Mine

 I've been taking pictures lately in that last hour before we eat dinner--the one where we're waiting for Neil to get home and everyone is a little cranky.  It's kind of a crazy time (big understatement), but it's one that I want to remember when they're all older, because they are so darn cute.

ps--yes, I finished appliqueing the pillows after the picture was taken.  

Monday ruminations

walking in the woods yesterday
I've been struggling lately with feeling cumbered by too many cares--a little Martha-esque.  I wonder if she worried--while she was cooking and cleaning and bustling around preparing things--that really she should be right where Mary was, seated at the feet of Christ.  I wonder if she debated whether it was more important for her to go learn from the Master, or to prepare for all the guests in the house.  I wonder if she worried that no one else would do it, and that things needed to be done, and I wonder if she was a little heartsick thinking about what she was missing.  Or if she was so stressed that it didn't even cross her mind, and if the Savior's gentle rebuke was a total shock to her, because she thought she was really making a good choice.

I worry a lot about whether I am choosing the better part.  There are so many things in my life that--in my mind--need to be done in order for our life to function smoothly.  But there are so many things that I want to be doing that it seems we just don't have time to do.  I'm not sure what to cut out.  I think I need to pray for more discernment and fortitude.

This week is going to be hard.  In the four days from Monday-Thursday, I have eleven appointments.  Eleven. All of them are vital and none are reschedulable.  That's not counting the nights that Neil is gone, or driving Abigail to school and picking her up.  Or the thirty miles I need to run this week.

Yesterday in church we talked about visiting teaching.  Our wonderful Relief Society presidency outlined a very specific set of goals and standards that they would like us to meet over the next six weeks.  And I admit, I sat there trying not to cry.  Not because I was so touched by their message, although I was--I really believe that visiting teaching is a wonderful program.  But I felt completely overwhelmed, because I know that visiting teaching is so important, and it has made such a difference in my life when I have had really wonderful visiting teachers who were attuned to my needs.  But I don't know how I can find the time to be that kind of wonderful visiting teacher for four different women and still meet the needs of my own family.  I have always been really diligent about at least visiting my sisters every month, but while I bring meals and babysit, it's more because I see a need than because I am doing it regularly as a matter of course.  I've just felt really despairing about that over the last day or so, because I know how much I would love someone to somehow magically make things easier for me, and I know that my visiting teaching sisters feel exactly the same way.  Because we all do. 

Lately I have been wishing that I had more time with my children to just be with them.  That I didn't have to hurry them through lunch so we were on time to drive the carpool.  That I had more time to read stories before somebody showed up at the door.  That I didn't have to worry about laundry or giving Isaac his breathing treatments or washing dishes.  I just want to be with them.  And I worry that I'm on the wrong side of that teeter-totter of caring for their physical needs while providing for their emotional needs.

Like I said before, I need to pray for more discernment.  One thing that I have found very comforting over the last five years or so is realizing that if I had everything figured out, there would be no purpose in living on Earth.  Because this mortal life really is a time for us to be tried and tested and to figure things out on our own and to grow stronger because of those experiences.  This is what I keep telling myself, because it seems like I'm always confused and pulled in a dozen different directions, and endlessly worrying about whether I am doing the right thing as a mother and a wife and a person.  If I knew what I was doing, then what would be the point?  Right?  I'm grateful for the chance that I do have to make these decisions and have these worries.  I'm grateful for my ability to choose my own path.

what I did last night...

Old pillows (like ten years old) + old T-shirt (this one isn't the one I actually used,
since it was all cut up by the time I took the picture) + $5 of new fabric...

equals these.  Hello, lovelies.

making things

I have all these lists and bookmarks on my computer for projects I want to make.  Hand-dyed fabric, hand-painted fabric, ruffled silk pillows, hand-painted rugs (are we sensing a theme here?), adding ribbon stripes to lampshades, spray-painting just about everything possible, making a crib skirt for Isaac (and a comforter, since he'll outgrow his crib soon and it takes me forever to finish a quilt), etc.  There are SO MANY COOL TUTORIALS out there!!!  And I want to try them all in my nonexistent free time with my almost nonexistent decorating budget (hello, inherited fabric stash). 

Problem is...Neil.

Who is generally very supportive of projects that I want to do, but does not see the need for more throw pillows (I don't think you can ever have too many throw pillows, plus they are so fun and easy to make!).  Right now we're Gmail chatting about this chevron fabric, which I want to use to make curtains in our bedroom, and Neil thinks looks like a referee in the process of falling down.  (Incidentally, he deleted my bookmarks when he reinstalled Windows a month ago.  Too many ruffled silk pillows, apparently.)

What do you think?  Would this be too much in floor-to-ceiling curtains in a black-and-white room? 

And what is your favorite online decorating tutorial that you've seen lately?  I'm partial to this chandelier.  Or this ruffle pillow.  And this fabric.

(ps...I still love my husband.  Even if he does think chevron fabric looks like a referee).  

pps--thanks for all your really awesome comments about school fundraising.  great food for thought!!

guest posting at Bloom

Today I'm over at Bloom with another exercise posting--check it out here.

of fundraising

Ever since Abigail started school, she's been coming home with an assortment of new "something to purchase" order forms tucked into her folder.  Scholastic book orders, school pictures, box top collection forms, wrapping paper fundraiser, etc.

Here's the thing:  I want to be an active contributor and volunteer in her school.  I've attended the PTO meetings.  I'm on the volunteer mailing lists.  I'm emailing back and forth with her teacher right now about the days that I'll come in and volunteer in her classroom.

But I also have no desire to purchase things at the grocery store that our family doesn't eat (like Box Tops foods or Capri Sun drinks, which if we bring in the package thingy will net the school about 1 cent).  Or march Abigail around the neighborhood selling wrapping paper.  Or buy books from the book order that quite frankly, I don't want (what's up with this?  I remember those book orders being AWESOME--but hers was terrible!!)

Abigail's teacher called today to make sure we really meant to not order school pictures.  Were we sure, she said?  And yes, we said.  We'll take them ourselves, we said (seeing in our minds the years of really expensive and horrible school pictures stashed away somewhere in a box). 

So.  I want to support the school.  But I would much rather just write them a check where 100% of the check goes to the PTO.  And I'd rather take photos myself of Abigail in a lot of different outfits and backgrounds and print the ones we both love.  And I'd rather order books from Amazon every time the book order form comes so we get the ones we really love (they should arrive any day now!)

I don't want my kids to feel awkward about these kinds of things with their peers (we did ask Abigail about the book order and the school pictures, and went with her choice to do both ourselves).  Although her teacher already has her pegged as "the one who refuses cupcakes," so her chance at normal is probably gone right there. 

What do you think?

10K race report

So guess what? I ran a 10K today!  In 52:34!  And I placed third for my age!!

I wrote more about it here.  I am grinning nonstop about this.  :-)

I love doctors

**No icky pictures, but this is about Juliet's ear, so consider yourself forewarned.  I found it fascinating, but if you get a little woozy at the sight of blood, you might not want to read any more.**

Today we went to see Juliet's specialist about her ear.  He checked her out with the otoscope and frowned. 

"Let's move across the hall," he said.  "I need the microscope."

So then we got to check out the ear microscope, which was really sweet.  He frowned again and I thought back to our conversation a couple months ago about how she'd likely need general anesthetic in the hospital to have her tubes removed.  And our conversation a week ago about how she'd need the same thing to have the granuloma in her ear removed.  I winced mentally as I prepared myself to go through scheduling another surgical visit for Jules, who celebrated her first birthday in the hospital having ear tubes inserted after 9 successive ear infections.

He looked at Juliet sitting incredibly still and quiet on my lap.  She hadn't moved a muscle or made a single noise through the whole visit.  He asked her to hold super still, and picked up a slender hooked needle about ten inches long, then inserted it into Juliet's ear. 

Juliet didn't twitch.  Her eyes looked a little sad, but she didn't make a peep.

He asked her to turn her head and snuggle more closely into my neck.  She did.

And then he extracted--without surgery or general anesthetic!!!--the granuloma in her ear.  It was about the size of my fingernail (I cannot fathom how it fit in her ear!), and was a mass of granulated tissue and blood that had grown around her dislodged ear tube.  The tube had somehow irritated the skin of her ear, and when the skin began to grow closed over the irritated portion, it grew right around the tube, just like a pearl forming in an oyster.  Eventually, it outpaced its blood supply, which is when it burst and began leaking blood and other ooky stuff (and smelling really awful). 

Okay, so maybe I'm weird, but I thought it was really cool to watch him dissect the granuloma afterwards--Juliet and Abigail and I were all peering over his shoulder totally fascinated, to see the tube in the center.  It reminded me of that story in one of James Herriot's books where Siegfried just pops the tumor off the cow and the skin closes right back over it.  Amazing.  And the best part was when Juliet smiled very wide and said in a tiny little voice, "I can hear again!!" 

I love the fact that he was willing to do a procedure in-office that he could have billed much more for in the hospital, and that he told me when talking about the follow-up prescription, "You don't want to have to pay for those ear drops ($100/bottle and we needed two)--let me go get you some samples." 

And that is why I love doctors.  Because they can do amazing things, and most of them are so kind and generous and caring.  It seems like we hear a lot about this trend to not trust doctors and avoid unnecessary procedures and follow your instincts and it's all about money and crazy insurance companies,etc. etc., but my family has been blessed so much by wonderful doctors.  Our pediatrician is amazing; she not only knows what's going on with each of my children (and remembers their history without having to flip through the charts), but she remembers details about me and what's going on in my life.  My obstetrician made a special point of being in the operating room when I had surgery 28 weeks into my pregnancy, even though another surgeon was actually performing the operation--and she wasn't even scheduled to be in that day--but she wanted to check on me and make sure I knew she was there--and she was by my side in the recovery room afterwards and gave me the updates on the status of the baby.  Juliet's audiologist and ear specialist have made a world of difference for her; her eardrums are completely healed and her hearing is totally normal again. 

And I just want to say that I think we are SO blessed to live in a time where medical training is widely available, and where there are dedicated, talented, and intelligent men and women who can make such a difference with their skills and compassion.  I'm so grateful for the medical advances we have today.

a lot of Isaac and some other notes too

All my kids have had different little hidey-holes that they used a lot from about 12 months to 24 months.  Abigail liked to sit in the corner behind her high chair and sing to herself.  Juliet's was in the laundry room, perched on a pile of shoes covered with every clean dishcloth from the kitchen drawer (boy was I glad when she grew out of that one!).  Isaac has developed a real love for the corner behind the left-hand papasan chair in the living room; he likes to hide there with his blankie, a snack, and his Camelbak (more about that one later).  Did you know he's fourteen months old now, as of yesterday?

Also--he is officially walking (and has been for some time).  Make that running. Jooj started walking around ten months (but didn't fully commit until a year), Abigail was fifteen months old before she was doing much, and then she went from tentative steps to full-out sprints.  Isaac has been probably the most complacent yet; I think those well-padded cloth diaper bottoms are much more comfy to fall on. 

So back to the Camelbak.  The other day Abigail tossed her backpack down and said, "Well Mom, I've got to go train." 

"Oh," I said, quite amused.  "What are you training for?"

"My half-marathon," she replied coolly, and trotted off.

I think Isaac's Camelbak obsession is in the same vein.  I'm always carrying mine around, and ever since he was about ten months old, he cries until I finally let him take a sip.  We bought him his own this past weekend, and a more overjoyed little grin you cannot imagine.









Other miscellaneous things:  we replaced the boring builder-standard pendant light in our dining room.  I like to get something tangible to remember trips, and this was what we picked up over the weekend in Chicago.  I like looking around my house and seeing things with memories attached to them; a pendant light probably isn't what you think of when you think of memorabilia (where are the sea shells, Navajo rugs, and pottery bowls?), but it makes me happy.  Plus it's soft, which is good because Neil whacks his head on it about once every five minutes that he's in the kitchen.

Last but not least, a big shout-out to a couple of family members:

My grandparents celebrated their sixtieth wedding anniversary on Sunday.  We're celebrating with them this weekend--congrats, G'ma and Papa!!

My brother-in-law Chad is running the Top of Utah marathon on Saturday--I am sending wishes for a really awesome tailwind down the canyon his way!

And Neil and I are running a 10K on Saturday, which I am soooo looking forward to.  It seems like it will be all the fun of a race without a brutal distance.  Six point two miles sounds SO good right now (right, Chad?!) 

Chicago getaway

This weekend our children spent the night at the home of some close friends, and Neil and I had our first ever stay-the-night-somewhere-without-kids.  (We did do this once a couple of years ago, but we stayed at home and just relished the quiet!)

This time, we headed up to Chicago.  It was a lovely 28 hours away--we ate at some amazing restaurants, went to the temple, ran 10 miles along the beach at 10 PM (which just seems like crazy talk in parenting mode!), and did some shopping and strolling.  It was so nice to focus on each other and eat meals without persuading someone to take a bite, or worrying about nap schedules or navigating with strollers or the like.  I love my children, but I love my husband more.  It was great to give him 100% of my attention and have him focused on me the same way.

Afterwards, we both agreed that our favorite part of the trip was our beach run.  You can read more about that here.

image--because we were having too much fun to remember about the camera ourselves.  Oops.

PS--In some ways, this trip made returning to "real life" really hard.  I reread this post and it sounded like yet another "my life is great, blah blah" kind of thing.  The reality is that five minutes after we came home, I wanted to put everyone in bed and just leave.  I spent most of Sunday either crying or yelling. This too shall pass, I know, but it seems like we're stuck in a power-struggle rut. I'm not sure why I'm babbling about this, but I think sometimes blogging makes life appear too perfect. 

have you read this?

I came across this really intriguing post the other day about Mormons and design blogging.  Something fun:  finding out that the Martha Stewart Living offices are dominated by Mormons, as are the intern slots on David Letterman.  Who knew?  But my very favorite part was the comments:  everyone was so kind and positive, even though the majority of them weren't practicing members. 

I loved how positive the author of this post was, although she's no longer actively attending the LDS church.  One of my very favorite things about blogging is the chance that we have to show our faith in a positive light through our everyday lives.  I think it's a great way for non-members to see the principles in action and how they really affect our families and the day-to-day: we're happy people who revel in our families and our faith.  And we love being crazy productive and doing all kinds of inventive and creative things, because that's just how we were raised.  :-)  A friend from middle school called me a few months ago and told me that she'd decided that even though she wasn't interested in the church herself, she needed to talk to her Mormon friends because she wanted to feel that same optimism and joy in life.  I was so struck by the fact that while I had literally not spoken to this girl in years (I moved to another state when I was 14), that was what she remembered. 

I like reading things like this because they make me reconsider how much of my character and personality are based on my religion.  I always figure that my morals are grounded in my faith, but I think that the upbringing and the values influence so much more than that. 

What do you think?  Has this been your experience as well? 

PS--I am always more than happy to answer questions about my church.  :-)  It makes me so happy every single day.

guesting at Bloom

So excited to be guest posting again today at Bloom!  Today's post is the first of a five-part series on creating an exercise habit--check it out!

And if you're coming over from Bloom, welcome!  :-) 

And speaking of exercise, guess where I'm running 10 miles tomorrow...the Chicago lakeshore!  I am SO excited!!  (Is it really goofy to be excited about that?)

Applesauce

Want to know something?  "Applesauce" was my first word (or more like "applesloss" if you want to get technical).  It's good stuff.

I love canning applesauce.  It comes right at the perfect time--I'm sick of pitting peaches, hulling strawberries, snapping green beans, blanching tomatoes, crushing blueberries.  Applesauce is like a gift--quarter the apples, throw them in a pot with some water until they're softened, crank them through the strainer, and bam!  Applesauce.  I love it.

Our kids have been there for every step of the way on all the food preservation this summer; they've snapped their fair share of green beans and been up to their elbows in strawberries.  But applesauce is something that they can really do "all by themselves" (boiling apple mush, however, is still done by Neil and I).  Plus, we let them eat all the apples they want, which is like a dream come true for some reason.

 

Isaac wasn't really a big apple fan before Saturday afternoon, but he's been very enthusiastic ever since (I guess if you get plunked down with 140 lbs of apples as your only toy for several hours, you do what you gotta do).

sometimes my heart gets all tight and squeezy when I look at them...

Aren't they beautiful?

PS--Juliet could use some prayers right now--the yucky smell was from a pea-sized growth in her inner ear.  She's on medication right now that we're hoping will shrink it, but she will probably have to have it surgically removed.  Prayers for a very uncomfortable little girl would be appreciated.  :-)

Putting it all back together

Today is a recovery day.  We had a really awesome weekend, but I kind of crashed yesterday.  I was in bed before the kids--I vaguely remember Abigail and Juliet talking to me through a sleepy fog, but I was so wiped out!

Here's what we did over the holiday weekend:

• Ran 17.5 miles
• Went to the zoo...
• ...and the playground
• Processed 140 lbs of apples into 40 quarts of applesauce, 8 pints of apple chutney, and 4 pints of cranberry-apple relish
• Ripped out part of the garden
• Cleaned out the garage
• Froze 28 cups of chopped bell peppers
• Spent two hours grading student essays

And Neil worked all day Monday. 

Today I'm trying to catch up on everything else--the house is kind of a wreck, for one.  And Jooj has this crazy stinky ear that we're going to get checked out at the doctor's today.  Honestly, I'm feeling really overwhelmed (so what do I do?  Sit down and blog!).  I'm just hoping I can accomplish the majority of what I need to do.  I slept through my morning run, so I have to wedge that in somewhere today (I'm on week 7 of half-marathon training and I haven't missed a run yet, so I feel like I can't let myself down!), plus all of yesterday's laundry is sitting on the couch waiting to be folded.  All the bathrooms need to be cleaned, the kitchen floor is still applesauce-sticky, and the carpets are all covered with stuffing after Juliet ripped apart an enormous stuffed soccer ball.  I need to go get more seeds and replant the garden with fall lettuces and things like that.  And make about ten batches of pesto.  And figure out something to do with all the okra (ideas, anyone?  Because I seriously did not know the okra plant was going to go crazy like this.)  And the furnace guy is coming today. 

Anyway, I've been planning a blog about applesauce-making, so hopefully that will appear sometime in the next couple of days. 

I don't even know why I'm bothering to write this post, because it's not that interesting, but this is just what is on my mind--LIFE IS CRAZY and I'm trying to catch up! Do things feel the same in your neck of the woods?

smells like Resolve

After I finished helping Abigail with her homework, I walked into the library to discover Juliet, Isaac, and my self-inking address stamp in the middle of a thoroughly inked carpet.  They waved their blackened hands at me in glee.

As I scrubbed vigorously at their ink-stained legs, the ink on the carpet, the ink all over the bathroom, and surveyed the Goldfish crumbs they'd ground into the ink mess, I had one thought...

I am SO GLAD I have a nine-mile run scheduled tonight.  Because I need to metabolize some stress hormones like nobody's business.

It's been a week of tantrums and power struggles and tears and time-outs (for adults as well as kids.  Well, at least for the tantrums and tears, although I wish I'd give myself some time-outs). 

Welcome, weekend.  We're so glad to have you!  We have big plans to eat breakfast at the farmer's market and light a fire in the backyard and maybe visit the zoo and can some applesauce.  We just really need you now, weekend.  Thank you for coming so promptly (even if Neil doesn't get Labor Day off like the rest of the civilized world...)

Foodie Friday: Homemade Mozzarella

Okay, it's finally here!  I've done more trial-and-error, and I think I've got it.  Go here for the cheese!

Rainy day fort fun

 In August, our state set a new record for the least amount of rain--ever.  It was less than 1/3 of an inch.  It seems fitting that we welcomed in the first of September with beautiful, delicious, wonderful thunderstorms.

And what do you do when rain is beating against the windows?

Why build a fort, of course!

Jules was the mommy and made us dinner (but pretty quickly, I had to be the mommy so they could play Laura and Mary from the Little House series.  Isaac was designated as "good old bulldog Jack," since Baby Carrie was played by Hippo Hippo, wrapped in  a bandanna and stuffed inside a shoebox). 

Our fort came complete with a clothespin fire (on which Abigail is vigorously blowing to get the flames    going--she's been paying close attention to Neil's fire-starting!

 

Isaac reaching for the sky...

Abigail kept making me laugh--at one point she went to the bathroom and came back and said, "I went to the johnny-house," which is what they call it in When I Was Young in the Mountains.  Oh, I love little kids!

lesson learned; or a story in four parts

Part I

I'm not a hugely sentimental person.  I love throwing things away and clearing them out (just ask my mom, who retrieved all my high school trophies from the trash when I was packing up for college.  Good thing, too, because Ruth displayed them as hers.  :-) 

But this grubby cloth doll has been with me for the last twenty-six years.  My parents purchased her from a street fair just after I turned one; I named her "Marthy" and she was my constant companion as a child.  I slept with her on my bed all through high school and college (until Neil booted her off, but I still hid her on my side between the bed and the wall).  Sometimes I resented the fact that she wasn't an American Girl doll, but mostly I loved her and sewed her face back on and braided her hair and sat nervously by the washing machine while she spun around and then loved her some more until her face came off again. 

When Abigail was about two, I passed Marthy on to her, with some trepidation.  But she needed to be loved by little girls again.

Part II

Two or three weeks ago, I decided I wanted the girls to have better access to their art supplies, figuring that this would mean that we would have crayons and markers and paints out on a more regular basis, since I am a total feet-dragger about things like this.  (Is it going to make a mess?  Then no, we will not get out the gluesticks!)  But I wanted to change this. 

So Juliet and I spent an afternoon reorganizing all our art supplies.  I moved cookbooks and tablecloths and placemats out of the hutch in the kitchen, and we bought some sliding drawer organizers and stocked them with new construction paper, drawing books, gluesticks, markers, scissors, crayons, colored pencils, etc.  It was a pretty sweet setup.

And yes, the table has been covered with stickiness and paper scraps almost constantly since then (Abigail can barely wait until we finish breakfast).

But.

Today.

Part III.

I followed a trail of brown yarn snippets from the kitchen, across the living room, down the hall, and into Juliet's room.  Marthy sat propped against a bedpost.  Juliet sat in front of her, brow furrowed with effort as she carefully snipped and trimmed, then paused to examine her work.

"I give Marfy a nice haircut, Mommy," she said, wide hazel eyes looking up at me happily. 

Part IV.

I did not yell.  I did not scold.  I gently explained that we do not cut dollies, we do not cut in our rooms, and Marthy can't grow new hair.  And that Mommy is sad because this is her special doll from when she was a baby. 

We rebraided Marthy's hair, which was now at least eight inches shorter and featured some short feathered layers.  And a noticeable absence of bangs right slap in the middle of her forehead.

And then Juliet picked up every scrap, and carried them to the trash can.  She told me, "I so very sorry, Mommy, I never do that again."

And I hid the scissors.

And we are going to buy some new yarn, because that poor doll deserves some bangs.  (And a new mouth, and a spin through the washer.)