spring break

The children are on spring break from school right now.

Here is what I was planning that we would do:

• go to the library
• go to the Children's Museum
• go to the playground
• crafts every day
• walks every day
• plant the garden
• go camping

Here is what we have done:

Throw up and be feverish and miserable.

I had a momentary bit of hope last night when nobody had been sick for a solid 24 hours; I emailed my friend that YES!!  We could go to the museum today!!  And then poor Jooj came running into our room  at 5 AM and was sick all over.

But despite this, I am (telling myself that) pretty happy.  We're managing to salvage some good moments here and there, and the weather has been nice enough so that we can play outside a bit, and we've done some organizing, which always makes Abigail happy, and she & I went on a little date last night to the library and she got her first library card, which sent her over the moon with joy.  And I'm really grateful that this hit when the kids weren't in school; it's good to let everyone sleep in and fully recover and not worry about days they're missing and needing to wake people up to get somewhere on time.  (trying to embrace the cabin fever!)

And best of all, I got some wonderful news last night; my dear aunt (by far the most faithful commenter on this little blog!), who just had surgery last week for cancer, found out that it had not spread through her lymph nodes as her doctor feared it might.  I am so excited and my heart is just overflowing with gratitude for this wonderful news.

And since this is all I have time to write, go read my little sister's blog for some good Neil stories.

wordless wednesday

why hello again

I've been too busy living lately to update my blog.  Like most of the country, we've had unseasonably warm weather, which means we've been spending a lot of time outside just living (well, that was last week--this week I graded midterm projects like a crazy woman and the kids were sick).

One of the things I've been working on off and on is an essay on what LDS feminism means in my life (thanks to an old friend at BYU who contacted me about being part of this project). My essay has veered so far from this; I've ended up talking a lot about how I went from being very focused on my own success to learning to find joy and fulfillment as a mother.  One of the things I realized in the process of writing this (which is good because I don't know if the essay will be published at this point, because it's so far off the prompt) is this:

There has been no transcendent realization for me, no moment when I learned how to reconcile my divergent desires and yearnings.  Some days are good and some are not; sometimes my heart swells with gratitude for this perfect little family, and sometimes I dissolve into tears and leave the dinner table.  It has been a gradual process for me to make it this far; to be able to introduce myself as a mother of four children without immediately adding that I have a graduate degree and I still teach.  I have no wisdom to offer other than my own experience, hard-won and painful as it is.  My children are, quite simply, the delight of my life.  They are my greatest source of worry and stress as well, but they are my delight.  As I kiss my baby’s fat cheeks and hear his delighted, “Mamamama!” or tuck in my three-year-old and accede to his imperious demands to “Tiss me, Mama!” or cuddle up with my five-year-old who gently rubs her cheek against my shoulder as I read to her, or sit cross-legged on the floor across from my seven-year-old as she confesses to some minor peccadillo—this, right here, for me, is happiness.  This is when I feel that great upswelling in my chest, that explosion of love and warmth and divine assurance that carries me onward.  Seeking out these moments, then, and making a deliberate effort to create not only the moments but the kind of mothering life that I have told myself is enriching, productive, and worthwhile—perhaps this is as close to transcendence as I will come.  

As I've been writing this essay, I've become aware of how often I deliberately seek out and try to create these moments, and how important it is (so simple, but sometimes so hard) for me to "show up" to mothering.  So this post is done with words; the rest of this is images from the past couple of weeks when I just felt like my heart was going to explode with love (and yes, we have spent a ton of time in the woods this week, because that is the quickest shortcut for me to feel like we are having this wonderful time as a family!  Watching the children run down the path or stop to ask me about a certain leaf or tree or pointing out a squirrel--for some reason that just makes me feel like we are creating wonderfulness).

in your prayers

When I was in high school, I dated a really awesome guy (I also dated a lot of not-so-awesome guys, but that's another story).  We dated exclusively during my junior year, sort of drifted apart (partially due to a well-intentioned bishop who really discouraged steady dating) but stayed friends throughout my senior year, dated a few times again during my senior year, and picked up again when I was home from college for Christmas.  I wrote him for a year on his mission until Neil and I were married, and when he came home from his mission we were still on good terms.  He ended up marrying a girl that lived next door to me freshman year, and whenever I go home to visit my family I always chat with his mother about how he's doing.  He's a wonderful guy and I've always been happy to hear that life is treating him well.

Which is why it was utterly heart-breaking for me to hear that his 17-month-old son has been diagnosed with an extremely rare and very aggressive (90% mortality rate) type of cancer.  Please, please, please keep this little family in your prayers.  You can read more about them here.

10 months

Time is flying!  And Luke is doing his best to fly along with it.  I snapped this photo of him while we were in Chicago this weekend (temple, IKEA, Lincoln Park Zoo, swimming at the hotel, and a quick stop at our favorite Thai place).  He was a little bemused by the wind in his hair but very excited for his first adventure with miniature Goldfish crackers.

It's interesting to me how much Luke reminds me of Juliet at this age.  Not only do they look very similar (they both have my eyes and hair; Luke's is starting to turn into little downy waves and curls, and he and Jules have the exact same hairline) but their personalities are so alike!  (And, unfortunately, neither of them are fabulous sleepers.)  Just like Jooj, Luke has been incredibly mobile and constantly amazes us with how quickly he can vanish and reappear--if you open the 'fridge, he's sure to zoom in, pull up, and start helping himself to whatever looks tasty on the top shelves.  He has his favorite toys and he's very particular--and VERY loud!--when Isaac takes them away (he and Isaac have an interesting relationship right now.  Interesting meaning I hear "NO YOOKEY NO," then an outraged baby yell, approximately every thirty seconds.  Luke has discovered that he can just crawl right over the top of Isaac to get the coveted toy; Isaac has discovered that he can whack Luke with the toy and make him back off.  All kinds of awesome).  And like all of my children, he is so incredibly in love with his blanket--if you dangle it temptingly across the room he will crawl towards it as fast as possible, pull it down out of your hands, bury his face in it, and roll around until he is completely encased in blanket.  Then he will look up at you with a mouthful of fringes and smile happily.

I introduced a cup a week or so ago--Luke is starting to catch on to both the fact that he can get water out of the cup into his mouth and (way more fun) he can bang his cup on his tray, squirt out water, and make Juliet and Isaac scream when the water hits them.  He's cut another tooth (he's up to 7 now, I think, but I'm not very good at checking) and he's over his horrible ear infection, which means he is once again the sweetest smiliest little chap.  When he gets excited, he either sticks out his tongue or--when he is REALLY excited--bites his hand and giggles.  It's the cutest thing.   I love going in to pick him up after his naps because he is so good at making me feel delightfully loved--my entrance into his room is the most exciting thing ever, and he greets me with a loud  "Mamamama!" and squirms around in my arms to smile happily up in my face and wiggle in delight.  And then I have to kiss his fat cheeks about a million times and make him giggle some more.

spacing

I read something the other day (I can't remember where and I'm not going to bother to hunt it down) about a new study suggesting that the optimal distance between children--for the sake of their IQ, and nothing else--is at least two years.  One sentence in particular stuck out to me:  if children are much closer together than 2 years, it's all about survival, rather than nurturing.

This is something I have been thinking about a lot lately, especially as my children are getting a little older and I'm worrying about the amount of quality time the older ones get compared to the younger ones whose needs are so much more immediate and apparent.  Here is the thing:  I would love to have another baby right now (Neil is the voice of sanity here and reminds me that we do have a baby).  And some days I am so so sad that I am not pregnant, because I just want to complete our family!  I look around and I feel like there are all these little faces that are missing.  (And then some days I think about how miserable my last two pregnancies were, and I am not so sad.)  But right now I'm also struggling to keep on top of everything involved in ensuring my family's survival, and I worry that I'm not getting in enough nurturing.  Where, I find myself wondering, is that perfect balance between the right number of children and the brain power and sanity and patience to give them maximum love and attention?  And then I wonder if maybe it just comes down to spacing.  (And maybe not worrying so much about dusting and vacuuming.  Good luck with that, OCD self.)

So I'm curious.  What do you think is the optimal spacing between children?  What was it like in your family growing up and how did it play out?  What is it like in your family now, if you have children? How do you walk that fine line between survival and nurture? I would love to know, because I am seriously thinking about this all the time.

journaling

Tonight I was looking for some old pictures in preparation for a YW lesson. Instead, I found a tattered poem that I had copied down years ago--it's framed on the wall of my grandmother's home in Rexburg, Idaho, and I can't recall ever walking past it without stopping to read it since I noticed it was there.  And I've never looked at the Tetons out of the east-facing windows without thinking of it.

The poem was written by a friend of my grandfather's after his death.  Unlike my mom's father, who has always been a huge part of my life, I've never met my dad's father; he died in a rock-climbing accident in the Grand Tetons the summer before I was born.  I've heard bits and pieces about him, and I've gathered a picture of what he must have been like over the course of family dinners in the house that he and his family built by hand in the Idaho desert.  One day when I was a grad student I climbed to the top of the BYU library, found his typewritten master's thesis, and sat down on the floor in the middle of the stacks and read it cover to cover.  Another time I unfolded a manilla envelope containing his unpublished Western and read it through.  Once when I was very sick with early pregnancy and was sent upstairs to take a nap at my grandmother's home,  I noticed a collection of articles and clippings about him on the bedside table and stayed awake reading those instead. And I've read Hugh Nibley's address (over and over and over) given at his funeral.  I don't know very much about him and I wish I knew more.  I've always worried about asking because I didn't want to bring up painful memories surrounding his death.

But I love this poem.  I remember the summer that I wrote it down; it's the one where I was obsessed with the idea of being an architect and it's written on a sheet of graph paper that I was using to draw blueprints.  It's torn and been retaped because I carried it around for awhile until I had it memorized before carefully sliding it in between plastic sheet protectors.  When I found it again tonight, I thought about recopying it into my journal, and realized...this blog is my journal, not the neglected volumes that I used to write in every day and now pick up sporadically and try to frantically fill in the details of the last few years.

So here it is.

The View
    for Don Decker

At the edge of the desert
where lava gives way to Plano
farms and the wind drifts pure
sand in the lee we chose
the graveyard, pumped water
ninety feet to keep it green.

It's only waste land--nothing
to erode the county tax.
Besides, it's easy digging, no need
to give up more than half a day
if death comes during harvest or just
before planting time.

Lizards bask blue sides
all summer.  Winters, black-tailed
jacks play hide-and-seek
with owls.  The backdrop lava outcrop
forms a natural monument.
As for the view

you can see the Tetons Resurrection
Morning and know exactly where you are.

--Donnell Hunter

after school

 ...is the crazy time.  An hour ago everyone was at school, sleeping peacefully, or content with puzzles and books, and suddenly the kitchen explodes with snacks and paints and scissors and crayons and "mommycanidothis?"

Some days the mess and the noise and the chaos drive me crazy, but some days (usually the days I got a good run in) I embrace it and we go all out and get out the tiny little party set and bake miniscule cranberry-walnut muffins and have ourselves a merry time.  

 Isaac insisted that I take a picture of him in this hoodie.  "Mommy!  Look!  My sirt it hab POHDITS!  My hands go all dah way frew!"

Last week one of my friends gave us their enormous stash of Lincoln Logs--I think ours was like 1/5 the size of this ginormous bucket.  Ever since, we've been competing to see if we can top our previous enormous Lincoln Log fort.  The kids and I were getting super into it the other day (my favorite part was when Abigail stared worriedly at the buildings and said, "I just have this feeling like we're forgetting something...something very important--oh, I know!  A GARDEN!  Silly me!"  It was awesome and I totally started laughing and then she got annoyed.

Anyway...we put Luke in the bucket so he would stop knocking things over.  Good times.

 We actually did take advantage of Luke's smashing prowess (no pun intended) last Friday night--we had "family party" and came up with all these weird competitions (pictured below:  "Who Can Stand on Daddy's Back the Longest?"  That one was very popular).  One of my favorites:  who can build the tallest house before Luke smashes it?  No dissuasion or persuasion allowed!  So much fun, such a good night.  The kids have been asking to repeat it every night since so I think it's going to become a Friday night tradition.  Especially the part where they run across the living room and Neil fires pillows at them to knock them over--that game scares me to death but they L.O.V.E. it.  The best part was when they had a whispered conference in the kitchen, then they all ran out and ran around until Neil had thrown all the pillows, and then they scooped them all up, deposited the pillows in the kitchen, and ran out en masse to tackle Neil.