Nice thought for a Sunday

I read this earlier in the week and it totally resonates with me:

The composer Stravinsky had written a new piece with a difficult violin passage. After it had been in rehearsal for several weeks, the solo violinist came to Stravinsky and said he was sorry, he had tried his best, but the passage was too difficult, no violinist could play it. Stravinsky said, "I understand that. What I am after is the sound of someone trying to play it."

Little Devils

Don't let their cute little smiling faces fool you. These two are terrors. The girl is mine, the boy is a good friend's son; we baby sit each other's kids often. Each one of these toddlers is a pleasant, fairly obedient, good-natured little thing on their own, but together they're like the vinegar and baking soda in your childhood science fair volcanoes; safe, non-toxic and stable until you mix them and get a stinky bubbling reaction all over the kitchen counter, or in my case, spilled milk all over the kitchen floor, Cate's bed sheets and blankets all over the front room, cat food all over the patio and peanut butter and honey all over the kids. Where was I?, you may ask. My husband did. Well, I was in my jetted tub having my regular midmorning bubble bath, reading a Harlequin and eating bon-bons. But I gave the children very specific instructions to sit on the couch and read their library books for twenty minutes, then get themselves a healthy snack, then lay down for a nap. And under no circumstances were they to get out any band-aids, peanut butter or cat food. Or throw blocks or rocks at each other. Or raid the pantry for chocolate chips.

Maybe I should ask my friend if they give her a hard time at her house. Do they combine their powers to create chaos in her home too? But what if they don't? What if they're good for her? What if she keeps them occupied with positive, social-skill building activities every minute they're in her care? Then I might have guilt. And she might ask exactly what they do at my house. And she might suspect that I spend most of the time they’re here organizing my closet and painting my toenails. And then she’d never bring them here again and I’d have to quit my job because do you know how hard it is to find day care in this town?

After watching me clean up the patio, the little boy said to me, “I’m sorry. I’ll never do that again.” You better not you sweet little thing, but what will you two think of next?
And what exactly, is a bon-bon?

As promised

Saturday:Sunday:

Easter Weekend

It was a little too cold to go far, but we managed to have a good time anyway. We tried to go to the town Easter egg hunt, but got there a whole 10 minutes late and it was over. The eggs were found, bagged and everyone was driving away as we pulled up to the park. Luckily we saw some friends who were late too, and invited them over for an impromptu Easter egg hunt at our house. Fun times. I am not a big fan of the Easter Bunny and I am also a slacker Mom, so my girls didn't get Easter baskets this year. I thought I had some baskets in the garage from last year to use for the hunt, but I couldn't find any. End result: my girls put their eggs in their Halloween jack o' lantern buckets. Hey, they're both Pagan holidays that kids collect more candy than is good for them, right? They didn't notice, or care about the difference. Then we colored eggs, ate candy and chips and salsa and thoroughly enjoyed the adult company. Well, I did.

Sunday was perfect; little girls in new dresses, uplifting sermons at church, ham, rolls and too much scalloped potatoes at Grandma & Papa's, and reading the account of the Resurrection in the evening.

Pictures later this afternoon...

Sunday

He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things? Romans 8:32
No matter how dark the Friday, Sunday will come.

I'll be twenty-nine next month

The Schwann's man just knocked on my door and asked if my mom or dad was here.

"Uh, sorry, no, they're not."

So, did he think I was a teenager or a living-at-home, out-of-work college drop-out?

Easter Memories

Easter is one of my favorite holidays, tied with Thanksgiving. My favorite Easter memories don't include candy, baskets or new frilly dresses, although those things were a part of my childhood Easters. What I think of when I think of Easter is the desert; the central Utah desert where my Dad's parents lived. I loved spending the weekend at my grandparents' home along with numerous aunts, uncles and cousins; married couples in the guestrooms, older, taller cousins on the couches and the rest of us in sleeping bags carpeting every square inch of floor, so that you couldn't walk without stepping on a leg or someone's hair.

Matthew experienced this family togetherness on a visit we made there before we were married. There was, as usual, a large number of my grandparents' posterity staying at the house. We arrived late at night and received the instruction: girls upstairs, boys downstairs. I went right to sleep, feeling at home listening to my family's breathing around me. Matthew went downstairs, heard the same sounds of sleeping Nelsons, but wasn't as comforted by the noise. He was not yet sealed to these people after all. He laid down his sleeping bag in the dark and slept, but was a little disconcerted to wake up in the morning and find himself packed like a sardine in a room full of strangers.

When I was young, our family would arrive late at night, be welcomed by Grandpa and Grandma, eat some Taco Soup and rolls and find spots for our sleeping bags among our cousins. In the morning, there would be oatmeal with raisins, which I can't stand, but feel nostalgic about just the same, raisin bread toast and cold cereal or scrambled eggs. Then dozens of cousins would climb into the bed of Grandpa's truck and we'd head out to the desert. I have vivid memories of bouncing along in the back, sitting up against the cab when I was small, daring to sit up on the side as I got older, braver and stronger. The driver, Grandpa or Dad, drove fast over the dirt roads and seemed to find joy in the screams coming from the back when one of us almost flew out. We’d spend the day exploring the dramatic landscape, bouldering, following dry creek beds, and climbing cliffs onto the red and orange buttes of Castle Country. We made paths for our hard-boiled eggs to roll down, seeing how far we could get them to go without breaking; seeing how far we could get them to go period. We ate hot dogs and pink salad for lunch.

When I’m in the desert, I feel both at home and homesick. I spent so much time there with my family as a child, it always feels familiar now. It makes me wistful for that time and long to make the same memories with my daughters.

That’s what’s on my mind this Easter week. My girls are excited for the Easter egg hunt Saturday morning at the city park, but I am hoping that we can rush through that and head for the freedom of the hills.

Black Gold

Here is our brand new beautiful compost pile. We put it in the back of our yard. It's actually not even on our property, it's on BLM land. I hope the bureau doesn't mind. I also hope our neighbor doesn't mind. It's not exactly the professionally landscaped look he has going on.

& don't be tempted to look for sweet treats in the cookie jar on our kitchen counter, there's vegetable peelings & brown lettuce in there.

Now we just need to get a goat & homeschool our kids.

Spring, spring, snow?

I had a post forming in my mind with pictures of all the plants we planted yesterday, how good it feels to work outside, my first sunburn (on the backs of my pasty white arms), and maybe even a few words on our brand new compost pile out back, but that all flew out the window just now when I looked outside. It is snowing.

Maybe I'll feel up to posting about composting tomorrow, if you're lucky.

Square Foot Gardening

It's supposed to be so simple anyone can garden, anywhere, anytime. "I've taken all the hard work out of gardening." Mel promised. He should have a disclaimer though, that says "Unless you have a yard full of rocks and you decide to put them to use by making your garden boxes out of them. Then you're going to be putting a lot of hard work into your garden."

Zion

We went camping & hiking in Zion this week for spring break. We found a trail a mile long that led to a breathtaking view. The Canyon Overlook. It's just past the 1st tunnel. Don't you always want to stop and look out the windows cut out of the mountain when you drive through that tunnel? This hike gives you the same view. The trail edged along a deep canyon, so Matthew held Catherine on his shoulders & I held Gwen's hand. Bethany is trustworthy enough to stay away from the edge. Gwen just doesn't have that much sense. She asked me, "Why does Bethany get to walk ahead? Why doesn't Bethany have to hold your hand?" even as she twirled in circles & leaped & skipped beside me. Well, my dear, because you would skip right off this cliff if I let go. We told the girls that this was good practice for the bigger hikes we go on without them. If you can be obedient and safe on this trail, we said, we'll be able to take you up Angels Landing in a few years. Bethany proved herself, but I think Gwen will be able to go rapelling with us before we trust her to stay on a trail like that, because then she'd be in a harness tied to a rope.

March 10

He is funny. He's a good dad. He spends most of his time doing things for other people. He's a morning person. He's hot. He can repair plumbing and dry wall. He likes to read. He loves kids. He plays Scrabble with me even though he doesn't love it. He works hard for his family. He's good at what he does. He took his girls camping this week for spring break. He makes the best smoothies. He loves me.

I am lucky.

His birthday was Monday. He is getting old.

Something I will never do again

I love taking pictures of my girls. The walls of our home are covered with their framed faces, mostly snapshots. I like pictures of real life; spontaneous, natural smiles, fly-away hair and smudged faces. I like to look at a photo and hear my daughter's giggle in my mind. When I look at their posed studio pictures, I hear a strangers voice in my mind saying, "Say Cheese!" That said, every once in a while I dress them up, take them in & get some canned studio shots with the good lighting & white background. It's just one of those things I felt like I had to do as a mom, trim their nails, make them cupcakes on birthdays and get their pictures taken once a year.

I'm over that. Our experience Saturday at the studio was very mediocre. (Can something be very mediocre?) It wasn't bad, the girls were well behaved and they looked as cute as can be. The photographer was pleasant, but not engaging or enthusiastic like a photographer of children should be. I wanted to push her aside (nicely) and get behind the camera myself. Can't you zoom in a little more? I kept asking. Say cheese, she kept saying, capturing painful forced smiles from my girls. I butted in with, Hey girls, think of Cate blowing bubbles in the tub this morning! They erupted in a fit of giggles (she wasn't blowing bubbles with her mouth). TAKE IT NOW! I wanted to scream, but the camera girl just looked at me, waited until my girls calmed down and said, Say cheese. I sighed, let her finish the session and chose a few poses. As soon as we got home, I grabbed my camera, went outside with them and got these:

and this:

and decided that in my next life (the one that starts when all my kids are in school), I'm going to be a professional photographer. But not too professional to make kids laugh by talking about bodily functions.

& one more thing, since when am I the mom of kids, not babies?

These small hours

Today is the first day of Spring Break and I'm dragging a little this morning. I was up late last night with a puking toddler. I need to get going on the laundry, which I was behind on even before last night's mess. I need to get ready for work this afternoon. I am grateful though, that my girls are generously eating cereal and watching T.V. quietly at the moment. After a night of throwing-up, I'm sorry, but the T.V. goes on first thing in the morning.

So, I am a little tired this morning, and I have a lot to do, but I really didn't mind being up with Cate last night. Matthew stayed up with me, and after we got the 2nd load of blankets & sheets in the washing machine, and our daughter bathed and clothed and wrapped in her Booma blanket, Matthew offered to hold and rock her through the waves of nausea for the next few hours. I held her another moment before giving her up. I knew I'd appreciate the sleep the next day, but I wanted to be the one to hold her. I make a lot of mistakes as a mom; sometimes I lose my cool or get busy and impatient. I worry that I'm inadequate for the massive responsibility of raising children. I wonder what I'm doing wrong and if I'm doing anything right. I compare myself to others. But! When I'm holding a sick, sleeping little one in the middle of the night, I know I'm doing it right. In those precious hours, I am a perfect mom.

What's a few hours of missed sleep compared to that?

Ode to my Mother-in-law

Today is my dear mother-in-law's birthday. I just have to say how much I love that woman. & how much I feel like she is my Mom, not m-i-l.

A few months after we moved here, my husband's parents suprised us by buying a home next door to us! Well, down the hill from us, withing walking distance even to my 3 year-old. This interesting development might have left less lucky daughter-in-laws than me shaking in their shoes & writing Dear Abby. But I have never been less than thrilled about the idea, and now the reality of my in-laws as neighbors. They are wonderful, down-to-earth, loving people. And even better grandparents. & my mother-in-law, well, she's the best. I have always felt comfortable around her and I think we have a lot in common. We're both immaculate housekeepers for example. & we're both married to a Lowe man, so it's nice to have someone who understands what I go through everyday. We even having matching shirts! (Because neither of us can resist anything on clearance.) She feeds my family when I have to work, she babysits my kids at a moment's notice, she gave me my birthday present on her birthday, and she never wrinkles her nose at my very lived in (read: messy) home. Oh, wait, I just said I was an immaculate housekeeper. Right.

I love you Mom! Happy Birthday!

Spring, spring, spring!

I realize the first week March doesn't mean spring for everyone. I'm truly sorry for those of you who still have snow on the ground. Really. I don't know how I could survive February without the handful of warm days we get here reminding me that spring is coming soon, no matter what the ground hog says. So, for those of you still shivering, here's a hint of things to come.

Today the sun is shinery, so the kids & I spent the morning outside playing & weeding. They played, I weeded. This is what's making me so happy today & making me want to sing show tunes:

Just planted these last week,& these are thriving from last year: & look at all the new leaves poking up from these dead-looking twigs:

I think the little leaves make me even happier than the flowers. I just love seeing things come back to life. A few of those are transplants from my mom's garden last fall, so I'm thrilled that they're growing. Oh, what a beautiful morning!

Bethany

Smart. Photogenic. Just. Sincere. Without guile.

For Valentine's Day, she spent hours making personalized Valentines for her 19 classmates. Then she read the generic storebought Valentines she received with as much sincerity as she put into making her own. "Mom!" smiling so big, "Brandon is ape over me!" & then, "Oh, McKenzie thinks I am a princess," etc.

She tells me everything. Everything. Sometimes it makes me a little crazy, like when I'm trying to get her little sisters ready for church & she's telling me every detail & rule of the game she played at recess last week. I wonder if the other children know just how many rules this game has. Methinks she plays with more rules than the other kids. But then I look at her & see how much she's grown in the last year, in the last 6 1/2 years & I realize that she's going to keep growing & someday, sooner than I think, (What if the next 6 1/2 years go by just as fast???) she'll have more to tell me about than playground games. There will be friends and best friends, betrayals, crushes, kids to stand up for, teachers that really stretch her mind, personal opinions, new ideas... and I want to hear all about it. Another 6 1/2 years later, and there will be higher education & moving out & falling in love & independence. & I want to hear all about that too. Another 6 1/2 years & I can hardly breathe thinking about it, marriage? career? where will she live? I don't think she'll always want to be next door neighbors like she says she does now. So I smile & respond & laugh as she tells me about how Chase captured her, how Brooke saved her & how the slide is base & when you can climb up it & when you can slide down & when the goblins are invisible & what secret rock you need to see them.

Now excuse me while I go blow my nose. Dang allergies.