Henry's Baptism

I'm not feeling very inspired or poetic lately.  Mostly trying to hide my hideously swollen ankles and meet the demands of the day.  But there is still life to be documented...and I can do it with my feet up...so here I am.  My apologies to you, Henry, if the chronicle of your baptism is anticlimactic.  Please be assured that the day itself was not.  It was full of meaning and warmth and truth and goodness.  Truly, it could not have been lovelier.  My heart felt like it would burst as I drove to the chapel in the spring sunshine, reflecting on the incomparable blessing of being your mother, your dad's wife, and marveling in the belief that our tiny little orbit really does matter to God.  The happiness spilled out of my eyes and dripped down my cheeks.  I brought my camera to take pictures, but didn't want to be distracted from the beauty of what was happening trying to preserve it for later consumption.  So the next day after church we snapped a few pictures in our Sunday best in an effort to memorialize the occasion.  

Peter Rabbit Party

Once again, Grandma Nan dazzled us with her creativity and charm when she hosted a Peter Rabbit Party for the children a couple weeks ago.

We learned a little bit Beatrix Potter and the advent of Peter Rabbit.
We watched a short cartoon about when Peter sneaks into Mr. McGregor's garden.
We danced the Bunny Hop.
And ate a delicious lunch of rabbit food (veggies, salad, fruit, sliced cheese), the cutest loaf of bunny bread you could imagine, and carrot cookies for dessert.

It was so darling and fun.  And one more reminder that we are lucky, lucky ducks to have such a creative, fun, devoted, amazing grandma.

The Firepit & The Secret Room

**Lily camped out with her treasures in the secret room**

When you move into a new house there are always a hundred projects to do - walls to paint, appliances to replace, repairs to make, furniture to buy...you know.
But for us, some of the top priorities had to do with memory making and childhood-magic facilitating.  So before we replaced the A/C unit or furnished the family room, we finished out the secret room under the stairs (dry walled, painted and carpeted) and we built a fire pit in the backyard.

Looking at my brood and their blaze through the kitchen window

 Prepping for foil dinners

The fire pit has been especially fun.  It is so easy to invite another family over for foil dinners or roasted hot dogs & s'mores.  And there's just something nostalgic and comforting about sitting around a fire.  The conversation flows easy.  The food tastes better infused with a little smoke.  The kids run around with marshmallow goo on their chins, playing tag and kicking balls and riding scooters 'til the bottoms of their feet are black and their bones are weary with the goodness of childhood.      

Mr. Mack

Yesterday I went to take a picture with my phone and a message popped up that said "you cannot take a picture because you do not have enough memory to store it." Or something like that.  I'm a fairly decent minimalist in my daily affairs, but for some reason I have a hard time deleting pictures from my phone.  (Obviously.)  But last night it was time to delete.  As I scrolled back through the pictures I realized there were several memories/moments stored there that haven't been transferred here.  I, of course, got nostalgic looking back -  thus the hesitation with deletion.  So please pardon the deluge of miscellaneous pictures.  I need to preserve those little bits and free up some space on my phone.

We'll begin with Mack.  My first nephew.  My kids' first cousin on my side of the family.  Honestly one of the most darling children to ever inhabit this planet.  We are so in love with him.   Have been from the very beginning.  It's strange the way you love your family, so instinctually and strongly.  I already feel like I would do anything in the world to help that little guy feel happy and loved.   

This picture that Henry drew for him when we first went to meet him at the hospital cracks me up :)

      

These Days

I am trying not to moan and grunt when I roll over, bend down, stand up.  I am trying not to complain about the heaviness, the aches, the time that remains.  But sometimes I do.  I am trying to remember how very blessed I am to be here, with child (and husband and home and health and Henry and Lily).  

I am thinking so much about my dear Kate and her upcoming wedding.  She is sweet and special.  Jason is lucky.  He is sweet and special, too.  And she is lucky.  Their union will be a gift and a light to the messed up world.  They have so much truth to build on.  So much wisdom to draw from.  So much love to sustain them.  They will soar and shine and soak their surroundings with their goodness.

I am trying not to think too much about the surgery (c-section) that looms on my horizon.  It gives me so much anxiety to imagine it all - the numbness and catheter and pain.  It is hard.  But baby girls are sweet.  And worth it.  And pain is temporary.  And glory, it will feel good to be not-pregnant when it's all over.    

I am thinking of the projects I'd like to do - the pots I'd like to plant, the garden I'd like to till and prep and sow, the changing table I'd like to paint, the weeds I need to pull, the haircut I need to schedule, the people I should call and visit and minister to, the cupboards I'd like to clean out, the corners I'd like to scrub.  I made myself a long list today.  But there are so many daily to-do's - rides and dishes and laundry and meals and listening and homework and music and all the little tasks of nurturing.  It will take an act of mercy and miracle for me to make much progress on the bigger projects.  But I am also ok to let them go because...

I am thinking deeply, daily about what is really important in this season of my life, who and what I should give myself to.    

I am constantly wrestling against my introversion, the tendency to hunker in, stay home, retract.  I am so happy with quiet, alone, home, simple, reflective, productive.  I feel a constant paradox in my life - a dichotomy between my innate propensities and what I believe Christianity requires of me.  Goodness, I could write a lot about that.      

I am trying to relish in and give thanks for each little gift, not looking too hastily for the next source of satisfaction.  It is so easy to let the horizon of satisfaction keep moving just ahead of where we are.  And as a few things have fallen into place that I used to lump under the "if only" umbrella, I realize that happiness has always been there.  All along.  I have only needed to choose it, reach out and hold it.  

I am trying to preserve quiet, conscious time to ponder on the words of general conference.
I can't remember a time when I've been more keen to what the prophets and apostles are teaching, and advising.  I want to know, evaluate, change, understand.

I really don't know who reads this blog anymore.  I've long since given up dreams of internet fame or popularity.  I just want to remember. I feel like I'm pretty good at chronicling our family happenings and the funny/cute things the kids say and do, but every once in a while I want to open up about what I'm thinking and feeling.  It always feels a stretch to do it in this sort of public space...but this is the only family record I can rely on.  The only journal I won't lose...and the only one I faithfully keep.  And I don't want to be the faceless, feelingless narrator.  It just takes a lot of guts to really be known.  But I would die for a chance to be more acquainted with the thoughts and struggles and conundrums my mom confronted in her thirties.  That raw, revelatory writing is the stuff that thrills me and sets my mind ablaze with insight and understanding.  But again...guts.  The next dozen posts will probably be little narrative bits about the kids, the happenings, the surface.  But a couple months from now maybe I'll feel a little restless again.  A little brave?  And maybe I'll divulge a few more substantive thoughts.


    

Sound Bytes

He lost a tooth at school just before spring break.  He said when he pulled it out his whole class clapped and cheered for him.  He was so tickled to have lost a tooth at school!

* We begin our family home evenings with "family business."  Usually it's just me and Nate ping ponging back and forth about to-do's and syncing events on our calendars.  But this week when we announced it was time to talk about family business, Henry piped up, "Good.  I love it when we do family business; I finally know what's going on around here."  We had a good laugh about that.  And it was also good for me to realize how important structure and predictability are - even to the little people in this operation :)

* Yesterday Henry and I did a lot of yard work after school.  We mowed our big lawn (quickly because we were trying to beat the threatening rain).  We built a little path out of flagstone from the patio to the side gate.  We cleaned up a bunch of landscape fabric that had been churned up in our flower beds and raked the bark smooth afterward.  The whole time I felt like Lily should be out helping us, but didn't really know what to have her do, especially since I couldn't supervise her while I was mowing.  When we finally came in to wash up, cute little Lil had a stool pulled up to the sink and was washing the dishes that had piled up throughout the day.  "I wanted to do this for you so you wouldn't have to get your belly wet," she told me.  She has plenty of spunk and sass, but at her core she is a sweet, sweet observant little soul.

 On a recent hike: "Look, guys!  When I do this face I can see my eyelashes!"

Fantastic Mr Nate

After many late tax season nights, Nate decided to take a slow morning at home.  Henry was home from school, sick with a fever and cough.  The kids begged their dad to finish Fantastic Mr. Fox.  So he did.

I love:
- my kids
- their dad
- books in bed