Full of light

I snapped this photo last Saturday just before Neil and I went out to dinner. I love it because it captures just how I feel these days: happy. Content. Full of light and invigorated by life.

It feels a little silly to blog when I have nothing to say other than "I am so much happier than I have been in years and years and years," but that's the truth.

Tonight I was at a flower & garden show with a friend. We had such a good time just wandering around looking at things and chatting. At one point we had stopped by a booth that was making customized orthotics, and we were talking about foot issues and she asked if I was training for anything right now, and I said I'd originally been training for a marathon but had to drop down to the half because of plantar fasciitis. We talked a little more about the time commitment involved in marathon training, and as we were talking I realized something--for the first time in years I am not using running as a method of control. I mean, I ran a marathon with a stress fracture, for crying out loud! And I am so happy and so content in my life right now that running is ancillary to my happiness, and I have not been able to say that since 2007.

Literally.

For so many years I felt like so many things in my life were out of my control--that I was suspended in limbo, unable to progress forward. And in the last five months I have felt absolutely drenched in the outpouring of heaven's blessings--literally, I have felt that there is not room enough to receive all that the Lord has given us. I am so incredibly grateful for the amazing friends that surround us here and the way I have just fallen in love with our life here.

I'm going to write that again because I can't emphasize it enough--I am so, so, so grateful for the friends we are making here. I don't think it is possible to feel more welcomed and loved than I have felt.

And my children are thriving. Really and truly thriving. We had a few very rocky months but we're coming through and things are SO good for everyone.

Neil is loving his new job. He feels valued and appreciated & that his work is measurably contributing to the company's success. Such a blessing after the last twelve years of entirely opposite treatment!!! (I really can't write much about that here but most of you probably know what I want to say.)

And I love our home here so much. Every day I just look around and I'm filled with such gratitude that we live here in this beautiful home and that we are able to do projects that make me love it even more (in the last two weeks we installed new double ovens and a Jenn-Air gas commercial-style gas cooktop and ALL THE HEART EYES).

I love our ward here. I love that my children are excited to go to church and that they are learning so much from so many good people. I love love love my calling and the chance to serve with the amazing women in the presidency and our absolutely fantastic group of Primary workers.

I love the library with its heirloom seed library and its child-sized door for storytime and its endless rows of books that make it double the size of any library I've been in before. I love the arts & design district which is always the high point of my runs and I love the trails along the river and the greenway that is full of friendly runners and the roundabouts that drove me nuts at first but now I can't live without them. I love the Christmas lights that are still up on the fountains and pine trees in the center of the roundabouts. I love that my kids can bike to school or to the playground and that there are always kids out playing tennis in the street or biking or starting up a game of baseball. I love the funny weekly paper that always gives me info about what exciting things are going on. I love the parks with their inventive play structures and free maple sugar bush tours (hello that was the best morning ever!!!). I love the schools that give my kids the opportunity to study violin and foreign languages and STEM and ceramics. I love seeing Isaac's excitement when I pick him up from programming club and Abigail's joy after rocketry club. I love that the soccer fields and baseball fields are both within biking distance from our house. I love the ponds and creeks everywhere--it seems like I can always hear the sound of water. I love the proximity to Costco and Trader Joe's and IKEA and Whole Foods and Hobby Lobby--this is the first time in more than a decade that I can be at a Target in five minutes instead of twenty-five! I love our fantastic piano teacher and all our friendly welcoming dog-walking neighbors that my kids always refer to by name & pet as they walk by: "That's Melvin with the sausage dog." "There's Elaine with the frisky black dog." I love the friends who show up at my door with soup when I have the flu and the friends who drive carpool with me and the friends who worry about class changes for next year with me and the friends who lovingly describe pie recipes while we run at 6 am and the friends who stay at my house until 11 pm and tell me we feel like family and the friends who tell my kids they can't just eat tortilla chips for dinner and the friends who drop by to chat & clean my kitchen while they're at it and the friends who invite me for movie nights and the friends who have us over for dinner because they have lots of kids too and don't mind the crazy and the friends who trade playdates with me and text me for spontaneous double date nights and the friends who just text me to see how the day is going and if I want to meet up at a park.

I love it here.

There were so many dark years in West Lafayette where I honestly did not know if I would survive. If our marriage would survive. If my faith would survive. I clung so desperately to the promises I had felt and the peace I had felt when we originally prayed about our choice to attend Purdue for graduate school. I reminded myself over and over of the words of our stake president in blessings that he gave Neil & me during our last years there--that this was where the Lord wanted us; that he was mindful of our family, and that this was all for a wise purpose in him.

And I am so overwhelmed with joy and gratitude to see that purpose now. To know that had Neil not been forced to switch research topics after six years that this job would not have been possible. That had he not been delayed over and over by equipment failures, by funding losses, by research obstacles, that this field would not have been an area of extreme priority for his current employer. That had his funding continued as we had originally planned he would never have been assigned to the research opportunity that introduced him to his employer; that had his funding not completely run out and he literally worked for almost a year for no salary...this job would never have worked out in the way it did. That we would never have experienced the richness of happiness that we are enjoying now.

And I am so grateful for the fact that during all those years I was able to work. When Neil and I were married, my plan was to go to law school, and as I was proceeding with my application and preparation for the LSAT, it was very very very clear to me that law was not the Lord's plan for me, and that I was supposed to pursue a master's in English instead. I was absolutely ENRAGED by this (I vividly remember throwing everything within reach when I got up from that prayer), but my master's program gave me the training and education that has provided for our family so that we never had to take out student loans. We definitely lived on a student budget (and man did I love ordering furniture for our new home over the last few months!) but we always had enough for our needs and some of our wants. Such tremendous blessings and I can so clearly see the hand of the Lord guiding us here over the last fifteen years.

I just really hope that we get to stay put for awhile. ;-)

Last but not least, I have thought of this talk so, so, so, so, so many times over the last years. Neil and I used to listen to it a lot the first few years that we were married--we would go for a drive up in the mountains and turn this on. So frequently I would be praying and just pleading with the Lord to help me make it through another day and I would hear "I am the gardener here. I know what I want you to be."

So I hope this helps someone else the way it has helped me.

"Could I tell you just a quick story out of my own experience in life? Sixty-odd years ago I was on a farm in Canada. I had purchased the farm from another who had been somewhat careless in keeping it up. I went out one morning and found a currant bush that was at least six feet high. I knew that it was going all to wood. There was no sign of blossom or of fruit. I had had some experience in pruning trees before we left Salt Lake to go to Canada, as my father had a fruit farm. So I got my pruning shears and went to work on that currant bush, and I clipped it and cut it and cut it down until there was nothing left but a little clump of stumps.

And as I looked at them, I yielded to an impulse, which I often have, to talk with inanimate things and have them talk to me. It’s a ridiculous habit. It’s one I can’t overcome. As I looked at this little clump of stumps, there seemed to be a tear on each one, and I said, “What’s the matter, currant bush? What are you crying about?”

And I thought I heard that currant bush speak. It seemed to say, “How could you do this to me? I was making such wonderful growth. I was almost as large as the fruit tree and the shade tree, and now you have cut me down. And all in the garden will look upon me with contempt and pity. How could you do it? I thought you were the gardener here.”

I thought I heard that from the currant bush. I thought it so much that I answered it.

I said, “Look, little currant bush, I am the gardener here, and I know what I want you to be. If I let you go the way you want to go, you will never amount to anything. But someday, when you are laden with fruit, you are going to think back and say, ‘Thank you, Mr. Gardener, for cutting me down, for loving me enough to hurt me.’”

Ten years passed, and I found myself in Europe. I had made some progress in the First World War in the Canadian army. In fact, I was a field officer, and there was only one man between me and the rank of general, which I had cherished in my heart for years. Then he became a casualty. And the day after, I received a telegram from London from General Turner, who was in charge of all Canadian officers. The telegram said, “Be in my office tomorrow morning at ten o’clock.”

I puffed up. I called my special servant. (We called them “batmen” over there.) I said, “Polish my boots and my buttons. Make me look like a general, because I am going up tomorrow to be appointed.”

He did the best he could with what he had to work on, and I went to London. I walked into the office of the general. I saluted him smartly, and he replied to my salute as higher officers usually do to juniors—sort of a “Get out of the way, worm.” Then he said, “Sit down, Brown.”

I was deflated. I sat down. And he said, “Brown, you are entitled to this promotion, but I cannot make it. You have qualified and passed the regulations, you have had the experience, and you are entitled to it in every way, but I cannot make this appointment.”

Just then he went into the other room to answer a phone call, and I did what most every officer and man in the army would do under those circumstances: I looked over on his desk to see what my personal history sheet showed. And I saw written on the bottom of that history sheet in large capital letters: “THIS MAN IS A MORMON.”

Now at that time we were hated heartily in Britain, and I knew why he couldn’t make the appointment. Finally he came back and said, “That’s all, Brown.”

I saluted him, less heartily than before, and went out. On my way back to Shorncliffe, 120 kilometers away, I thought every turn of the wheels that clacked across the rails was saying, “You’re a failure. You must go home and be called a coward by those who do not understand.”

And bitterness rose in my heart until I arrived, finally, in my tent, and I rather vigorously threw my cap on the cot, together with my Sam Browne belt. I clenched my fist, and I shook it at heaven, and I said, “How could you do this to me, God? I’ve done everything that I knew how to do to uphold the standards of the Church. I was making such wonderful growth, and now you’ve cut me down. How could you do it?”

And then I heard a voice. It sounded like my own voice, and the voice said, “I am the gardener here. I know what I want you to be. If I let you go the way you want to go, you will never amount to anything. And someday, when you are ripened in life, you are going to shout back across the time and say, ‘Thank you, Mr. Gardener, for cutting me down, for loving me enough to hurt me.’”

Those words—which I recognize now as my words to the currant bush and that had become God’s word to me—drove me to my knees, where I prayed for forgiveness for my arrogance and my ambition.

As I was praying there, I heard some Mormon boys in an adjoining tent singing the closing number to an M.I.A. session, which I usually attended with them. And I recognized these words, which all of you have memorized:

It may not be on the mountain height
Or over the stormy sea;
It may not be at the battle’s front
My Lord will have need of me;
But if, by a still, small voice he calls
To paths that I do not know,
I’ll answer, dear Lord, with my hand in thine:
I’ll go where you want me to go.
. . .
So trusting my all to thy tender care,
And knowing thou lovest me,
I’ll do thy will with a heart sincere;
I’ll be what you want me to be.
[“It May Not Be on the Mountain Height,” Hymns,1948, no. 75]

My young friends and brothers and sisters, will you remember that little experience that changed my whole life? Had the Gardener not taken control and done for me what was best for me, or if I had gone the way I wanted to go, I would have returned to Canada as a senior commanding officer of western Canada. I would have raised my family in a barracks. My six daughters would have had little chance to marry in the Church. I myself would probably have gone down and down. I do not know what might have happened, but this I know, and this I say to you and to Him in your presence, looking back over sixty years: “Thank you, Mr. Gardener, for cutting me down.”

--Hugh B Brown, "God Is the Gardener"

Joy

Most of you reading this blog know that I'm a Mormon, or member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, as we call ourselves. (Yes! We really are Christians! Right there in the name of our church.) ;-)

One of the unique things about our Sunday meetings is that we have a "lay ministry," or no professionals at all--everyone in a leadership position is a volunteer. And since we have no professional pastor or minister, everyone who speaks or teaches in our Sunday meetings is also a volunteer! A few weeks ago, I was asked to speak on the topic of joy during our main Sunday meeting. Today happened to be our Christmas program (since many of the people in our congregation are graduate students and won't be here on Christmas, we do it a few weeks early).

So during today's meeting, after the sacrament was blessed and passed, our ward choir (again, all volunteers) sang "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel." Then an older sister in our congregation gave a beautiful talk on coming to Christ, then the choir sang, "Oh Come, All Ye Faithful." And then I spoke, and then the choir and congregation together sang "Joy to the World" and the meeting ended and we went off to the next couple hours of church with individual classes for children, youth, and adults. (If you want to attend a meeting, come with me if you live locally--yay!!--or you can search for a local congregation using this website).

But anyway--this is the message I prepared and shared today.
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Good morning, brothers and sisters. I was asked to speak on joy today. I’d like to begin by giving you a bit of background on our family to contextualize some of my remarks. My husband, Neil, and I have been in school throughout the entirety of the fourteen years we’ve been married. We met at BYU just after he returned from his mission; he was a new freshman and I was a sophomore.  Our daughter Abigail was born at the end of my first year of graduate school; we have added five more children to our family while Neil has been pursuing a Ph.D. During this time, I have also taught concurrently at Purdue to support his studies. It has been a long road with many challenges.  At times, joy has been in short supply. In Psalms, we read that “weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.” I have had many nights—and mornings—of weeping, but joy does come.

Elder Oaks teaches us that “joy is more than happiness. Joy is the ultimate sensation of well-being. It comes from being complete and in harmony with our Creator and his eternal laws.”

In my experience, joy is both something for which we must actively work and is the goal of our existence. As we learn in 2 Nephi when reading about the experience of Adam and Eve in the garden, Men—and women--are that they might have joy, but our knowledge of how exquisite this joy is is itself based upon the contrast with misery. This is something we see through Alma the Younger’s experience, when he remarks “there could be nothing so exquisite and so bitter as were my pains. Yea, and again I say unto you, there can be nothing so exquisite and sweet as was my joy.”

Elder Richard G. Scott teaches that “I do not minimize how hard some of these events are. They can extend over a long period of time, but they should not be allowed to become the confining center of everything you do. The Lord’s intent is that each of us finds joy, as [we] obey the commandments, have faith in the Master, and do the things that are necessary to have joy here on earth.”

This, then, begs the question—what do we do to have joy here on earth?

Our leaders teach that there are 3 levels of joy—the first is appreciating the simple beauties in life, and is akin to the way children view the world. Elder Oaks remarks, “When I think of happiness or joy in this life, I begin with some experiences that are simple and basic. I remember a two-year-old immersed in a soft ice cream cone. I think of a child loving a puppy or a kitten. The more mature can also experience joy in what is simple and basic—in flowers and other growing things, in a sunrise or sunset or other beauties of nature, in wholesome companionship.”

We can first find joy through appreciating the small but wonderful things in our lives. The second level of joy is actively seeking out ways to experience joyful moments in our lives.

In my own life, I have dealt with the specter of severe and debilitating depression. It has been a real effort for me to find joy in my life, and I have found that it is something that I have had to work very consciously to achieve. What I have learned, more than anything, is that joy does not always come on its own. I cannot sit back and wait for bliss to wash over me. I have to construct my life so that joyful moments are possible, likely, and frequent. Joy takes work. One thing we have done in our family is actually sitting down and making a list every season of the things we want to do together as a family. Doing this allows us to have time together where we actually enjoy being together, giving us the opportunity to feel that fleeting but incandescent joy in those idealized moments that do not come naturally in days that are otherwise packed with laundry, homework, and all the minutiae of daily life.

Additionally, Elder Scott specifically mentions being creative as a way to bring more joy into our lives: “Select something like music, dance, sculpture, or poetry. Being creative will help you enjoy life. It engenders a spirit of gratitude. It develops latent talent, sharpens your capacity to reason, to act, and to find purpose in life. It dispels loneliness and heartache. It gives a renewal, a spark of enthusiasm, and zest for life.”

Elder Oaks teaches: “Another source of happiness and mortal joy is the accomplishment of worthy goals, simple things like physical exercise or more complex goals like the completion of an arduous task.” I couldn’t agree more with this—I am an ardent runner for two reasons. One, in a more temporal sphere, is the feeling of joy and satisfaction I feel when I cross the finish line of a major goal race. Two, running alone is the time when I feel most connected to the Savior. It provides me the time and physical space away from the needs of my family and daily life to pray and listen for hours on end.

This brings me to the third way we find joy in mortality, which is of lasting and eternal significance--the joy that comes from a unification with our Heavenly Father and Savior as we strive to draw closer to them.

At our most recent conference, Elder Nelson taught, “The joy we feel has little to do with the circumstances of our lives and everything to do with the focus of our lives.

When the focus of our lives is on God’s plan of salvation and Jesus Christ and His gospel, we can feel joy regardless of what is happening—or not happening—in our lives. Joy comes from and because of Him. He is the source of all joy. We feel it at Christmastime when we sing, “Joy to the world, the Lord is come.” And we can feel it all year round. For Latter-day Saints, Jesus Christ is joy!”

At Christmastime, we celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ, who has bourne our griefs and carried our sorrows, who experienced the most bitter pains ever known so that we might in turn experience the most exquisite joy ever known—our redemption from sin, the reunification of body with spirit after resurrection, and our ability to live with God in the eternities. Surely, as the Psalmist wrote, this is a joy of the morning.

The Savior’s peace passeth all understanding. So does the joy which he offers us. Elder Nelson asks, “If we focus on the joy that will come to us, or to those we love, what can we endure that presently seems overwhelming, painful, scary, unfair, or simply impossible? What repenting will then be possible? What weakness will become a strength? What chastening will become a blessing? What disappointments, even tragedies, will turn to our good? And what challenging service to the Lord will we be able to give? Joy is a gift for the faithful  It is the gift that comes from intentionally trying to live a righteous life, as taught by Jesus Christ. Every day that you and I choose to live celestial laws, every day that we keep our covenants and help others to do the same, joy will be ours.”

We can find joy in our lives through striving to appreciate the small good things, the beautiful moments, through working to create more of these moments in a myriad of ways, and through striving for a deepened relationship with our Savior and Redeemer. In closing, I would like to share my favorite verses from the Book of Mormon, where the king of the Lamanites asks Aaron how he can draw closer to the Lord, saying:

"What shall I do that I may have this eternal life of which thou hast spoken? Yea, what shall I do that I may be born of God, having this wicked spirit rooted out of my breast, and receive his Spirit, that I may be filled with joy, that I may not be cast off at the last day? Behold, said he, I will give up all that I possess, yea, I will forsake my kingdom, that I may receive this great joy."
And upon Aaron’s response that the king should repent and call upon the Lord, the king cries,

“O God, Aaron hath told me that there is a God; and if there is a God, and if thou art God, wilt thou make thyself known unto me, and I will give away all my sins to know thee, and that I may be raised from the dead, and be saved at the last day.”

As we, in turn, give away all our sins to know the Lord, as we strive to seek out joy in our daily lives, we can truly come to know him, to experience the peace which passeth understanding, to experience the fullness of joy that cometh in the morning with the Savior, and we will rejoice. May we at Christmastime and all year long strive to more fully appreciate the tremendous gifts which we have been given, and find joy in the journey back to our Father in Heaven. I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Sources:

Richard G. Scott: Finding Joy in Life (https://www.lds.org/general-conference/1996/04/finding-joy-in-life?lang=eng&_r=1)

Dallin H. Oaks: Joy and Mercy (https://www.lds.org/general-conference/1991/10/joy-and-mercy?lang=eng&_r=1)

Russell M. Nelson: Joy and Spiritual Survival (https://www.lds.org/general-conference/2016/10/joy-and-spiritual-survival?lang=eng&_r=1)

The Book of Mormon:
     2 Nephi 2: 25: https://www.lds.org/scriptures/bofm/2-ne/2.25?lang=eng
     Alma 22: https://www.lds.org/scriptures/bofm/alma/22.18?lang=eng

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Finding balance

The last two days have been very different.

Yesterday I was exhausted. I only slept about 3 hours (combination of a might-be-dying cat, a neighbor mowing his lawn at 6 am, and a little boy with nightmares). The day seemed hard before it even began. I got through the morning--I watched a friend's 3 kids as she was preparing to go on vacation with a new baby. I scrubbed a few floors and supervised kids vacuuming and folding laundry. I helped the girls with some new piano pieces and did my Thursday rest-day-from-running yoga routine. We read a million stories. We ate lunch and everyone pitched in to clean the kitchen. And then I pretty much collapsed. I was so tired. It seemed like every part of my body hurt. I cried six times at different ridiculous things (like Nathan scribbling on the kitchen floor with a crayon, which Isaac then cleaned up when he saw me melt into tears). We had takeout pizza for dinner and I felt like the worst mom in the world condemning my children to a terribly boring summer where all I wanted was for everyone to be asleep so that I didn't have to do anything.

Last night I got enough sleep. I woke up feeling refreshed and ready to tackle the day. Everyone did all their weekend cleaning jobs until the house sparkled. We went to the library, then met up with friends at a local gym for free play/open gym time. We came home, ate lunch, and I read piles and piles of books to the little boys. I ran 8 very speedy miles, then packed up the kids and went to a carnival hosted by our church congregation. We went to two different grocery stores on the way home. We ate a bedtime snack, cleaned up, had a brief bedtime phone call with Neil, and then I tucked everyone into bed and went off to do midterm grades.

Today I felt like a good mother.

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I remember that when I very first started parenting that I felt like there was this invisible ledger that I kept in my head with credit and debit columns for Good Mother and Bad Mother. Things like waking up before the kids, reading stories and going to the playground went on the Good Mother side. Things like letting them watch movies, sleeping in too late, and working while the kids are awake went on the Bad Mother side. I wish I could say that I've moved past this ledger, but I haven't. Every day with every action I'm actively ranking myself as to where I stand--yelling at that child is a mark on the debit side, explaining how wind moves over the wings of a plane to give it lift is a credit in the other column.

This summer has been hard because I'm exhausted all the time and I'm usually in pain. This pregnancy has been much better than my last three, but it's still pregnancy with all of its accompanying miseries, and I'm older and my body has done this five times already. I'm still trying to run my 30 miles every week because I know the downturn my mental health takes with each mile subtracted from my weekly total. I'm teaching this summer for the first time since 2007 when I was pregnant with Juliet and had only Abigail. And Nathan has given up his nap!

For years and years I have sat down a month before the children were out of school and mapped out every single day of the summer--what adventures we would go on, what topics we would study. I haven't done that this year, and it's been a huge source of stress. I've tried to tell myself over and over that it's okay, that my kids love the slow-paced days full of Legos and baking and endless popsicles and afternoons at the pool--and they do!!--but I still struggle so much with the guilt of not being perpetually present, engaging, upbeat, and energetic. And at the same time, I know that I simply don't have it in me right now to parent the way I have in past summers.

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On the 4th of July I ran 7 miles, prepared a gigantic BBQ spread for my family, gave both of the girls piano lessons, graded an entire class's worth of midterm projects, read to the boys for an hour, cleaned my house, and spent hours lighting & watching fireworks with the children. I can't remember the last time that I was that tired.

The children were radiant. It was, they told me, the best day of their lives.

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I read this article earlier this week. Then I read it again, and then again and then a fourth time. Then I read parts of it out loud to Neil. I didn't want to post it on my Facebook wall because it felt so raw and real to me, and I didn't know how to unpack everything that it meant to me into just a few sentences. I have thought about this part over and over and over:

"I have tried to say it to my husband; I have tried to say, “I hate my life.” I have tried to say, “I need help.” I have tried to explain why I am finding being a mother so difficult, but in the face of his questions, my explanations collapse. It isn’t exactly that spending time with the children is so horrible. I mean, sometimes it is, sometimes we have a bad day, but most of the time it is relatively pleasant: we go to the store, we go to the park, everyone is well behaved, the three-year-old says something cute, the baby does something new. The problem is not in what I am doing. The problem is in what I am not doing, which is writing every day, but which is also leading a life of the mind."

Sometimes I think a lot about what my life would be like if I had made different choices. I've thought a lot about that the past two years. I don't feel like I have much control over my life these days; I'm primarily reacting to other people's decisions and actions and the situations in which they place me. That's not a place that I'm comfortable living in. It's very difficult for me to not be the master of my fate/captain of my soul. I don't like feeling powerless.

But when I think about an alternative life, I don't know that it would necessarily bring me more joy either. I have several friends who have made very, very, very drastic life changes lately--the kind of changes I've thought about. I don't envy them their new freedoms when I see what those choices actually look like; instead, I feel overwhelmingly grateful for my current life.

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I ran into a friend today. We exchanged pleasantries and I asked how her summer was going. She told me how fit I looked and expressed her admiration for all of the things I do.

"I spent most of the day crying in bed yesterday, " I told her.

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I had a long talk this week with another friend whose husband is very ill. They just celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary. She told me countless stories about their life together and the children that they've raised.

"My former coworkers were so surprised years later when they saw me pregnant with my sixth," she confided to me. "They all told me they never thought I'd have any children because I loved my job so much and I was so good at it. But I knew that being a mother was best. And that's what I told them. And that's what I see in you--I've watched you grow up as a mother and a woman from the day I first saw you with that tiny little blond baby and you've grown more beautiful every year and with every child."

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Some nights I fall asleep reading.

Some nights I lie awake worrying for hours. Hours and hours and hours until I finally get up at 3 am and walk around my house and obsessively check the locks on all the doors like I've done for years. I worry about whether Neil will ever graduate. I worry about whether this baby's birth will send me into another depressive spiral. I worry about whether I'm too old to ever meet my athletic goals--will I be able to qualify for Boston? Run a 100-mile race? Has my body taken too much of a beating from years of pregnancy, breastfeeding, and toting around heavy toddlers on my hip, shortening my obliques, damaging my knee, leaching calcium from my bones? Should I sign up for the evening oil painting class Neil's been encouraging me to take, or is that selfish to take precious hours away from his research? Where will we be next year? Am I truly giving the best that I can to my children and my marriage? Why did I give away all my baby clothes?

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I don't know how to end this post. I don't have any wonderful answers or relevations or tie-it-up-nicely anecdotes. What I can tell you is that my children are asleep, my husband is at work, I haven't eaten dinner yet, and it's time to do my grading.

Playing catch-up...again!

I've spent most of today trying to do things that I can control to make up for things that I can't control that are driving me crazy (translation: we've had some unhappy news about Neil's work and I've spent too much time crying). So now that my course sites are prepped and ready for fall, and I ran my 8 miles for today and the house is clean and the laundry is folded and the 'fridge is stocked--and all the sick kids are finally asleep--I'm turning to blogging catch-up to keep my worries at bay. And to not think about the fact that we were supposed to leave for Utah today. :-(

Also--I am really terrible at remembering to bring my camera/put the battery in the camera this summer. So many missed photo ops (Conner Prairie, I'm looking at you!).

For the record, we spent a really amazing day at Conner Prairie--a living history museum that replicates life on the prairie in the 1830s--a few weeks ago. One of my favorite highlights was watching the girls play (by invitation from one of the actors) on the 200-year-old piano that sits in one of the homes of the "wealthy citizens" in town. Another highlight: playing stick and hoop with the kids, walking around on stilts, watching their delight as they pumped water for a vegetable garden and hauled heavy boxes from a Conestoga to the storekeeper's back room (he paid them with lengths of ribbon and oh my heavens, it was the most exciting thing ever!).

Conner Prairie is a fun place. We love it!

We made blueberry jam and cherry jam one afternoon. Abigail had a playdate, but Isaac, Jules, and Luke worked their little hearts out pitting cherries and stirring jam.

The girls and I took a little road trip to spend a weekend with my sister, who just moved to Chicago. We sat in traffic for a looong time. Enough to take selfies.



But if you have to sit in traffic somewhere, Lakeshore Drive is a pretty darn scenic place to do it!

We had an amazing weekend with her--she took us out for sushi & curry the first night we arrived and we got to walk all over her cute neighborhood (she lives in my favorite part of Chicago--Lincoln Park!). Abigail wowed us all with her love of sushi and I even tried my first legit raw-fish sushi (so, so, so good! Nice to not be pregnant or nursing!). Then we went to a bookstore and Mary Beth told the girls they could each pick out a book--they were in heaven! And then we stopped by a bakery for some sweet treats and then home to bed.



The next morning I got up and had a gorgeous but super hot 10-mile run along the lake--I was SO glad I'd done my long run earlier in the week so I was done early! Then we took the L to the Field Museum (taking the L was probably the most exciting thing that had ever happened in Abigail's life and the most terrifying in Juliet's), and wandered around happily for a few hours.



We found a honey badger that reminded us of Nathan ("honey badger just does what he wants!").

The girls (sort of) humored me by posing in front of the triceratops where I make them pose every time we visit the Field. 

 Jules was feeling pretty crummy by this point (poor kid spent today throwing up with a fever) but she was such a good sport.

After a few hours the girls were really tired, so we meandered out of the museum, stopped for some delicious ice-cream goodies from a vendor on the museum steps, and caught the water taxi back to Navy Pier. We sat down and the heavens opened in a fine example of a Midwest thunderstorm and drenched us all! By the time we made it back to the bus that would take us from the pier to the L we were so sodden it was comical.

But oh, that gorgeous gorgeous skyline! Totally worth getting soaked.



We were all tired and footsore and cold, so we stopped off at Whole Foods on our walk back to her apartment and picked up some goodies for dinner. Predictably, we picked up what Neil refers to as
"[My maiden name] Vacation Special" because salami, bread, and cheese were pretty much the given choices for any meal we ate on vacation as kids. (We also added a spinach salad with smoked Gouda, apples, and bacon, fresh strawberries, a dry-aged salami, chipotle cheddar cheese, more Gouda, and a couple bread options. I kind of love eating with my family!)

And I'm wishing I had better pictures of my sister's apartment because it is gorgeous!! But I left my camera battery plugged into the charger, so every photo of the weekend is from her iPhone and taken at my behest (which probably got really annoying...thanks for putting up with me!!). :-)

Backtracking a bit--we made 4th of July fireworks shirts. So fun!

And got really really really dirty setting off a gazillion fireworks. My dad came down to visit us for the weekend (my mom is out in Utah right now helping out with two new babies! So exciting!) and because he's my dad and he's awesome he bought a ton of fireworks, all of which we set off on the 3rd because he had to go back home before the night of the 4th.

But the kids loved them so much that back they went to the fireworks store the next day and got more. :-)


We had such a great time with my dad--he is always so fun! He drove down really early Friday morning--I was actually still out running (and pepper-spraying myself in the face but that's another story). So when I got back he & Neil had the kids all loaded up on bikes and were headed out for an adventure! Neil went to work and then we spent the day hanging out and having fun, then when Neil got home we started the fireworks party, which lasted until about 10:30 or so. Then the next day we went hiking, bought more fireworks, had more fun party, etc. until Dad left and we went down to campus to watch & wait for the big fireworks (which were spectacular as always), then back home for our neighborhood fireworks (which were surprisingly spectacular as always), then tried to sleep through the booming. Ah, perks of living in a state without fireworks laws...

And guess who is now six! This really deserves its own post, so hopefully that will happen but maybe not.

The night before Isaac's birthday, Neil took Isaac and Luke to one of those places filled with inflatables. They had a pretty good time (except Luke was scared of anyone smaller than him and would hide from younger kids. Poor Luke; Nathan is not an easy person to live with!). 

As always, we celebrated his birthday with a crepe-a-palooza for dinner. Happy Bastille Day! Yum yum yum!



And after the crepes, the lemon meringue pie! (He was much more excited than he looks in this photo post-candles.)

Every single gift my little Isaac received was engineering-based. He has all kinds of fun making his own radio (he was SO THRILLED that he could listen to "All Things Considered"; that kid is a total NPR fanatic), launching fans, making all kinds of horribly loud fire-engine/spaceship/bomb noises, building all kinds of remote-controlled vehicles that he then zooms around the house, building and firing miniature catapults, etc. Total heaven for my builder son!




Other notables:

We got rid of our high chair! Yippeeeeeee!

Funny kids spent an afternoon kowtowing to King Tot ("get it, Mom? Like King Tut, but it's King TOT!").

I finally had a chance to get fabric for Nathan's quilt and had it on his bed less than 48 hours later; he was so thrilled and kept taking us by the hand to lead us in and show off his "reeree pretty quilt!"

Lots of yoga going on over here. One day the kids all got obsessed with the same pose (Wheel) and were doing it all.over.the.house. Like it was impossible not to trip over someone who was staring up at you from the floor. 

Funny Luke borrowed my sunglasses one day and then fell asleep. 

We tried our hand at making spring rolls for dinner one night--they were a huge hit! The kids loved them and this is reminding me that we should make them for lunch one of these days.

We're following a pretty consistent pattern here--three weeks sick, three weeks off, then sick again. I am so not a fan. Poor kiddos...it has not been much of a summer between all of the fevers and the throwing up and the rain...the never-ending, NEVER-ENDING constant rain that has completely slaughtered all of the baby plants in our garden. July 22 and we still have not even been to the pool this year--it's just been too cold and wet (it finally warmed up this week but we are home-bound again with the fever/vomiting/rash goodness). 

This photo is so old, but I made a really fun dinner for Father's Day! It was Moroccan-themed and we had kebabs, fresh pita, fattoush, couscous, green chile relish, red-bean hummus, and tzatziki. Just looking at this photo makes me hungry!

And speaking of photos that make me hungry, I'll live you with this one. My raspberry plant was so good to me this spring (before the rain ruined all the berries).

Staycation 2014, or "let's make the best of things"

As I mentioned in my last post, we decided to take advantage of the fact that Neil took a few days off work & have an impromptu staycation (aka if we all stay in the house we'll go crazy & I am always much much happier when we are making fun memories rather than folding laundry and the like). 

So...we made a big list of things that we wanted to do and tried to cross off as many as we could. Most days we tried to time it so that I could have a couple of hours to rest in the afternoon, since I seemed to be okay for the morning and then abruptly crash about 2 pm with crazy nausea and vertigo. And we also tried to be outside as much as we could since that was another thing that really helped me to feel better (noise in an enclosed space was the worst! instant headaches and extreme nausea). And lots lots lots of physical exercise since that is my #1 way of self-medicating.
We kicked things off by making everyone furiously mad! Wednesday evening I really wanted to go for a walk in the woods, but I also wanted to go for a run. I suggested that we could go get ice cream (thanks again, summer reading program!) and that Neil could drive the kids to the park & I would meet them there, we'd grab ice cream, and then we'd go hit the woods. Except I was still feeling sort of vague/confused and never actually nailed this plan down with Neil, so we didn't have the ice cream coupons. I ran 4 miles to meet them and arrived feeling SO great (mostly because I caught up with and passed the high school men's cross-country team, which may have been one of the greatest moments of my adult life) and the kids were furious because nobody could find the ice cream coupons, and so we literally dragged the girls screaming into the woods (Jules tried to make a run for it and I chased after her and wound up with poison ivy all over my leg for the first time in decades!). Anyway, long story short, everybody cheered up within about five minutes and we had a lovely walk until we realized the mosquitoes were feasting happily, which is why everyone has awful mosquito bites in all the rest of the pictures.


On Thursday we started crossing off our list items. First thing: donuts. Lotsa lotsa donuts. And then the zoo! And then the train at the zoo! (And then home to collapse and I slept most of the rest of the day).

On Friday we headed south to a state park and hiked--it was absolutely glorious weather and so incredibly beautiful and cool and breezy. A bit too breezy, in fact, for Luke, who jumped into the river, completely soaked his little shorts, and ended up running through the woods in his undies the rest of the day (we hung his shorts to dry on the backpack, but...they were still sopping when we got in the car). It was an amazingly wonderful perfect day and I was so happy all day long.

not us swimming...all kinds of "stay-out-of-the-water" signs posted and my kids were pretty mad that I made them obey!

 We did this same hike back in May when we camped here, but this time we remembered to bring a camera AND we packed water sandals for everyone in addition to hiking shoes! (We probably spent half an hour every time we changed all our shoes, but oh well...)

I forgot to get a photo with the kids until we'd been hiking for six hours and we were almost back at the car...they did NOT want to pose! It reminded me of the photos of my family near Stonehenge...my sisters & I all look so miserable and furious at those parents who forced us to come to Europe--lots of folded arms and pouting and one kid (Elise maybe?) who isn't even in the pictures because she just flat-out refused and took off running through some crop circles or something like that (my poor parents--we were so awful on that trip! I remember at one point telling 7-year-old Rosalind that the fly paper hanging from the ceiling was the light pull and laughing when she got stuck to the nasty paper coated in flies. Yeah, I was 17). 

 The next day we went to our favorite Indian restaurant for lunch, stopped by our local children's museum (we were the only ones there! Sweet!) and the kids introduced Neil to the glories of the hurricane simulator (I stayed outside since I was already pretty queasy). We also swung by the fabric store and I got some really gorgeous yarn to knit a pouf ottoman--knitting is really soothing to me and I haven't done much of it lately. 

 Then I slept most of the afternoon and when I woke up we went on an 8-mile bike ride to get blizzards at Dairy Queen. I was so proud of the kids--it was NOT an easy ride (one of the biggest hills in our city is a good 2 miles of the ride!) and they were amazing!! We stopped at the playground afterwards. So fun and I really loved biking along in the twilight with the kiddos on our way back. 

Sunday was a hard day since we were inside for most of the day. I ended up having to leave church early because I was so sick--I spent most of the day in bed and Neil was Superman and made an awesome dinner and took care of everything with the kids.

Monday was the vacation-is-winding-down day...we spent the morning at the pediatrician's office doing physicals & vaccinations for three of the kids (although we have the world's best pediatrician so it's always fun to catch up with her--soooo different from the pediatricians we had in Utah/Michigan!). More resting in the afternoon and then we finally finally finally for the first time this summer went swimming--no photos, but it was absolutely wonderful. We hit the water park pretty late in the day and so most people left about an hour after we got there, and then we had a good two hours where it was practically empty (Abigail rode the water slides upwards of 40 times...there was no line and we just floated around on the lazy river watching her! Jules, Neil, and I rode the slides too but we didn't have quite Abigail's enthusiasm.

All in all it was a really delightful little break from our real lives and such a nice way to ease what could have been an incredibly difficult weekend. (And we even got an extension on our staycation when I had to call Neil to come home from work the next day & take Isaac back to the pediatrician with a crazy reaction to one of his vaccinations! Fortunately steroids and antibiotics restored him after 48 hours).

And I'm kind of in love with this photo...it makes me realize how much our family has grown since we did the same thing on the Brickyard!