On The Sunny Side

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

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

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

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



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

Bet you think I'm inspirational now, eh?

But other than that, things are pretty good.

Three First Days

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



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



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



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



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

Girl's camp starts tomorrow...

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

You get one guess what our theme is.

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

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

The Cat Who Earned Its Keep

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

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

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

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




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

Some of our Summer Scenes

A bouquet from our garden.

Daisies



Hollyhocks



An escape.



A sun stained kitchen.





Corn





Yes, we got a kitty.



My perfect baby has soured as a toddler.



The shirt sent her into a tail spin.

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

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

Our Red, White and Blue Weekend

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




Not even chips can part Lulu from her math bingo.











Opportunities to share present Abram with the opportunity to hit.














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























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

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

Wishing I were a thousand miles away...

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.