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"

Stages

Nathan is almost fourteen months old. Fourteen. That is a lot of months, and they have been some of the most difficult of my life. Not just because of Nathan (although he has definitely made things more challenging--he still throws up at least once most days and who knows how long it will be until we can go a day without calculating his caloric intake!), but this year has been a really hard one. I feel like in some ways it's been an amazing year--I ran a marathon!!--and in others it's been horrible--I've been eating lots when I'm sad!!

I think a lot about whether Nathan is our last baby. Neil and I have always planned on having six children, but post-Nathan we've been rethinking that. We've both prayed about whether our family is complete, and we've both felt that it is not yet time to make that decision--but I still can't stop thinking about it, partially because I also feel that if he IS our last, I really want to be soaking it up--I want to know that this is the last time I will ever be pregnant, or have a crawling baby, or a nursing baby, etc. I feel like it will make that transition easier for me. Babies are so delightful that it will be really hard to close that chapter of my life (and a bit terrifying to think that in four years I might not have any children at home during the day).

Nathan is walking now (and climbing up the slide to get into the princess castle, which just about gave me a heart attack the first time I saw him do it) and his babbling is full of recognizable words--we've gone from Mama and Daddy to Mommy and Daddy, Baabaa (Abigail), baby, yay, kitty, whee, etc. It's bittersweet to see how fast he is growing and developing and to know that I might be done with this baby stage.

Neil and I will often make lists of things that we won't miss to comfort ourselves a bit when we're talking about this--things like no more diaper blowouts, no more waking up every 2 hours for feedings, no more childbirth pains, no more crazy pregnancy medical dramas, only one more round of potty-training, no more morning naps, etc. But there are so many things that I will miss--cuddling a tiny infant in the night when only the two of us are awake, that sweet baby smell and those tiny hands wrapping around my fingers, chunky little baby thighs and pudgy hands (especially since Nathan is so skinny!), tiny frilly dresses and miniature bow ties, and the delight of having someone who is so overwhelmed with joy by my mere presence. Babies are so easy, so undemanding--I know how to do babies. Their physical needs are immediate and intense, but easily satisfied. As my children get older I am realizing how complex and emotionally fraught their lives are, and I am stumbling through along with them as we navigate each new stage and its heartbreaks and triumphs. Abigail often remarks that I am her guinea pig--and sadly it is so true! Fortunately she is patient and forgiving as I figure out how to do this.

One of the things that I dread most about my children growing up is the point at which they will no longer be interested in snuggling up for a story. I am so, so, so thankful for the fact that when I begin reading aloud to the younger children, the older ones will inevitably drift over and end up with their heads on my shoulder. This summer has been wonderful for that thus far--we read picture books in the morning and chapter books once Nathan is down for his nap. My favorite times of day.

Lucky us!!

When we bought our home, I didn't really look much at the school district, since I figured we'd be gone before our children started school (hah!).  I sort of vaguely knew that it was supposed to be good, but I was only thinking about it in terms of resale value.

Fast forward a few years and my children's elementary school is suddenly SO important in our lives! Fortunately, we have an amazing amazing amazing school with fabulous teachers (it's even a federally recognized Blue Ribbon School).  I cannot even tell you how much I love our elementary school, and how grateful I am for the wonderful teachers who have been so influential in my children's lives.  (Seriously. They are out of this world.)  Did I mention that I love their teachers?

And incidentally, one of the (many) cool things about our school is that it has 2 courtyards that the students regularly use (Abigail's first-grade class often had writer's workshop time out by the lily pond).  The photos in this post are all taken in the outdoor classroom.

The school that my older two children currently attend (Isaac's preschool is equally amazing and I love his teachers dearly, who also taught Juliet, but that's another post) is a really cool melting pot.  Last time I checked, it had students from 45 countries, many of whom are here for a few years while their parents complete graduate degrees.  There are 1060 students in the elementary school (it's the biggest in the district, if I recall correctly), and about 50% of them are in families whose income falls below the federal poverty level (hello, graduate students!).  One thing that's pretty neat is that a lot of the students are either the children of professors or graduate students, so education is a top priority for many of the parents (sadly, that's not always the case, but I've been really impressed by so many of the parents that I've met & worked with in the classrooms).  And they have a fabulous principal--he knows all of the kids by name and enthusiastically greets me by name as well (probably because I have a horrible habit of jamming the copiers so he knows to watch out for me).  Both of my children's classes had lunch with the principal & the vice-principal in the past two weeks, and many times when I've been working in my children's classrooms or attending a classroom event, one or both of the principals is there.  And of course, I am still so amazed and grateful that the school has dedicated high-ability classes that both push the kiddos and make learning fantastically fun (i.e. for their economics unit they've been helping to run the school book fair).



Abigail's class has been studying the moon for the past month or so--she's been keeping a journal every night where she draws & describes the position and appearance of the moon.  One of the atmospheric science professors from the university came in to talk to the class (his son is in her class) about the moon as well, and they wound up the unit with a moon-viewing party for students & families.  (Okay, I don't know about you, but my elementary school experience was not like this at all.  Did I mention that today Juliet attended a play at the university for a class field trip?)

They had a half or dozen or so telescopes set up and focused on the moon--you could just wander up and check it out whenever you felt like it.  It was really neat to use the various telescopes to see particular features.  I seriously loved it!  (Abigail, Isaac, and I were the only ones who went; we didn't stay super long because we wanted to get back to visit with Neil's parents, who were briefly stopping by on their way to begin their second full-time church mission.)

And since all fun parties have fun treats, the teachers had kept going with the moon theme--there were Moon Pies, Milky Ways, and--such a great idea--a whole bunch of sugar cookies that the students had coated with various amounts of frosting to represent the phases of the moon.  

As we were driving home Abigail told me that she will miss her school most of all once we graduate, and I had to agree whole-heartedly.  We have been so, so, so blessed in our time here, and I am and will be eternally grateful to the amazing opportunities and teachers my children have had thus far.

(And this really has nothing to do with the post at all, but I was thinking today about how mature Abigail's getting these days--she made a batch of lemon bars all by herself after school--and tonight I wore a pink velvet blazer that I would never have dared to buy on my own, but she was with me and talked me into it, and then told me several times how much she liked it tonight. So fun to be with this kiddo!)

lots of photo catch-up

 I'm sitting here waiting for my students to finish posting their huge research paper drafts so that I can respond to them, and I've responded to everything posted, so...waiting.  And Neil is at work, so I am lonely and bored, but since my mom mailed my camera (what a wonderful lady!) super fast, I have pictures to upload and blogging to do.

First of all, I am sitting here grading instead of going to bed because I'm afraid of the morrow.  Neil's birthday was last week, and we were away for Thanksgiving, so it was a little rushed, you know?  So one of his friends so kindly offered to put together a morning of target shooting tomorrow, and I'm excited for him to have some fun that's all about him (except the kids and I are all nice and sick, and I don't want to have to respond to papers when I am foggy and the kids are crying, so...staying up now to do it instead).  And Neil is at work on a Friday night (which he generally takes off) because I was a total wreck this morning and he stayed home until lunchtime so that I could go back to bed and sleep off some of the fever hallucinations.  Then he left for work after I stopped falling over things and convinced him to give me the treadmill key back after promising I wouldn't do anything stupid (because who doesn't like to run when they're feverish?  Actually, I felt about 100x better after I pounded out my graceless four miles.  I wouldn't have trusted myself to run in a straight line outside, but the treadmill and I were good friends today). Then he went to the grocery store after work and came home early and made dinner.  He is so awesome.

This is the current collection of antibiotics--any bets on how big it will get later in the week when Neil and I finally break down and go in to the doctor? (Sadly, my dear husband grabbed the wrong kind of Mucinex so I can only stare at it longingly and remember the days when I was neither pregnant nor nursing and I could swallow whatever decongestants I liked.)

 Right before Thanksgiving, Juliet's class did a cute little play:

and we went to watch it.  Isaac is really picky about his hair, and Jules kept trying to put her hat on him, and he would not allow it because he didn't want his "porky-pine hair" to get smashed.

Since I had my camera, when I went to pick Abigail up post-play I snapped a few pictures of some of her schoolwork hanging up in the hallway.  This is the report she did on the Empire State Building; she told me the addition of the birds around the top was her idea.  :-)



On an Abigail note, the two of us went on a mommy-daughter date tonight, and she casually mentioned something that just about broke my heart--she was telling me about her group for the current project, and how so-and-so in her group is one of the most popular kids in class because he's so good at sports.  So we were talking about what makes people popular, and how people often have different roles in the class (she'd started talking about who was the funniest, who was the nicest, etc.) and when I asked her what she was in her class, she said, "Mom, I'm like mist.  Nobody even notices that I'm there."

What do you say to that?  I didn't know.  I don't even remember what I said--something about how did she feel about that, and did she still play with so-and-so.  I think it bothered me a lot more than it bothered her, but...it's really bothering me.  A lot.  And it bothers me that she feels invisible in her classroom all day, and then she gets home and it's kind of a crazy land with parents who are saying, do your homework, it's time for dinner, practice piano, get ready for bed, why didn't you put your coat away when I asked you the first three times, etc.  I feel like I am SO far from being a perfect, patient, loving mother, and it is so hard for me to make those moments in the limited time that I have with Abigail.  It's much easier with the boys and Juliet, because they are home so much more during the day, but Abigail is only home for a few hours and there is SO much that has to happen in those hours.  This is something that has been really hard for me ever since she started full-day school last year (and is a large part of why I fought to be able to only send Jules to half-day kindergarten) and I just don't know how to do it.  I want my children to know that they are loved and cherished, and I worry that I don't know how to convey that properly.  I love them, and I want them to grow into wonderful, responsible adults, and that's why I remind them to do their homework and to clean up after themselves and to use good manners, but...that's not really something you can perceive as a child, you know?  And it is SO hard to create the time where we are just snuggling and talking, but I am resolving to make that a daily priority with Abigail, because she has always been in need of that, and we haven't transitioned that very well as she's been gone from home the majority of the time.

 On to a less weighty topic--this is what our lawn looked like the other day when it was time for the girls to leave.  School ended up being cancelled because of the heavy fog, which is good, because who wants to walk through this to get to school?

 Luke likes to lick ice cream!

 Over Thanksgiving we visited my parents and were able to meet my youngest sister Rosalind's fiance Chris.  (Isaac adores him beyond all reason.)  Sadly, I didn't snap any pics of them when they were all fancied up for their open house, but I did get this one after dinner.

And then since I had my camera out...

 So happy to be photographed.

 On the other side of the table...

 And at the head/foot/whatever of the table perched Sir Isaac and his dish of ice cream, which was about all he deigned to eat that meal (actually, I exaggerate.  He ate the croutons from the salad, then mixed cranberry sauce with peach jam and ate that delicious slosh).

 Later that night (I think this may have been Thanksgiving) the kids convinced my dad to build a fire in the backyard and then they all went wild playing in this HUGE mound of leaves--the neighbors hadn't raked any of theirs, so, surprise!  Dad raked up a giant pile and the kids took turns jumping off a retaining wall.  I have the most wonderful video (which is not wanting to upload) of Luke stepping out confidently from the wall and then dropping WHAM down into the leaves--I don't think he knew it wasn't solid ground.

 Isaac hiding...they were all so begrimed when they came out!

 

Oh, and right before Thanksgiving, I had a lot of my hair cut off (the picture isn't rotating and I'm not really in the mood to fix it).  So it went from very long to...shorter.

I sort of feel like I should be done with this pregnancy already.  But I'm not even close.

I found this on the counter the other day--Juliet told me she was packing up for quiet time.  Love that kid.

And last but not least, my little Luke, who is convinced that he is seven years old and should do everything like the big kids do it.

Seems like it's time for a post

I left my camera at my parents' house over Thanksgiving, so while I have a lot of photos to upload, there will be none today (sadly, this also means I have not photographed exciting happenings around our home like decorating the Christmas tree, etc.  But it also means that there is no photographic evidence of the fact that I was SO worn out today after the third day home with my miserable sick little boys--they both have croup--that I decided my angelic-looking Luke needed a warning label, so I wrote "El Diablo" across his forehead in marker, and then I gave him a little evil-looking mustache [except I had to make the mustache kind of odd-looking to avoid his dripping nose].  My poor babies.  I hope those antibiotics kick in really, really, really soon.  Isaac is a sweet, docile, snuggly little sick man, but Luke is not!).

Anyway, life goes on.  I am constantly amazed at how slow the mornings are (when the boys both are content to sit in my lap and listen to stories for hours), and how hectic the afternoons and evenings are when we're racing to get everyone's homework done, piano practice in, clean up dinner, pack lunches for the next day, run kiddos through the shower, etc.  I spent probably three hours working on homework with the girls today and then Neil and I both split up after dinner/baths and each took a girl and finished up the homework time.  I can't even imagine how we will do it with older kids, but then again, I'm sure we'll adapt like we've done with each successive year.  Not a very original musing, but that's what I happen to be thinking about today.  I'm so grateful for the amazing teachers that both of my girls have this year--Abigail is just thriving in school this year beyond all of my wildest dreams and expectations, and I feel like we are so, so, so blessed to have the opportunity to have her in the high ability classroom (worth another year in grad school?  I would say so.  Honestly).  After she finished her homework today, she started writing some of it backwards, because she was so fascinated with da Vinci's mirror-writing--we spent dinnertime today talking about some of his more interesting inventions, sculptures, and paintings.  It's just amazing to me that she is studying the Renaissance in second grade (she even has an era-appropriate name given by her teacher, and they're writing with quill pens in class).  I just love it.  And Jules has jumped 3 reading levels in the last two weeks, so she is thriving as well.  (And Isaac, thanks to the fact that I am home-schooling Jules for math since they do that in the afternoon, knows more about math than either of his sisters did until they were 5.  Or 6, since he's actually ahead of Jules in some things.  Craziness.  They are little sponges.)

I have another ultrasound scheduled for next week.  I'm excited to find out the baby's gender (ooh, tiebreaker!!!), but a little nervous to see what else is going on with my body.  Sometimes I like to look back at my previous self (when I was pregnant with the girls) and mentally shake my head at how arrogant I was about how easy pregnancy is, and why are all these women complaining, etc.  Another thing I can't imagine--how some women manage to have 12+ children.  I have so much respect for their endurance, both physical and mental.  I feel like my body is barely holding together and I still have another 21 weeks (and hopefully more babies!) to go.  It's a little scary if I think about it too much--mostly I've just learned to deal with the pain and move on.  Much more denial than I've ever indulged in before in my life.  It's probably not healthy but it's how I'm coping.

I'm so grateful for my husband and children who pick up the slack for me.  Neil, as always, is an absolute gem who never complains about my inability to do my normal tasks, even though he's exhausted himself--he just does what needs to be done.  And the children have been so great. Jules in particular is apt to help out without ever being asked, or without asking for recognition--I went to collect all the kids' laundry tonight and found that she and Isaac had already done it together.  They saw something that needed to be done, and did it (especially cute because it required one of them boosting the other up to the washer so that they could empty the baskets).  Abigail has gotten really good at packing her own lunch every night and collecting all of her paraphernalia for school the next day so that it's all ready to go.  And she is SO good about practicing piano and doing her homework--she usually has hours of things to do every night, and while I frequently have to remind her to stay on task, she very rarely grumbles about it (and I totally would if I was her age and had other things I wanted to do!!)  And Luke, while he is inventive and mischievous, is still such a little endearing little cherub that I can't help kissing him a hundred times a day. I especially love the way he is prone to falling asleep in my arms when I sing to him before his nap.  None of my other children have done that, and we are so busy that I absolutely cherish the time every day when the two of us sit down together in the rocking chair and he snuggles up and stares at my face until his eyelids flutter shut (like his mother, he goes to sleep almost instantly if you stroke his hair!).

And I'm really, really grateful that the semester is almost over, and the grading that I have left is comparatively painless (key word: comparatively).  Hurray!! Almost a month of leisure before classes start again.

I'm sure that I could ramble on about other things that are only of interest to me, but I've finished cooling off from my run now and so I really should go shower and go to bed (plus my stress-induced eyelid twitching is starting again and I can't see the screen).

things I am thankful for today

It's been awhile since my blog had words, so...here are some words.  Things that I'm grateful for.

• the time I spent today on the couch with Juliet folded into my lap and her head snuggled under my chin while we listened to Abigail, who was snuggled up to my other side, read to us while the boys played together on the floor. I was perfectly and completely content and it was the best part of my day.
• Isaac's funny ways of speech:  "I'm a T-wex with weewee sarp cwaws!"
• and that Isaac is (mostly) potty-trained.  This makes my life feel so much easier.
• Good friends.  I made a really quick call today to a friend, but Isaac was yelling in the background so I didn't talk very long, and afterwards I was wishing I'd had a few minutes to chat with her because I enjoy her conversation so much.  And ditto for the friend who had Isaac and Juliet over for a playdate earlier, and I hung around forever when I was picking them up because it was so nice to talk with her!  I like friends.  I need to make friendship more of a priority in this busy busy life.  Friends, I have missed you all and you all are wonderful.
• physical therapy.  It's hard to be grateful for this because I was feeling particularly cranky today about the fact that it's eating an hour every day (and how effective is physical therapy when you're toting a baby on one hip and a little boy is zooming a car up and down your other hip?), but my knee has progressed from horrific pain to just feeling sort of weird and making popping noises, so that's pretty darn awesome.
• my husband works so hard for us.  He's back at the lab right now, and I spent the evening eating chocolate ice cream and reading a fun new book... 
• ...because the grading that has been plaguing my life out is finally done.  Words cannot express how happy this makes me.
• I'm thankful for "Downton Abbey," which admittedly is trending a bit towards the soap opera genre, but it's still awesome anyway.  It's going to be a long year until we find out what happens next!
• my calling right now is really pushing me to think and consider and ponder.  The latest series of lessons have been topics that have been really difficult for me, and it has been so good to read tons of talks and articles and viewpoints in addition to the lesson material (which is admittedly quite outdated--and okay, I'm pretty much teaching straight from the supplemental Conference talks and the scriptures and not the manul).  I feel like these lessons are for my benefit more so than for the Laurels (I know people say that all the time about lessons or talks, but it's true for me), but these sweet young ladies are patient with me anyway while I work through my issues and try to give a coherent lesson!  And that's another thing I am grateful for--these girls are AMAZING.  Just amazing.  I love love love teaching them.  This is my favorite calling that I've ever had.  Another thing I'm grateful for.  :-)
• growing maturity.  We've had to make some changes in our home and future plans that have seriously curtailed personal goals that I had set for myself, and I'm at peace with that.  These are things that I really would have struggled with giving up even six months ago, and I am so grateful that I can do it now.  
• Luke's cheeks.  Every time he looks up at me and rubs his fat little hand through his wee curls and says expectantly, "Mam mam mama?" I just have to kiss those chunky little pillows a hundred times (note: my mom says this is why we're always sick and she is absolutely right.  we share germs, oh yes we do).  
• baked oatmeal.  I've been making this for Friday morning breakfasts for probably six months and everyone in my family loves it.  EVERYONE.  it is the best thing ever to start out that last weekday, especially because you can make it the night before and stick it in the 'fridge.  here is the recipe (I've modified it from the original source (scaled some elements down so it makes just enough for our family, added more apples, and substituted applesauce for all of the oil)
  
  2 c. oats
  1 c. milk (more if it looks really dry)
  1 egg
  1 scant t. baking powder
  1 t. cinnamon
  1 t. vanilla
  2 Granny Smith apples, diced
  1/2 c. applesauce
  1/4 c. maple syrup

mix everything together until it's a big gooey mess and then plop it into a greased baking dish, cover, and pop it in the 'fridge.  bake at 375 for 30 minutes.  

Beauty

When I was twelve or thirteen, I would wake up early at sleepovers, go put my makeup on, and then go back to sleep.  I couldn't even abide the thought of anyone, even my best friends, seeing me without makeup.  Throughout high school and college I continued to be obsessed with my appearance, as anyone who knew me then can attest (I don't remember ever wearing jeans in college except for one cowboy and Indian-themed dance, which I had to go to because I was in charge, and I borrowed a pair of jeans from my roommate).  I did leg-lifts and crunches obsessively in my room, experimented endlessly with makeup, and spent far too much time and money trying to improve my appearance.  Despite this, I never felt beautiful enough.  (Looking back at this time, I think I had some real underlying issues with body image and appearance, so my experience may not necessarily speak to yours.)

I've been thinking about this a lot lately--about beauty, about body image, about how we see ourselves and how we worry about how others see us.

Today I was sitting on the kitchen floor after lunch with Luke in my lap.  I tickled his tummy with my face and he wound both his hands in my hair and yanked vigorously as he chortled with joy.  I didn't care because my hair was the slept-in updo left over from church yesterday (and by "updo" I mean "the bun I put my hair in because I didn't bother to actually do it").  I thought about what a quiet blessing it is to be able to let him do this and not worry about it.

I don't know if it's having children or if it's another decade of years lived, but I am happier with the way I look now than I ever was as a teenager.  Many of the things I used to hate about myself no longer bother me (running a lot really makes me grateful that I do not have the well-endowed chest that I always longed for!), or I've simply stopped seeing them as the focus of my worry and angst.  And things that would have horrified my teenage self (all that loose skin from 4 pregnancies, anyone?) I now shrug off (hey, at least I don't have stretch marks!) These days, I am overflowing with gratitude for having a healthy body that can do all the things it needs to do--bear children, run for hours on end, spend an entire day actively fulfilling my responsibilities and have the energy to do it all over again the next day.  I have come to see my body less as something to beat into submission than as a wonderful gift that allows me to do so many things.  And to be honest, I think it is running that has done this for me.  I know a lot of people think runners are crazy, but for me, this is why I love to run.  It's something amazing that my body and my mind are doing together, and instead of being enemies, we're suddenly on the same team.

I hope I can pass this on to my girls.  I hope I can teach them how wonderful it is to have a body that can do so many amazing things, and how you can do things you never thought possible by training your body to do them.  And how miraculous and wonderful it is that we can be here on Earth; that we can have a body, and that we can learn and grow and progress and come to love ourselves.

neti pots and molasses candy. because that pairing makes sense, right?

We had a fast/slow weekend around here:  a crazy burst of productivity on Saturday followed by the misery of colds all 'round on Sunday.  Can I just say again how much I love my neti pot?  For all you unbelievers out there (MARY BETH, I'M TALKING TO YOU!!!) it is the most amazing thing ever in helping stave off entirely (or just cut the duration short) of those beastly winter colds.  When I woke up, I felt like my head was going to explode; a quick session with the neti pot and I felt ready to take on the day (although I had to give myself a little pep talk--out loud, for reals--to run.  Head colds and running just are not fun friends).  I had to chuckle when I overheard Neil fervently testifying to his dad about the effectiveness of the neti pot--they are just awesome.  A little weird-looking, but awesome.

I'm thinking for treats after family home evening tonight we may make this molasses snow candy (think Little House in the Big Woods).  Hopefully it will restore my credibility as a cook with the kids:  we tried 3 new recipes last week and 2 of them were total duds (Neil and I liked the third, but the kids did not). 

This is completely random, but I have really been enjoying selling textbooks and old magazines on eBay and Amazon lately.  It's nice to get money back from clearing out things that you don't want any more; even better when you can get rid of old books and fund a closet makeover!  Which was our project on Saturday.  Pictures to come!


ps...Mary Beth, I love you.  :-)  But really, try out your neti pot. 

reflecting

Today has been a little hard. Yesterday felt like a never-ending marathon of things that had to be done; when I finally fell into bed at 10 pm I felt utterly drained. This morning we spent two hours at the doctor's office for the third time in as many weeks; Isaac needed a breathing treatment and 3 shots, and we ended up leaving with a nebulizer so that we can give him treatments every four hours for the next week (along with steroids and antibiotics). It was disheartening, to say the least.

But I can't help but count my blessings. I am so incredibly thankful for my three children. I was thinking this morning about how much I have "grown up" since Abigail's birth, and how much I still have to learn--but I can recognize the areas where I need to expand and change. I'm so grateful for the chance I have to learn and develop. I'm grateful for a husband who supports my decision to stay home with the children, although my education and talents are such that we could live very comfortably if I worked full-time. I'm grateful for his willingness to live more humbly (and at the same time, for his encouragement as I teach the occasional class or two).

Most of all, I'm just grateful for each day. Sometimes I wake up and think, "Oh no...another one..." but more often I am simply thankful for the opportunity to do a little better and be a little better every day than I was the day before (something that makes it into my prayers every night). I'm grateful for the little moments that transcend the mundane nature of much that I do: for the intent concentration on a little brow as small hands shape a loaf of bread, for a baby who twists around in my lap to give me an enormous grin as he pats my face, for a little girl who practically lives in a pink fluffy tutu.

I'm grateful for mortality. I'm so grateful that I can make my own choices and learn and grow from my mistakes and from my successes. Really, there are few better gifts.

pictures, updates, and looking backward and forward

Not so regular on the updates these days, hence the vast quantity of pictures...

I feel like we're sloooowly getting back into the swing of things--I even went to church today! Isaac is continuing to be a really good sleeper--he has more awake time during the day, but at night he's eating and going right back to sleep. Unfortunately he's still having "awake time" fairly late at night, so there's only about seven hours between when he settles down for the night and when the girls wake up in the morning (minus two hours for middle-of-the-night feedings in there), so I'm pretty tired most of the time (and unfortunately while Juliet is napping right now, he is WIDE awake!)

In any case, he is utterly darling. Don't you love his little church clothes (which will probably be too small for him to wear next week?) And his crazy hair, which has led to the nicknames Wolverine and Wolf-Man, and lots of comparisons to a very small and darling hedgehog?

I still worry about whether he's eating enough, because the girls were voracious barracuda-type nursers, and he's much more laid-back, but he weighed 8 lbs 14 oz on Friday (regained his birth weight and then some) and he is producing diapers in VAST quantities, so apparently he is eating enough with a vengeance.


The girls are adjusting pretty well, I think. Juliet seems to be taking it more in stride than Abigail, who has had a lot of defiant episodes this week. I am so grateful that my mom was able to spend the last two weeks here (and Rosalind the first week), since it has been a real blessing to be able to sleep in until 8:30 (so nice after getting up every 2 hours all night!!), take a nap in the afternoon, not worry about timing nursing sessions around preparing meals, etc. She read countless stories, took the girls to the playground, and was a real trooper about our cloth diapers (despite my repeated, "Mom, I really don't care if you use the disposables this week!"). Talk about love.



I am a little worried about this week--mostly about the fact that Abigail is really on a disobedience kick, which has reduced me to tears numerous times already (postpartum hormones and lack of sleep are big contributers here as well). I am hoping that as we settle down into more of a routine that she'll be happier--this last week was pretty rough. But all in all, I think we're doing pretty well. Tomorrow should be an interesting day as I figure out how to do three kids all on my own--and guess what? Tomorrow is my birthday!!
Twenty-six.



Last night Neil and I watched Marley and Me. It was a much better movie than I expected, and I really liked what Jennifer Aniston's character said about her life being totally different from the life she'd envisioned, and how her life (being a stay-at-home mother rather than continuing with a highly successful career as a reporter) was so much better than she could have ever planned. I'm grateful for the chance to be a mother, and that at twenty-six, I have three beautiful children as my primary focus. Don't get me wrong, I'm incredibly grateful for the opportunities I've had to get a graduate degree and to teach at the university level and have my own little editing "business," but what I'm really grateful for is the time to do things like plant a garden alongside my children, spend a morning walking through the woods with my family, patch drywall with my husband, and rub little backs during family scripture study. Those are my golden moments.

only Neil is capable of picking things in the squash patch at this point. you really need long arms!

Last but not least, some things I'm looking forward to:

• running again (starting tomorrow! my birthday gift to myself)
• we are making some major dietary changes, based on The China Study and The Blue Zones. I feel like this is the perfect time to start eating a more plant-based diet, since our garden is going crazy with yummy stuff!! Our plan is to eat meat a maximum of once a week, fish at least once a week, and plants and whole grains the rest of the time. We are still going to keep on with things like milk, cheese, and eggs for the time being, although I really would like to try going straight vegan for at least a month. For now, we'll do some baby steps, and I will probably just cut back on my own consumption of animal protein.

and here are a few more little slumbering Isaac shots: