deflecting bullets and fighting crime.

This last (cold) week of October

2009-10-29T14:06:00.000-07:00

We've been preparing for Halloween,

I finished the last costume accessories this afternoon. My sewing machine needs a break.

We've been making roasted soups, vegetables, and scavangering for anything that isn't yet dead in the garden.

The young women who are no longer my young women, heart attacked me last night as I sat sewing. I pretended that I didn't know, and continued to sew. I walked out onto my porch and cried over all the notes and laughed at the pumpkin, which is obviously a rendering of me.

Looks like it will be a wonderful Halloween.

A little weekend to remember

2009-10-26T08:52:00.000-07:00

I barely remember what Norah was like as a baby. I sort of remember what our life felt like. I would pay a handsome sum to be able to slip into the shoes I once wore and feel my new mom thoughts and Norah's tiny hand.

My regrets: I recorded very little. There are very few photos, and far too few written feelings, which makes the revisiting difficult.

So to get back to the roots of my blog, I am going to try to record the glimpses, the mundane, and the tiny hands-just for me. I need it to remember and appreciate. If you would like to visit, be my guest.

Rosemary is the sweetest thing I've ever known. She is done with her spider crawl-she rarely let her knees touch the ground...and it's gone. She loved to place mom or dad's shoes on her hands and "walk" around, that is fading as well. But she walks like a tiny robot, stiff, jerky, and muttering a foreign tongue.

I can't get enough of her, and she loves having her photo taken.

Norah and Lulu are a crazy handful. Sometimes, I wonder about the penance I must be doing, but they are so beautiful and thoughtful that I am grateful for the time I have with them, even if it is nuts.

I went to my first movie to be seen in a theater in 7 years! While driving to the theater Norah kept asking me if I had ever seen a movie theater before. She informed me that it was dark, had a big screen, and that I shouldn't be scared.

I enjoyed the movie, but I still prefer my "away from the kids time" to involve conversation and good food.

Preparing for church was the same: Abram expecting to leave the house in his bike helmet, hair pulling, threats, yelling and pretty girls. But church was different, only one young woman attended. Starting from scratch to restructure a program that draws a little crowd is daunting. But magic seems to happen when it is truly the Lord's work.

So here it is again, Monday morning and I am back on the crazy train.

A Broken Hearted Love Story

2009-10-20T11:46:00.000-07:00

Moving slowly and turning my swollen belly sideways to reach the faucet, I washed counter tops and swept floors. The phone call from the executive secretary with the message that the new Bishop wanted to meet with me early Sunday morning hung heavy in the kitchen. We had not yet met as a new ward and this new ward consisted only of a bishopric and a few hundred uncalled members.

My husband sat on a stool, "what do you think it is?", he asked. "I don't know, maybe relief society or primary", I replied. "It couldn't be about Young Women, I can't do that right now with a new baby. There is camp, youth conference, weekly activities, meetings, teenage drama-I'm just not in that place right now".

Of course, half of this conversation took place in my head-listing all of the reasons I couldn't possibly be called to YW. And I really didn't think I would.

Sitting stunned across from the Bishop and his counselors, I thought about all of the hours he had already dedicated in that short week, organizing a new ward, seeking the Lord's direction to make right choices, praying for help. As he looked at me sincerely, and waited for my answer I felt no burning desire or revelation to serve the YW. I only felt the need to follow through with a covenant.

In the days that followed, I tried to organize an auxiliary, have a new baby,and figure out what in the world I was supposed to be doing.

My first Sunday with the YW didn't produce any breakthroughs, it only reaffirmed my suspicion that I lacked teenage conversation skills and that I was clueless. I went home hot, sweaty, fat-about to burst, and ashamed that I wasn't more of a drill team leader kind of gal.

I had such a small understanding of the program that I really didn't know what to pray for. So I settled on love. I needed to love them, teenage girls need love-I know that I did.

Now, almost 15 months later, our bulging-at-the-seams ward has split. And although I am still the YW president in my 6th ward, 16 of the 24 girls are going with the new 7th ward. I still don't know what I am doing, I am still not cool, I am no better a drill team leader, but I have fallen in love.

I love the silliness and the teachability.

I love the silver smiles and the sweet hugs.

I love the laughter and the tenderness.

I love to feel how precious they are; I always come home high after an activity. There is no greater blessing than the Lord sharing His vision and the worth of souls with you.

And all of this just to have my heart broken.

But broken is better than unbreakable, and I am better for the opportunity.

2009-10-14T12:58:00.001-07:00

The kiss of the sun for pardon,
The song of the birds for mirth,
One is nearer God's heart in a garden
Than anywhere else on earth.
~Dorothy Frances Gurney, "Garden Thoughts"

My fledgling garden has been a place of refuge. I've spent hours upon hours covered in earth, burying my wishes, secrets and troubles among the dahlias and daisies.

Frankly, there is no place I would rather be. A perfect afternoon for me is Norah spinning dreamily in circles while I dig, prune, and drift among the rhythm of fat bumble bees,

spinning cosmos, and perfumed roses.

My breath and thoughts slow in the company of birds and bugs, and I find my beauty (all beauty),

instinctual and intended.

I am grateful for a small piece of earth to call my own,

and to do my best with.

So here is to my little garden in it's 11th hour of it's first fall.

On A Right of Passage

2009-10-12T12:57:00.000-07:00

When your first child walks early it is clearly representative of the child's parents' intelligence, success, and outstanding athletic ability.

When your second child learns to walk, you say, "That's nice".

When your third child learns to walk, you mutter a "whatever".

And when your fourth child arrives, you whisper fervently in their ear, "please stay small, fit in my pocket and be my baby forever, don't grow-or walk--please, please, please!".

And when they disobey you, you cry and let them go on a cloudy October day.

We have good times too...

2009-10-09T11:25:00.000-07:00

About a week ago the girls and I undertook the adventure of planting 200 bulbs, which means I still have 100 to plant, multiple random holes to fill and Norah and Lulu are barely speaking to each other.

Abram is always wearing this getup. He attracts a lot of attention in the grocery store with the bike helmet. I say it's protection in case he falls out of the cart.

While watching conference on Saturday, we made glitter pumpkins, and decorated for Halloween.

Rosemary is still perfect. I really mean it. I am so lucky to have such a sweet tempered, loving, and gentle baby.

She just cuddles and coos and fills me with love and gratitude, and often that is just what I need to get through the day.

The Truth (at least some of it)

2009-10-07T12:45:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking about comments I receive,the people I chat with once in a while and the perspective of those who read my blog who may not know me very well (although when we speak of knowing someone, there is a whole spectrum of knowledge isn't there?).

A blog, from what I can see and know, is a polished fragment of reality. Most of the truth I choose to keep private because it isn't up for public display, discussion, or debate. And sadly, there are people in my life (possibly most people's lives) who think that they are entitled to weigh in on my children and my choices.

Having said that, I feel that sometimes, not sharing the truth about certain things can be a disservice to others. I certainly don't want to mislead anyone by presenting a life of only beauty and loveliness.

I am often sad and have many setbacks. Lulu has made a lot of progress, but still struggles with a number of things. Just when I thought we had a few of them down she started to regress back into horrible social melt downs. They are often embarrassing and exhausting. She is inconsolable, and I am clueless. She is beautiful, and she is tender. I love her, but I am less than adequate for her in these situations.

I don't really feel like sharing that much about Norah, but I will say, it is a difficult situation. Norah is a sweet and sensitive little girl,we are trying to find the best way to help her focus and achieve her potential. I struggle every single day to keep myself calm and patient while trying to help her perform tasks.

Abram is occasionally sweet tempered, it's true. But he really is a Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde. He throws screaming and kicking temper tantrums 5-8 times a day. I pray every night and every morning and often in between that I will know how to keep him calm and how to love him more. And, he's not interested in the potty, bummer.

Rosemary is perfect. Seriously.

So, to summarize, sometimes I am a good mother. Often, I am not. Although, I don't run around with friends, go out to lunch, watch TV,shop, or sit at the computer (very often), I fall short all. the. time. I don't know what the answers are. I am often lonely in my problems, oh yeah, there are also my problems besides those of my children (which essentially are my problems as well) and I almost always feel inadequate for this job.

I have a lot to be grateful for. I love my children, they are the reason I wake up every morning and the reason I fall in bed exhausted every single night. But I want you to know that these pretty pictures aren't the whole story, they tell only a small piece.

So here is to anyone else who struggles and cries. I invite you to stop by sometime for a drink and a hug.

Headway

2009-10-02T15:26:00.000-07:00

Summer is fading. A chill is at our door and has doomed my dahlias.

Shoes and socks, now back in vogue, inevitably divide themselves causing ceaseless drama.

It's a Texas Chili type of day,

and we are celebrating because someone got her first 100% on a math test.

A little nostalgia goes a long way

2009-09-30T15:05:00.000-07:00

Ten of us piled into a battered three-tone Beauville full-sized van as we embarked on a trek west, or east, or south (for that matter). The trip would be smelly, there would be wet pants, hair pulling, threats, yelling and an astronomical amount of dirty looks, but time was spent together and these times are remembered with fondness and laughter.

Whether it was Mt. Rushmore, Lake Superior, or Zions, I am grateful for the family road trip.

Have you been watching The National Parks: America's Best Idea on PBS? Incredible.

Suburbia can get you down, I often feel a real disconnect when surrounded by artifice. We've been trying to regroup our natural bearings once a week as we go on hikes and wander through trails.

My best memories with my family have been in natural settings, where stillness and gratitude were easily felt, and where God's beauty whispered it's truths to me and I felt whole.

So here is my plan: buy a map, stake out national parks we would like to visit, learn about the history and treasures of that park, then drive to the park fighting, wetting, and screaming all the way. Hopefully the awe and wonder of our visits out weigh the threats and the yelling that will surely ensue. And hopefully the nostalgia for alfresco family time will lend it's legacy to my children.

Anticeptic

2009-09-24T12:17:00.000-07:00

Tuesday was a heavy day, a morning meeting regarding Norah left me feeling a bit broken and fearful.

Life is so often rerouted from the anticipated course, and we are left in a heap of humility with only the essentials intact. Isn't it just like God to reiterate once again that my own understanding is very, very limited? And that I desperately need Him?

I'm not sure what all the answers are for Norah, but I am sure that there is room for more love, sweeter words, a gentler touch, and more direction from her Father in heaven. He loves her and I know that he wants to help us succeed as her parents, whatever that may mean.

Feeling lonely and achy Tuesday night, I reluctantly joined the young women for our activity. I sat cross-legged in a darkened room and listened to President Monson's words. "Never let a problem to be solved become more important than a person to be loved" soothed my aches and satiated my need. The problems this situation presents matter little next to the need to love.

And again, His perfect love casteth out all fear, and maybe this, in part, will help Norah.

A little bit of backlog

2009-09-18T12:52:00.000-07:00

I've taken photos, when it occurs to me. I've mind blogged here and there-scraping it all for a library book or a shortbread cookie recipe.

I keep thinking I'll just post little bits of our days so that there is something to look back on, but than I think about the meat of our lives. Should I share? Is it an open door for those who feel the need to condescend? I, for one, have found support in the words of those who have similar paths.

Don't get me wrong, I'm content and enjoying my life, but there are things...

Do I write about Norah and her struggles?

Do I write about Lulu and her afternoon "school" at Autism Journeys?

Do I write about how there a few fleeting moments in the day when I want to cuddle Abram close and smother him with love but mostly I want to leave him screaming and yelling in the grocery store/library/Thanksgiving Point garden/park, and pretend I don't know him or his sorry mother?

Do I write about how being the YW president is often rewarding, always busy, and sometimes incredibly difficult? Do I write about how there are times it makes me feel lonely, alone, and sad? I know, "all these things shall give me experience, and shall be for my good". But there are days.

I'm content to let the world pass us by-to make a peach this or a peach that.

Finding the balance between simplicity/establishing a house of the Lord and charity/knowledge is a serious and ever evolving endeavor.

I'll continue to think about it while making another tart.

And while my baby smears her face with sugar.

The End of Innocence

2009-08-25T12:41:00.000-07:00

The 2008-2009 school year was a difficult year. You know the drill, I was called as YW president, I had my 4th baby in 5 years and then Norah and Lulu started school.

Despite Lulu's recent diagnosis, she actually thrived in a structured and busy routine. Norah, not so much. There were calls from teachers, parent conferences, and a tutor was hired. Norah and I spent many of our days frustrated, overwhelmed, and tearful. Her struggle just about sent me over the edge. Too many nights I barely slept worrying about my job as a mother.

The souls of a mother and a young child are so intertwined that it is difficult to access a portion without considering the whole.

There is a certain loneliness in being a mom.Often we share our triumphs and defeats in knowing nods and embraces, but there are unique burdens carried alone in order to escape the generalizations, judgments, and condescension. Over the course of the school year I learned who could be trusted with the raw, and who really couldn't. I am so grateful for friends who listen and love. I hope to be more like you.

Then the summer came and we were able to escape to leisurely expectations. You would find us under the tutelage of the library, the praying mantis, "hoppers", flowers, and clear, cold, great lake waters. But now our school of make-believe has come to a close and I feel a little apprehensive.

Sunday we had a special family dinner with grilled salmon, sweet corn relish, and grilled asparagus. Lulu had an apple. Lulu is under the impression that Salmon ranks among the undesirable food.

For desert we had a strawberry tart which Rosemary thoroughly enjoyed. We had a family council, set goals, received father's blessings, and resolved to use the potty (mostly Abram's goal, but still a good goal for everyone).

I woke up early yesterday morning, did my best June Cleaver, cleaned, cooked, smiled, took Abram and Rosemary to a quiet and destitute Thanksgiving Point garden while Lulu attended her afternoon program.

And so we will see. I certainly am depending on and need more than my capabilities in order to have a successful school year.

Who knew school became more difficult when vicarious?

So I cut my hair...

2009-08-20T13:31:00.000-07:00

Essentially, I've had the same hair since 10th grade; long layers, frizzy, occasionally styled, always safe and slightly boring.

Maybe the Young Women are rubbing off on me, they easily mix it up. Blond, pink, skunk,somehow they seem to pull it off. I am far too old for blond, pink, or skunk, but I can do bangs. Maybe?

Abort the bangs and stick to plan A?

Or super-foxy-can't-believe-you-are-a-mom-of-4 hairstyle?

*photos taken by Norah the amazing armature photographer

The Rose Party

2009-08-14T14:43:00.000-07:00

Menu:

English Fish & Chips

Corn

Homemade Lemonade

Pavlova

Luck of the Thirteenth

2009-08-13T13:36:00.001-07:00

It's been an overwhelming year. I've found it difficult to reconcile the number of people who are expected of me. Struggling (mostly alone, because who can be trusted with the truth besides the Savior?), I've found the saving grace of a perfect baby.

Moments of her fist year play and pause like pages and songs. Silent images softly gleam and ripple, etching themselves upon intangible photo albums of hope.

Her awkward grasp finding my finger. Her searching mouth loud and large. Those soft sweet lips sucking and then turning themselves into a toothless, engaging grin.

Strawberry hair, light, faint and fuzzy atop a fair head. Deep gray eyes, loving and gentle, always optimistic. A childhood dream fulfilled-my cabbage patch had strawberry hair and gray eyes.

Nestled in my arms, patient and still, always soft.

The gentle babble of mamama. Kiss after kiss, she's seen me through.

Oh she is sweet.

I love you Rosemary.

Happy Birthday.

More Michigan...

2009-08-10T12:37:00.001-07:00

There is no shortage where these came from, and as soon as I can secure some peace and quiet in our lives (as if), I will finish the movie masterpiece I have been working on. Don't hold your breath.

Today is My Birthday

2009-08-03T14:07:00.000-07:00

Passing dramatically through the swinging cherry door, I crumpled into a sobbing heap of self pity on the kitchen linoleum.

It was my sixteenth birthday. Nothing magical had happened. No fairy godmother, no car (not that I expected one, my parents could barely afford the one they had), no budding goddess-like figure, and no prince charming. Even worse was the fact that I realized 16 years were gone, forever. And what had I accomplished? Nothing.

It is a possibility that I had slightly high expectations. I may even have been a hormonal teenager.

Yet, every August 3rd, no matter the scenario, I feel a little melancholy. Where has the time gone? What happened to all of my aspirations, what the freak is happening to my body? And, what is it that I have accomplished?

This morning, with the children all lined at the counter with their juice and their oranges, I turned to the cupboard to reach the bowls. Unprompted, Lulu said, "Mom, you are beautiful". Abram concured, "You gorgis mom".

The melancholy subsides for the morning. Raising children that understand the art of flattering an aging woman is somewhat of an awesome accomplishment.

A slice of Eutopia

2009-07-30T13:21:00.000-07:00

We just returned from what I would call home. All green, blue and gold. Dappled in shadow and light.

Silent. Miles from suburbia. Cocooned in damp vineyards and scented pines.

Abram has been placed by Homeland Security on the "No Fly List". But that is it's own story.

I've just reentered "life" to begin the most intense but exciting week, so more photos and stories later.

It's time for some due diligence with a grasshopper and weed infestation.

Quiet Wonders

2009-07-01T15:06:00.001-07:00

Are you sick of my flowers? Too bad.

I grow where I am planted quite well 10 months of the year. Unfortunately, Canada day seems to usher in a slight ache for home, humidity, trees, and water which acutely grows as the mercury rises.

I tried to "prep myself for success" this summer by allowing for little wonders to be savored and enjoyed (and by Jedi mind tricking myself with mantra's such as "It's not hot", "You are not suffocating". I am so almost brainwashed).

Some quiet wonders to enjoy in my microcosm:

The wind tends to blow a bit in our neck of the woods (such is the cost of living on a gully overlooking a canyon). Brad and the kids make the best of it with Sunday kite flying.

Of course, a few kites lost their way and were found on our roof and the roof of our neighbors, but Brad isn't afraid of heights so all is well.

Norah's silliness, drama, and energy is at an all-time high. I am exasperated by the time I put the other children to nap, which means: it's time to put her to work.

We work side by side to bring our fairy tale garden dreams to fruition (OK, me a little more than Norah, but mind you, Norah has plenty of fairy dreams in the garden). She lugs a purple watering can by her side, splashing and tipping water about on fresh compost and sizzling concrete. Little is left for the intended flowers, but a task is a task and she completes it.

I look on as she spins and leaps, falling and crashing with the intensity of a street car and the grace of a butterfly all at once.

I look forward to our time alone every afternoon. It is still and quiet. The nuances of our relationship and leisure settle on the steps of a silent siesta.

Details and delights swirl and stretch at our fingertips and toes as we slowly weed and sow. Sometimes the sun shines too brightly and we fad amidst our infant blooms. Often, merciful shadows blossom, growing in pearly swirls of smokey cliffs and bluffs. Mystery unfolds. Suddenly the sky splits, and soft encouragement falls.

In these moments we drink in the fragrance of the summer. We grow heady in the bathing of our organic fortress. We marvel at the tiny, translucent praying mantises which climb clumsily on our arms and bleeding hearts.

I am perpetually covered in earth and varying degrees of sun rash; but I am in love.

We enjoyed our annual round-up dinner with the Smiths, wherein we digested gossip, laughter, and the goodness of an 11 year friendship.

I relished a dinner with blogging friends who I have been anxious to meet. Over red curry we shared, giggled and barely noticed we were the last customers at closing. I am grateful to have made such beautiful friends.

And at the end of the day, with the condensation from a lemonade sliding on my fingers, I escape to the porch with Brad and listen in silence to the dusky drama of our back yard.

Simple Summer

2009-06-16T14:12:00.000-07:00

I'm hoping for a simplified summer; lived and relished. We have tickets to ride to the Old Mission peninsula, hopes for heaps of vegetables, plans for camping, swimming and bug catching.

I plan on regularly sharing photos of our days, but will add very little commentary (unless of course, I feel like it) because if I feel like I need to and I don't have the time or inclination then I won't post anything.

So here are the photos of what we've been up to:

Singing Heart

2009-05-28T13:06:00.001-07:00

I thought I should probably check in.

Even though life is complicated and at times stormy, there are blessings that illuminate and are enjoyed.

Every Friday I take the children to the public library. The trip is greatly anticipated, yet you wouldn't think so by the fight that ensues at the front door when too many hands try to push the automated door opener. This squabble is quickly followed by the argument over who placed the most books in the return slot, which is followed by who gets to carry the book bag, not to be out done by the fight over the drinking fountain stool.

These details are not my point, my point is: Norah picked a book a few weeks ago titled My Mother has a Dancing Heart. Trying to implement more of a dancing heart into our daily routine, I kicked my daily impromptu musicales up by singing Pop Corn Popping on the Apricot Tree Axel Rose style. I was quickly interrupted by Abram's loud objection of "Momma, don't sing". Norah sweetly healed my wounded pride with a "My mother has a singing heart".

With all of my short comings, fumbles and foibles; I will seek a dancing and a singing heart (except of course, when I don't. You understand right?).

The above photo makes my heart dance. Lulu's pants are perpetually on the loose.

Abram split his lip open and required 8 stitches. What? You can't see them? That is probably because we will soon be receiving an extraordinarily high bill from a highly skilled plastic surgeon. Still; this ordeal made my heart perform an off-beat dance while I was at Youth Conference (on the phone with the hospital, my mother, and Brad) performing an amazing race.

We've been fixing up our house a little bit here, a little bit there. The children have tipped over more than one cart at DI, but the treasures are worth it.

Our yard is finally being done and landscaped (by done I mean it will be ready for me to plant and dig and vegetate with the heirloom tomatoes that have been patiently waiting in pots on the porch). In fact, as we I write, the bobcat is squealing along at top speed and my oak floor is blanketed in a layer of top soil and desert floor. But I am so excited to stick my hands in some compost and come away filthily cleansed.

We just returned from Zions where lizards large and small are breathing a sigh of relief.

We've chased butterflies, rain, and the bobcat (hours of entertainment) and have attended spring programs galore.

I'm wishing for a summer that never reaches 90 degrees, thunder storms at least 3 times a week, and one that remains calm; yet filled with dancing and singing.

I'll keep you updated on the dancing and singing. Let me remain in my fantasy about the weather.