B-Happy

Three Things Thursday

2012-01-26T10:38:00.002-07:00

Three of Tickle Torture....

He looked up at us with tears welling in his eyes and with a shaking voice said,

"Mom, Dad.... the kids at school"

(insert dramatic pause here as a tear rolls down his red cheek)

"....They.... they.... they call me.... Oak Tree."

(voice breaks into sobs)

Honestly, when I went down the teasing possibilities for the name Oakley I thought of Oak Tree and figured it would not be a big deal.

"Oh, Oakley. Don't be so sad! At least your name isn't Cooper, because you know what they'd call you then, right?"

"What?"

"Pooper."

Bedtime (again!?)

2012-01-23T17:24:00.000-07:00

My children have been going to bed every night of their lives. Haven't yours?

I'll admit that there are variations in the routine, like whether or not we remember to brush teeth (don't tell the Dentist) sometimes we skip the prayer (don't tell the Bishop). Switch-ups in who gets a snuggle first and which story is read are common. These days Eden reads a lot of the bedtime stories to the Littles, which I like to call "killing four birds with one stone".

But more often than not it's a predictable sequence that should go smoothly for these little creatures of habit.

If fact, these children of mine are so familiar with the routine of going to bed that sometimes they play 'bedtime' all day long. Putting babies to bed, putting each other to bed, singing songs, the whole shebang. They even build make shift sleeping quarters in various locations, just for the sheer joy of it.

So. Why is it that bedtime is such a SHOCK when it comes?

Why do toddlers wail and preschoolers whine?

When the clocks strikes 8pm why does my son lay on the floor and moan and why does my nine-year old suddenly remember the seventeen things that must be completed before school the next day?

Please, please internet. Please tell me the answers.

Wherein the Gods of the Internet Come Through

2012-01-20T10:00:00.000-07:00

Many many moons ago, I sent a prayer up to the Gods of the Internet, Craigslist and the like..

"Dear Craigslist: Please send me 8 of these chairs for my dining room. xoxoxB."

(Click photo if you want to see my Pinterest boards. Yet another time sucker. I'm telling you now: DO NOT JOIN PINTEREST. There. Consider yourself warned, and have fun pinning.)

As it turns out, chairs like those referred to in my humble prayer retail for $200-$300 each (this is Crate & Barrel's white spaceship version...)

Because I choose to stay at home and watch my children throw perfectly good cereal all over the floor instead of going out into the work force to bring in a cushy second income that we really don't need... well. I just couldn't justify the expense. $2400 for chairs that will be spilled on, climbed over, and generally mucked up for the next decade. Imagine! Besides, there is far too much photography equipment to be purchased to be spending that sort of cash on chairs.

But look! Just LOOK what my own personal Design Fairy found in an abandoned storage room:

I should probably replace the khaki brown seat covers, but in reality that will never happen. However, I do think that the deep chocolate color goes well with the 1970's brown molding. I've been told that such molding is quickly making a comeback in the world of design. Or something.

The best part: They were F to the R to the Double E!

And just in case you thought I was kidding about the wasted cereal part....

Three Things Thursday

2012-01-19T22:20:00.000-07:00

Three of my boy

(I processed these shots with a vintage look that I'm trying to make not too over-the-top but it's still a work in progress, but that has nothing to do with this little tale I'm about to tell...)

I overheard something I wish I hadn't....

While exploring a new sledding hill (within walking distance from our little green house, how did this treasure go undiscovered for all these years!!?? ) I watched two little boys about my son's age walk down to join the sledding festivities. As they got closer and gave the group a once-over, one boy leaned over to the other,"Don't worry. We'll just ignore Oakley."

Obviously my heart broke into a thousand pieces right there in the falling snow.

I then did some motherly calculations and determined that I am going to make sure my son becomes a basket ball star so he can kick that kid's ass.

So there.

(Understatement of the week: Watching my children grow up and experience life really hurts sometimes).

Oh. And here are three more of vitage-y sledding. Just because I'm so seldom blogging these days, I figure, why not.

Thank You

2012-01-16T05:00:00.000-07:00

(photo source here. click to listen to Dr. King's speech)

Having come from a Faith where Pioneers are celebrated and Prophets revered, it would be negligent of me not to honor the pioneer and visionary man of Faith (yes, perhaps even Prophet) who stands as a symbol for the changes that allow me to live with this little family of mine.

I haven't read the full text of Dr. Martin Luther King's famous "I Have a Dream" speech for a couple of years *shame on me*. But I read it this year (beacuse it's never too late to make a good decision), talked about it with my children. I even picked out a couple of paragraphs that we don't usually hear to share here...just because I love you so.

"But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so, we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice.

We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children."

I ask myself if I am of the character of person to not be satisfied with injustice. If I will stand, firm, unwavering, peaceful and determined in the face of inequality, regardless of the cost, or will I be content to "take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism"?

I think of what was put on the line to right the wrongs of ages and I have to pause to take a breath.

Without Dr. Martin Luther King and the faithful people who lived for, stood for, and died for civil rights in this country... well.... there would be no Ethiopian Christmas doll to play with at our house. There would be no no red-head and black-skinned sisters negotiating the art of making the baby dolls stand up on the dresser. And I would be missing blessings that I didn't even know could be possible.

....What's that? You wanted to see the photo? Ok. Here.

Happy Birthday Eve!

2012-01-14T06:00:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday to my sister Eve! You make beautiful babies!

A Simple Letter and some Sparkles

2012-01-13T17:14:00.002-07:00

Oakley didn't have the greatest day at school yesterday (refer to previous post)... He was pretty bummed by the time we got home after therapy and errands.

And wouldn't you know, that on such a day as this, I opened the mail box and found a letter addressed to the very boy who needed it most. A letter from his Primary teacher at church.

Oakley's eyes lit up, he carefully opened the letter and smiled from ear to ear as I helped him read the words from his new teacher. This little letter turned his day around and gave him something to share during "Thumbs Up" at dinner.

In defining what I actually believe (Resolution 2012, remember?) I can say this:

I know that we matter to God.

I know that we are meant to help each other along in this journey of life, that He blesses us through each other.

It touched my heart to know that my crooked little pee-boy who can never sit still, who struggles to write his name in a straight line, and who tries so hard every day only to return home discouraged ... That God knew he needed a little boost yesterday. More importantly, it amazes me that Oakley's Primary teacher somehow figured this out and followed through.

I think the difference between he (the teacher) and I is follow through. Don't we all entertain little sparkly thoughts, flitting about during the day... 'I should call her'... 'He might need a meal'.... 'I wonder if their car has been fixed yet'... 'my kid needs some one on one time today'.. but then we look the other way and carry about our oh-so-important-and-busy-lives as the little light fizzles and fades into nothingness.

Follow through. When I happen to spot a sparkle of kindness passing through my thoughts, I will reach out and grab it, hang on, and follow through. Pay it forward, bless someone else like this insightful teacher blessed my little boy yesterday with a simple letter. Who knows, but that my life will brighten up a bit because of it.

Three Things Thursday

2012-01-12T19:39:00.001-07:00

Three things I worry about...

1. My son. My son. My son. The latest problem at school can be explained my his new daily goal, "I did not have potty problems today." I will save him the embarrassment of sharing the details on the world wide web.

2. Georgia's brows and lashes are invisible. Very worrisome.

3. How do I continue to meet the needs of my eldest daughter (rapidly approaching adolescence) while still keeping up with the younger children? Who gets to do which activities? Who will miss out? Can I spread myself thinner to meet all these demands?

Three Things I don't worry about...

1. Saying "no" to outside demands. I am past the point of experiencing guilt for what I just cannot do. In fact, I said "no" today and felt very good about it. (Even though I know it made me look like a cop-out to others involved.) But I just don't care like I may have years ago.

2. The state of our basement (as pictured here after a week of untouched play.) Usually every 8-10 days we go down and clean it up together, more for the sake of the children, as they don't like to play down there when things get too out of sorts. Other than that, it's a play room and looks played in.

3. Making sure my kids get on the bus on time. I've decided it is better to have a morning without yelling and frantic running about than to always make sure they are on the bus. If they don't get out the door on time for the bus, I simply drive them to school. I'm a Stay-at-Home Mom, for Pete's sake. If I can't drive my children to school once in while then what's the point!

There is No Longer Two-Two in Our Home and I Must Shed a Tear or Two

2012-01-02T21:28:00.002-07:00

(I did not take this photo... OBV. I was too busy being exhausted to set up the tripod and timer. It was Mr. Workman. I just put a B on it to tell the world that it belongs to me. )

My Dearest Little Red,

I had intended to name you Ginger Noel. But then, after many many many (x14) hours of labor which included THREE HOURS OF PUSHING FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT'S GOOD AND HOLY IN THE WORD!.... After all that, you came out with flaming red hair.

So. Ginger was out of the question. We finally settled on Georgia, because of Grandpa George and all.

I am not sure why we did not stick with Noel. In fact, I often call you Georgia Noel, even though I know full well that we named you Georgia Ann (the Ann was for your Grandmothers... Mary Ann and Sue Ann... both remarkable women). So I like Ann, I do. But sometimes I wonder why I didn't just stick with Noel.

Anyway. That was three years ago today. THREE YEARS AGO. Can you believe it?

You are growing into a delightful, willful, slightly hilarious child who demands that the sour cream be moved off from on top the enchilada to the empty space beside the enchilada. And your Father and I, suckers that we are, we apologetically move the sour cream for you. Every time.

Please do not get confused and think that we do these things for you because you came from his sperm and my egg. This is not the case. We do them for you because you are the baby baby baby. Your big sister, Eden... she was cooking her own enchiladas from scratch when she was your age, after she drove the car to the store by herself to shop for the ingredients. And it's not because she was adopted. It's because she is the oldest, and it is perfectly reasonable to expect your oldest child to do such things. But not the youngest. No, indeed, you will be coddled and cradled and cooed at until you are approximately 17 years of age. That's just the way life is.

But thank goodness you are potty trained. Even the baby baby baby does need to use the potty sooner or later (I, for one, am glad it was sooner).

And thank goodness for your red-headed spunk, your freckles, your kisses, your games and your genuine love of everything your little life offers you (minus the sour cream-topped enchiladas, I mean). I see your spirit in there, behind those bright blue eyes, blue like the sky in July. I see it in there and I marvel at all that you may be one day.

Happy Birthday to you, my sweet baby girl. I am so glad I get to be your Mom.

I Believe...

2011-12-31T23:44:00.001-07:00

I believe in winter picnics around a cozy fire.

I believe in homemade hats (except for when I run out of time and, instead, use a fortuitous thrift store find for my son... do you think he'll get beat up if he wears the circa 1984 stripes and pom-poms to school?)

I believe in playing outside.

I believe in New Years kisses.

The rest of what I believe... well... I'm still working on that.

Perhaps this is a good New Year's Resolution: Figure out what I believe.

I do have a little something I want to do in 2012, but I'm too embarrassed to say.

It's more of a wish... a dream... an aspiration. That's different than a resolution, isn't it?

Do you know the difference between a goal and a wish and a dream and a resolution?

Do you have a goal or a wish or a dream or a resolution?

Do tell. (Unless you are embarassed, of course.)

Happy New Year!

Three Things Thursday

2011-12-29T23:31:00.001-07:00

Three New Years Resolutions I will not make this year...

1. Keep the counter of doom clean. It's impossible. I've given up.

2. Unrealistic exercise and weight goals. I always start a new year off "I will lose 10lbs and keep it off" and "I will run 2 marathons." Yea. Right.

3. Weekly date night... It's a good idea. Once a week, out with Mr. Workman, not a child in sight. It's a rather trendy thing for couples such as us, and it seems like something we should be doing. Realistically, though, this never happens, even when I put it on my New Year's list (every year). We enjoy each other just fine in the comfort of our own home, and (especially in the winter) there's not a whole lot of things to do in this area besides go see a movie. So, unless I really really need sushi, we may as well save the baby sitter's fee and make use of our great little home theater.

Well. That was fun. What's for dinner?

2011-12-27T11:09:00.000-07:00

I hope you had a last-minute-present-making-light-sabre-slashing-singing-in-the-choir-with-your-daughter-tutu-twirling-Wii-overdosing-baby-doll-loving-knitted-hat-superbly-delicious-snowshoes-for-two-vintage-coat-sporting Holiday!

Do you like my new coat? It's vintage. I got it to go with that clock hiding out behind the tree. Here's me... the perfect Chirtmas hostess, circa 1957. That lasted for all of 27 seconds.

Do you like the new jammies? They're from Auntie Eve. Thanks Auntie!

On Christmas Day we shared some delicious ham and roasted carrots with 17 people. Our little green house was full to the brim! They, in turn, shared their mashed potatoes, rolls and jello with us. Mmm. Jello.

Tonight, however, we will be having burnt carrot-cauliflower soup. I am going to pretend that I like it 'smokey', but between you and me... yuck. We're eating it anyway though... because I may or may not have purchased that amazing Betty Draper-esque coat for myself with the rest of December's grocery money.

So, as my Mother Dearest used to say... LIKE IT OR LUMP IT kids.

As for Christmas... We rather liked it.

PS: If you don't scorch the vegetables during the first cooking phase, this recipe is actually pretty good and good for you...

Carrot Cauliflower Soup

Ingredients:

1	Medium Potato, diced
4	Medium Carrots, diced
1 cup	Onion, chopped
1	Small Head of Cauliflower, cut up
2 cups	Water
3-4	More Cups Water
4 tsp	Chicken Bouillon Powder
1 tsp	Beef Bouillon Powder
1 tsp	Prepared Mustard
½ tsp	Ground Nutmeg
1 tsp	Salt
¼ tsp	Pepper
1/2 cube	reduced fat cream cheese

Directions:

Combine first 5 ingredients in pan. Cook until vegetables are done. Do not drain. Remove from heat.
Stir in next 8 ingredients. Use immersion blender or food processor to puree it all together. Return to pan.

Wherein Christmas Miracles are Alive and Well

2011-12-24T09:45:00.001-07:00

By traditional Mormon standards I think it's safe to say that I am a bra-burning-vigil-holding-man-bashing feminist.

In the real world (where people where tank tops with reckless abandon and consume --gasp-- coffee on a daily basis) this means I am a strong supporter of women's rights.

I am often surprised, therefore, at how empowered, fulfilled and satisfied I feel with this choice to be at home, put my career on the back burner, and live entirely for someone else (in this case, for 4 someone else's).

It scares me to death sometimes.

I am scared that I will give everything that I am away to my children and husband and, in the end, be left with nothing. A shell of a person with no support and no means to provide for myself.
.
.
.

And yet, this Stay-At-Home-Mom-Giving-Everything-That-I-Am life that I've chosen is my joy.

I have seen this more clearly over the past few weeks of Christmas festivities. This year I would have much rather Scrooged it up, wallowed in mounds of misery and sprinkled anger from the rooftops.

However, the Mom four young children cannot do such things without leaving disaster in her wake. As it stands, my children will already have p-l-e-n-t-y to cry to their therapists about, I don't need to add "My Mom ruined Christmas" to the list.

So, I girded up my loins, crowned myself Queen of the Holiday Cheer and, in true pioneer spirit, put my shoulder to the wheel. We have cookied, gifted, crafted, field tripped, played, traditioned, baked, gamed, candied, sang, decorated and celebrated together. I have literally forced myself to think very little of myself, ignore my personal angst and give all my energies and desires over to my children.

Friends, I have to tell you. This might, quite possibly go down in history as the sweetest, most tender Christmas in B-Happy history.

And what happened then...?
Well...in Who-ville they say
That the Grinch's small heart
Grew three sizes that day!
And the minute his heart didn't feel quite so tight,
He whizzed with his load through the bright morning light
And he brought back the toys! And the food for the feast!
And he...

...HE HIMSELF...!
The Grinch carved the roast beast!

Dr. Seuss

Three Things Thursday

2011-12-16T09:59:00.000-07:00

Three things I know for sure about parenting...

1. There will be messes. Diaper messes. Eating messes. Curiosity messes. Playing messes. Clean up messes. Laundry messes. Cooking messes. Peeing in the car seat messes. Candy messes. Learning messes. Throwing messes. Creating messes. School messes. Playing with friends messes. Field trip messes. Holiday messes. Crafting messes Organizing messes. Learning how to bathe yourself messes. Puking messes. Road trip messes. Getting ready for church on Sunday messes. Poop accident messes. Paper messes. Crayon messes. Fighting messes. Stacking messes. Shopping messes. Tromping messes. Hiking messes. Sleeping messes. Etc.

(featured here are: after school snack mess, fort building mess, creating a potion mess)

2. I don't know anything else for sure about parenting. Just that there will be messes. And that it is silly to get upset by messes. And that if you teach your kids to clean up the messes things will always get worse before they get better. And that if there are no messes, it's very likely that your children and watching way too much tv.

3. I would have posted this yesterday, when it was actually Thursday, but I fell asleep while I was tucking Eden in at 8:30pm. All tuckered out, I suppose, from cleaning up so many messes.

Wherein I shamelessly flaunt my good grades and my son is still a turd but I can't help but love him anyway

2011-12-12T22:19:00.000-07:00

From the instructor:

"Your work is amazing. This essay should be shared with many people. "

"Keep writing. You're really good. "

"Your work is simply amazing. I have enjoyed reading all of it. Please, please continue to write, and share your work with others."

Ahh. Yes. The sweet sweet smell of success. Procrastinated success, no less. I pulled two-thirds of that class off in two weeks. The real joy, though is the beauty of bragging about it all over the Internet. Shameless.

It sort of makes up for things like the phone call from the Vice Principal this morning that went something like this...

VP: I'm calling because Oakley got in trouble on the bus today
Me: (Rolling eyes)
VP: He hit the bus driver in the head with his lunch box
Me: (Climbing under my bed to hide from the shame)
VP: He says he had a rough night because his sisters woke him up at 5:30 in the morning so that's why he hit him
Me: (Stuffing my face with as many mint chocolate M&Ms as I can fit without suffocating myself)

To be continued... still waiting to hear back from the bus driver.

SO... I have no idea how to raise my son. As if this is news to anyone who knows this family.

But I do feel encouraged about writing.

Hip Hip Hooray for small successes!

Christmas, Colfax Style

2011-12-07T20:17:00.001-07:00

Eden has officially announced that she is too old to sit on Santa's knee. I can accept this. Santa is, frankly, a bit scary. Just ask Little Red.

Our little town has a Christmas celebration at the beginning of each December. Santa and cookies at the library, a grand-ish candy-throwing parade, and fireworks.

Nothing says Ho Ho Ho like a bedazzled combine, lemmetellya.

This year I am dutifully doing all the Christmassy things, mostly for the children. It seems, though, that the weight of the pending divorce of my parents overshadows most things. Not that it is a big surprise, in fact, we are all very aware that they will both be much happier alone. The weight comes from the upturning of years and years of sadness, fresh, steaming sadness in which to wallow.

Screaming anger explodes from within my heart and surprises even me (passionate to the core)

with its intensity.

I could tell you all about why I'm angry, I suppose. Trumpet it from the rooftops in the hopes that justice will prevail, that the weak will overcome, that the guilty will confess and plead forgiveness. I wonder, sometimes, if spelling out all the dysfunction and pain for the entire Internet to read would make it more manageable to deal with.

More than likely the answer is no. I would just end up throwing people under the bus (or the twinkling combine, as it were). To be fair, a child can never know all the truths behind the relationship of her parents and should sit quietly instead. Seen and not heard.

So my anger simmers, unattended and hot.

Three Things Thursday

2011-12-01T05:42:00.000-07:00

Three amazing things Mr. Workman did for me on Tuesday night....

No. Not that.

Get your mind out of the gutter.

Honestly.

ACTUALLY, I was in bed (all alone) by 8pm. For I have been rather ill and (even though it's not a sinus infection, the usual culprit) it has sapped my energy, split my head in two and made increased my grumpy factor exponetially. So I went to bed before some of the children did, without even glancing at the disaster I had left behind.

Anyway... when I woke up on Wednesday morning, I found that he had...

1. Swept and washed the floor (sticky-crumby-not-been-washed-in-over-a-week-disgusting floor)
2. Organized the boot room which was well on it's way to driving me officially mad.
3. Cleaned the kitchen spic 'n span clean from top to bottom (except the counter top of doom... but who can blame him, it really is a pit of despair)

Here is the man of the hour himself, on the way out the door for a Daddy-Daughter Date to the High School Musical. Cinderella. It was better than GLEE, or at least that's what I heard.

(please take note of Eden's fabulous outfit. Handpicked (for the most part) from our dress-up trunk, dahling.)

Thank you Mr. Workman. You rock my world. xoxo

A Patchwork Day in November

2011-11-27T21:09:00.001-07:00

Before the pine trees and HO HO HO fill up the next month, I thought I needed to document one of the loveliest afternoons I've spent in a while. The light was delicious, the colors stunning and the company enjoyable. A beautiful memory deserves a blog post at least.

But man.... I did a pretty shoddy job on that storyboard. Each of those photographs could have been their own framed glory. Le sigh.

I hope to find beauty this winter with the kids, for this is when we are the happiest together. Though I do love our little green and brick house, we tend to get on each other's nerves quickly when cooped up here. I'm going to have to think outside the box for Christmas vacation.

I am ALMOST DONE with the writing class! I've put on my Grad school intensity and gunned through this thing. I guess there IS a brain in this noggin after all. I know I've sold myself short, I could have learned a lot more had I done it piece by piece with a reasonable timeline. I did get a decent-ish short story out of it, about a thousand miniature writing assignments, a nice personal essay and a couple of ridiculous poems (my last assignment is a sonnet (for crying in the rain) and all I can think of to write about is the basement toy room, it's pitiful. Really.) Oh. And I'll earn enough CEU's to fill my professional requirement for the year (assuming I pass... keeping my fingers crossed.)

Being a Mom seems to mean that everything else comes first. I'm not sure what I would have changed... Miss swim meets? Cancel the few photo session I manage each month? Skip piano lessons? Stop taking The Littles to library time? Classroom volunteering? Dishes? I guess I could have given up a few episodes of Grey's Anatomy, I mean, there aren't those steamy-hospital-supply-room-sex-scenes like there used to be, so really... what's the point. Those were the days.

Thank you, November, for that lovely day I will not soon forget. Thanks for being the kind of month that pushes me to finish a procrastinated goal. And thanks for the extra three pounds on my butt from last week. Mmm. Mmm. Those were gooood mashed potatoes.

Thankful

2011-11-24T09:21:00.001-07:00

I am thankful for this journey of life

For the ups and downs

For the beauty found along the way

For people to share it with

Happy (American) Thanksgiving!

Words Words Words

2011-11-23T11:39:00.001-07:00

Vocabulary word: Enjambment.
As defined in my handy dandy writing text, is: the running on of the thought from one line, couplet, or stanza to the next without a syntactical break.

Behold, I present unto you, my lovely little poem about the bedroom of the Littles. New! Improved! Now with Enjambment!

A jumbly bumble of things great and small
Pink
ruffled slippers Lovelylayers
of lace Holesin
the socks Hangers
on the floor Jammies for
bedtime
Big girl panties in a pile

A cradle for the baby dolls rocking to and fro

Bunk beds top and bottom

Hidden treasures buried beneath

Rocks from rivers Sticks from

the park Snacks saved for later Crackers

and cheese. Moldy.

Oh! That’s where the toothpaste went!

Matchy matchy flowers squared

So. What do you think? Does it make a difference? I think it allows for more a better visual of the confusion and disarray of the bedroom.

I seem to have the same attitude toward poetry as I do towards chiropractors. I think it's a bunch of hocus pocus silliness. Even so, there are times when it is necessary. Not that the poem about my inability to keep their room clean is of any value. But I guess I can see how some people can rely on poetry a great deal. Like I now rely on my chiropractor to keep my hip in place.

This is what little G has to say about the words in her life. Mean words and nice words. These are very important matters. Not cutting your hair is also an important matter, worthy of documented discussion.

Anyhooooo...

Are you making a turkey this weekend? Oakley has some tips for you...

His teacher called me to tell me he's started barking at other children. Not just a normal bark. It's a deep bronchial bark, right in people's faces. I'm going to have to admit that this made me cry. Right there on the phone. Because my kid is the annoying barking one with no friends. Also, I've had to throw away three shirts because he chewed right through them. Is he a werewolf? Because if so, Kenneth's going to have to switch over from Team Vampire real quick.

Nawana, my sister, reminded me that things could be worse. Like the kid in her class, back in Slave Lake (before it burnt down, I mean). He would sit down to eat his lunch and first tear up the paper bag into little bitty pieces and eat it. Then he'd eat his Cup 'O Soup, slurping it like a cat. Meow.

I wonder if that kid's Mom ever took him for a walk in the dark like I did with Oak last night. I wonder if that kid held his Mom's hand almost the whole way and talked her ear off about negative numbers (Oakley is independently figuring out how negative numbers work !!??) deer hunting, and Lego creations. I wonder if that kid gave his Mom a hug before they went back into the house and said, "You're my best Mom ever." I hope she shared those sorts of moments with her little boy. When you're the Mom of that kid I think those moments mean a little more to you.

I DO hope that that Mom had an amazing Occupational Therapist for a friend who knew how to help. This year for Thanksgiving I thank God for good friends who are smarter than me and willing to share.

First Draft

2011-11-22T13:15:00.001-07:00

Lesson 12 Portfolio Assignment 5 E.1

“Choose a setting…Now write a free verse poem about theplace that effectively recreates its mood through language."

A Bedroom for theLIttles

A jumbly bumble of things great and small

Pink ruffled slippers

Lovely layers of lace

Holes in the socks

Hangers on the floor

Jammies for bedtime

Big girl panties in a pile

A cradle for the baby dolls rocking to and fro

Bunk beds top and bottom

Hidden treasures buried beneath

Rocks from rivers

Sticks from the park

Snacks saved for later

Crackers and cheese. Moldy.

Oh! That’s where the toothpastewent!

Matchy matchy flowers squared

These Dreams...

2011-11-15T13:06:00.001-07:00

There are no extensions available for the Independent Study University-Level Creative Writing Class I am taking. It's been over a year, and I have found so little time to sit down and work on it.

It seems that I have perpetually placed my dreams on a shelf entitled, "To be attended to after the house is clean, the kids are happy, the errands have been run, the church assignment has been completed, the laundry has been folded, the kids' piano has been practiced, homework has been completed, teeth have been brushed, relationships have been nurtured....etc."

And so, logically, the dreams on my shelf are rarely touched. When, in fact, I DO get around to working on that shelf, I am usually so exhausted that a half hearted effort is all I can manage.

There are many dreams on this shelf of mine. Writing is just one of them.

Sad, isn't it, that the motivation for me to kick my butt into gear and GET ER DONE is not that I want to progress, or live my dream, or develop into something more... rather, the motivation is the $439 I spent on the class and the fact that I refuse to lose that money with no credits to show for it.

So I am up to my ears in writing activities, kicking myself because I don't give my dreams more priority in my life.

I wrestle with the fact, though, that when I do put my dreams ahead of the other stuff, then my children end up watching a lot of TV, burning up braincells in front of the Wii, and generally being ignored. They fight more, make a disaster of the house, and create kitchen concoctions that I can't begin to identify.

But perhaps this would provide for more independent children in the end. Perhaps the children of dream-livers learn to pursue their own dreams and not rely on their Mother so much.

Perhaps dream-livers give up an element of control that I am unable to part with.

So much to consider.

I was given the gift of a few days of solitude the weekend before last, solitude in the form of leaving my family behind, connecting with an old friend, enjoying her children, eating large quantities of delicious food, and doing anything other than being in charge of anything.

It was lovely.

In fact, the rest and regeneration that those few days provided me will give me the umpf I need to push through these next few weeks and finish this class.

Thanks Rebecca. I am working on your portraits... in between writing assignments.

Remebering

2011-11-11T13:15:00.001-07:00

Thank you to the Veterans of this world.
Especially my favorite Veteran, Kenneth's Dad.

Three Things Thusday

2011-11-10T09:21:00.000-07:00

Bette Davis Eyes. 3 Versions.

Kim Carnes (original 80's version)

The Killers (skinny Mormon hipsters version)

Gwyneth Paltrow (every 30-something women's girl crush version, or maybe that's just me because I sort of want to be her)

What say ye, Internet?

It's no wonder I had no clue what the Lord was telling us about that one time we tried to move to Utah...

2011-11-09T17:33:00.000-07:00

A still small voice whispered to my soul on the way to the shower...
......"lock the screen before you get in."

It was, of course, referring to the screen of the computer, on which I had been engaged in much work.

Naturally I ignored the promptings of The Holy Spirit of the Lord and got in the shower.

And naturally I came back to find...

My edits were ruined
My actions were deleted
Pandora was now playing European Heavy Metal.

That'll teach me.

Ivy.

You menace.

Too bad you're so cute.

And no. I don't really think that the Lord tells me to lock my computer screen. It was, really, just my common sense, which I seem to ignore every opportunity I can.

But at least I know Ivy wants to be just like her Momma, you know, because I am always wearing tu-tu's on my head. Except, where does she get the talking on the phone thing? Weird.

I wasn't even going to tell you about this, but heck, why not....

2011-11-02T06:00:00.000-06:00

The truth of the matter is that I ran a half marathon a few weeks ago and it totally sucked....

B-Crappy Half Marathon Breakdown
Split	Time	Distance	Avg Pace
1	8:13	1	8:13	started off a bit fast in all the excitement
2	8:25	1	8:25	doing good
3	8:36	1	8:36	pace is fine
4	4:20	0.47	9:10
5	9:03	1	9:03	goal pace
6	9:06	1	9:06	knee starting to bug
7	9:23	1	9:23	knee bugging a bit more
8	8:44	1	8:44	knee in much pain so of course I went faster (!?)
9	9:34	1	9:34	knee in much more pain
10	10:49	1	10:49	walk/run in agony
11	11:10	1	11:10	give up trying to run
12	11:44	1	11:44	walk
13	11:57	1	11:57	get really pissed off at knee and life
14	7:59	0.52	15:26	walked across finish line
Summary	2:09:03	12.99	9:56

My goal was to complete the race in under 2.0 hrs, as I've not been able to beat that time since Georgia was born because of one excuse or another. After working on speed over the summer I was pretty sure I could do it. The addition of a handy dandy Garmin watch to track my pace in real time while running was also a motivator.

But my plans were thwarted.

The SI joint problem (hip) that has been haunting me for over three years completely disabled my running ability a little over half way through the race. The chiropractor (my latest assistant in the quest to remedy this ailment) says that the SI joint went out (as per usual) and because I kept running and pushing it that the 'ball and socket' of my hip became displaced too. So the lateral knee pain is actually a result of the IT band muscle that goes down along the side of the thigh being pulled incorrectly because the hip was so out of position.

So. For the first time ever I walked across a finish line. And it really really sucked.

Cue in a winter of spinning, strength training, yoga, possibly some physical therapy to help me ease back into running. I should also lay off the carbs and the pumpkin chocolate chippers. Sigh.

The Colors of My World (for now)

2011-11-01T10:47:00.000-06:00

These colors are barely holding on now, not like last week, when they were in their glory.

Bright orange

Cheerful yellow

Faded green.

These leaves reminded me of sisters. From the same tree, the same branch, even. You would expect them to be identical. Receiving equal amounts of sunlight and water, shade and wind, yet distinctly different, both beautiful and alike, but individuals just the same.

And sometimes it is nice to let your focus waver a bit and drink in a sea of deep red.

There is truly beauty all around. In fact, these images were taken just steps away from my front door.

I am reminded of Paul, who wrote to the people of Philippi from prison in Rome. He counseled them, (and here I go quoting scripture again...)

"...whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things." (Philippians 4:8)

...for I have learned, in whatsoever sate I am, therewith to be content." (Philippians 4:11)

Mostly I love his sentiments because he is writing these words of encouragement FROM PRISON, at a point in his ministry when he had pretty much led himself into a dangerous position from which he was very unlikely to escape.

So I think, if Paul, who was persecuted and imprisoned, can look for beauty and virtue in the world, if he can be content even though his life was pretty much over by then (he was likely expecting a torturous death just around the corner), well then... me, in my lovely little green house in our quaint neighborhood with a park and too many blessings to ever count, well... I can seek for the beauty and rejoice in it whenever I find it.

Thanks to my trusty Nikon, I find the beauty of life much more readily than I once did. I count my little camera and this art of photography that I will forever be learning, to be one of the great blessings of my life.

Every Year 'Bout This Time (Obligatory Costume Post)

2011-10-31T15:55:00.001-06:00

I am here to tell the world that you can dye clothing if it is not the color you want it. It's true. Hence Eden's perfectly matched Hermione Granger (ala Harry Potter) school uniform (made from altered, dyed thrift store clothing). It is also important to have friends who sew glorious fairy costumes and lend them to you. A supply of felt for last minute cat ears and tail doesn't hurt either, and don't forget to keep some boy stuff in the dress-up bin so a Ninja can be born with no effort at all.

But don't expect the Ninja to stand still with the women folk for a photograph.

I am dreading the next week of candy. My children turn into perfect heathens under the influence of all that high fructose corn syrup, and I can't help them out much in the area of candy consumption because I'd much rather make a pumpkin pie and eat the whole thing than dabble in Halloween candy....don't think I won't do it, either.

Three Things Thursday

2011-10-27T22:09:00.001-06:00

Three out takes from our DIY Fall Family Portrait session.

Last year's session was a bit hectic since all I had was the timer on my camera. Soon after that (hellish) experience, we purchased a remote for my lovely Nikon. I've used it many times during the year, and the week before our shoot took it out, set it all up again, did some trials, just to prepare for the new-improved-non-painful-fun-spontaneous-we-are-all-good-looking-and-love-each-other-so-openly-and-honestly-that-it-will-make-you-throw-up-a-little-in-the-back-of-your-mouth-then-question-your-own-family's-unity-Family-Portrait-Session that I had lined up for us this year.

So when I set up the gear and set out to implement the pre-planned location, props and poses (that look like we're just hanging out all natural, not a care in the world)... well. Of course it would be my luck that the battery of the remote was dead.

Once again we were stuck with a rather annoying running-back-and-forth ordeal, which takes a. very.long.time.

I am working on processes the images, but for now, but this is a pretty good representation of 94.2% of the images captured:

(waiting for me to set up the shot)

(watching me try to round up Oakley after setting up the shot)

(bossy Mom telling everyone to be perfect in front of a crooked camera)

But I have to say. I do really love my tripod. And from this point on, there will always be extra batteries for the remote in my gear bag. Live and learn.

The end.

From the Book on my Nightstand.

2011-10-26T10:27:00.001-06:00

Follow Up

2011-10-25T06:00:00.000-06:00

Remember yesterday, when I was chatting with you, my Faithful Seven, about the sorts of happenings that happen when I am in front of a screen of any sort?

Yes.

Well.

During that little Internet spree I allowed myself, Ivy took off. Again.

And as I was walking up and down the neighborhood calling her name, the SAME neighbor who brought her home the other day saw me. "Looking for your kids again?" (If, in your minds eye, you have pictured a smiling neighbor, you are wrong. There were no smiles).

Man oh man, did I feel like a fool. Me, the neglectful Mother of the neighborhood riff raff.

But then I found her, not to far from our house. Once again, I had just started to search in the wrong direction. I mean, what is WRONG with the Spirit of the Lord? Am I not supposed to be receiving guidance and direction in this quest to care for these precious souls I've been entrusted with? Just once I'd like to get a Heavenly voice whispering from deep within my soul..."she went that way". For Pete's sake.

So then there was a discussion at our home about running away from designated play areas and the consequences that would ensue. Here's the re-cap....

After which some drastic tickling took place.

This Stay at Home Mom Life That I have Chosen

2011-10-24T16:39:00.001-06:00

Hello? Hello? Did you wait around for me, or have you flown the coop?

I swear I've thought of at least seventeen different things to blog about this past week, but lately I have found myself playing a lot more catch with my son after school and assisting in rather complicated salt clay projects carried out by my oldest daughter. And since my Littles have decided that they will no longer nap (!!??) I find that I have little to no time during the day to sit down at the computer. When I do, something of great magnitude always takes place. Like poop. Everywhere. At the same time that a certain Ivy Bug, out riding her bike in the front gets freaked out by a dog (she's terrified of the things), and sprints her little bike all the way around to the next block and is found by neighbors sobbing on the curb because she's too afraid to come back, in case the dog is there. So the neighbors bring her back to me (at this point I've already started to search the neighborhood for her because I've long since abandoned the attempt to sit at the computer, and the poop and the pooper have been cleaned) but I was searching in the wrong direction, so the neighbor drives up to me and drops her off with her bike and is obviously not too happy with my parenting. Then the phone rings five times in succession and all of the sudden it's time for the kids to get home from school, which means I kick into full Mom mode with snacks and homework and lessons and dinner... so when the time finally comes for me to sit down and write something witty about this Stay At Home Mom Life that I have chosen, I am so exhausted that I just flop down and fall asleep in front of an episode of House while attempting to knit up a Christmas gift or two.

Now that's a run on paragraph if I've ever seen one.

Which brings to me to may hair. Currently looking like this:

As you can see, there is a drastic difference between the top layer and the rest of the hair, with some obvious root issues. The top layer is so fried, however (thanks to a really trashy hi lighting job that I paid good money for last Spring and am still cursing about), that I don't think I can continue to hi lite. And if I try to dye that french fried stuff, I fear I will end up having to shave my whole head. I could just cut it all short, but then I would not be me. Except for the few years when I went with a short bob, I've had basically the same hairstyle since high school. What would I do with myself? Short hair. The thought makes me cringe. Mostly because I think the only way I could pull off a short hairstyle with my round-ish face is if I stayed really skinny, and that just makes me feel hungry. Hungry and sad, thinking about all the pumpkin chocolate chippers I'd be missing.

Also, my bra strap will never stay up.

But speaking of Oakley (which I wasn't but since I have the time I will continue on with these matters in my life), this is from his good teacher, who has agreed to email me with daily updates of his progress.

"We had about a C kind of day. Oakley made several “gross noises” and was pretty squirrely again. He put his shirt over his head and then over the back of his chair during reading. We talked while the other kids were at lunch and then he went a little late. He didn’t like that idea very much….he seemed quiet, like he was regretting the behavior that caused his lateness. Hopefully that will keep him from repeating tomorrow"

You, like me, are likely very intrigued about this thing referred to as "gross noises". Let's hear about it from the source. Always a good place to start:

This boy will never cease to make me work. I love him for it, though, and I may end up liking him the best of all my children just because of all the work I put into him, gross noises and all.

And to finish, friends, here is a lovely river, the very river that I love to run by when the morning light allows it. Thank the Good Lord for running. What I would do without it... well... I have no idea.

My Own Personal Gallery

2011-10-17T11:02:00.000-06:00

I just can't seem to decide...

Fall Wall 1

Or...

Fall Wall 2

It's the pottery that makes the difference, you know.

But since the orangey-red soup terrine-thingy gets very little exposure, I think I'll leave it up for a while.

As if I have a single thing to add to the world of design.

But I do sort of like my Fall Wall, complete with the $7 garage sale dresser that I spent way too long scraping lead based paint off of before painting it white and adding hardware. I am sure I sustained at least a little brain damage from the task, and now, looking at the photo, I realize that I ought to have painted the inside of the broken drawer white AND I need a long single basket in the bottom rather than two small ones. But at least the children now have a place to put all of their crayons and paper and coloring books and glue. The scissors have been removed from the art dresser, however, since Georgia likes to use them to cut off her ginger curls.

The only sad part about the Fall Wall is that I had to retire the Summer Wall, which included a print of my award winning print entitled "Bee's Delight."

What's that? I forgot to tell you that a photograph of mine won a prize? Yes. Yes. I cannot tell a lie. The benevolent judges at the Palouse Empire Fair (no web page available at the moment to link to) pinned not one but TWO big fat prize ribbons on that baby "Award of Merit" and "Best of Show". The Palouse Empire Fair is a rather small thing, very quaint and Colfax-y, but I felt honored just the same. Had it been the Spokane County Fair or even the Latah County Fair, I can assure you that "Bee's Delight" would not have received as much as a sneeze. But at the Palouse Empire Fair it was a double ribbon winner which made me smile (probably a lot like Fern in Charlotte's Web smiled after the recognition at the County Fair saved Wilbur's porky little life forever).

And, just like Fern, I will save my prize winner forever, saving a place of honor in my personal art gallery for Bee's Delight next summer. I am now taking photos for next year's Fall Wall and trying to figure out what to put up for the Winter Wall.

If you happen to love photography, give yourself a little treat and print up some of your favorites to display. Even if they are not award winners like my famous Bee's Delight (there can only be so many winners, after all), they will probably still make you smile.

Three Things Thursday

2011-10-13T10:31:00.001-06:00

Three from my son's P.E. Teacher... (I send Oak with a card like this each day, and if things go well, the P.E. Teacher slaps on a sticker I provided her with).

He is always very proud to present me with a sticker when he comes home on the bus (after chewing on the card, apparently) and always very devastated when he does not earn one (such a sensitive soul).

In addition to FOUR DAYS IN A ROW of good behavior reports from his classroom teachers, I would have to say that this Momma is a very happy Momma indeed.

And please, do yourself a favor by implementing this vital life lesson: Do not stomp or pout in P.E.

This Morning

2011-10-11T10:20:00.001-06:00

I was perfectly prepared for the early morning rush. I even cut my run 2 miles short (from 6 to 4) to give me the extra time I needed for everything to go smoothly.

But somehow things got away from me, and all of the sudden it was 4 minutes before the bus was to arrive. The spelling list had mysteriously disappeared, the feet were sockless, the shoes were nowhere to be seen, the lunches were not made...and the frantic Mean Mommy Monster started to surface.

Until I told her in no uncertain terms to go back to her cave.

We found the spelling list.

We practiced the words.

I made the lunches.

Piled the children in the van, drove them to school. Only slightly late.

But there was no yelling.

Did you hear me Internet!? THERE WAS NO YELLING.

So I say this to the world of Mothers.... Life is learning. The business of Mothering is, in essence, an exercise of self control. Of becoming. Of changing. Of learning. Of growing.

How my children turn out is, ultimately, up to them. Does good Mothering always guarantee successful children? No. Does bad Mothering always result in unsuccessful children? No.

So. If the way the children turn out is NOT a measure of how you've done in this life long job of being a Mother, then what is?

Perhaps if I have changed, if I have become better, if I have learned some things and grown into something better, then I can count my experience as a Mother as a success.

And if my kids turn out okay, then I will just count that as a very nice bonus.

And for the record...my kids are turning out great so far. Even though the Littles are dressed like this in public more often than not...(taken a few minutes ago after arriving home from the post office)

Please notice Georgia's hair and feel free to roll your eyes. She loves to find scissors (which I am consistently hiding from her) and clip off little clips of curls. I find remnants of her ginger goodness in the laundry room, in the sink, on the front porch and I shed a tear with each snip. She has no one to blame for the state of her hair but herself.

Three Things Thursday

2011-10-06T22:36:00.001-06:00

Three Things to occupy my mind on a Thursday night alone...

1. Spend the entire day painting the living room, then spend the entire night lamenting the choice and wishing you could go back.

2. Consider the really good parenting advice given by Elaine Dalton during the LDS General Conference last week.

" How can a father raise a happy, well-adjusted daughter in today’s increasingly toxic world? The answer has been taught by the Lord’s prophets. It is a simple answer, and it is true—“The most important thing a father can do for his [daughter] is to love [her] mother.” By the way you love her mother, you will teach your daughter about tenderness, loyalty, respect, compassion, and devotion. She will learn from your example what to expect from young men and what qualities to seek in a future spouse. You can show your daughter by the way you love and honor your wife that she should never settle for less. Your example will teach your daughter to value womanhood. You are showing her that she is a daughter of our Heavenly Father, who loves her."

3. Contemplate sexting. Weird? Uncomfortable? Appropriate? Enticing? Fun?

R.I.P.

2011-10-05T19:14:00.002-06:00

...not that I have ever owned an apple product in my life, but I came across this quote when reading about the life of Steve Jobs who recently passed away...

“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life,” -Steve Jobs

Cozy

2011-10-04T09:17:00.004-06:00

On the morning

That is the morning

When the Cozy must be washed

There is much wailing

Crying

Deeep sorrow

A sorrow that can only be cured by the cozy

But it is in the washer

So the sorrow is big and unbearable and fills the whole house

We must snuggle for a while

A long while

Until the Cozy is

Washed

Dried

And back in the arms

Of the one who loves it most

Three Things Thursday

2011-09-29T15:13:00.002-06:00

Three from command central (my kitchen).

1. My nemesis. The counter of doom. When oh when will I be able to stick to my commitment to keep this counter top clean.....

2. The Littles, doing what Littles do best in the kitchen.

"Preschoolers experience life with all of their senses, and if you play games with them to enhance those senses, you can aid in their development. Tactile games encourage children to touch items and experience the differences in the way objects feel. They can use this information to draw conclusions about the world around them." from here (and every other child development book I've ever read).

3. Honey!

My engineer/beekeeper husband completed the current phase of his beehive project by harvesting many gallons of honey (with a little help from yours truly). Just FYI, the best place to harvest honey from the comb is in a room that is heated to about 100 F (that's 37.7 C for almost everyone else in the world besides the USA). Thus, our little locker room at the back of the house was heated to steaming hot for most of Saturday and did not cool back down completely until the next evening. So. If you are lucky enough to sample our honey someday, be warned that you may or may not also be spreading drops of our sweat onto your toast.

.
.
.

On a completely unrelated note (and probably more appropriate as a Facebook update), the Littles are currently napping. (!!??) Whatever will I do with myself? Knitting? Online shopping (to cure the case of the frumpies I've suffered with for some time now)? Eating chocolate in front of Grey's Anatomy? Ahhh. The choices are all so delicious.

It came to me in a dream....

2011-09-27T13:51:00.001-06:00

...or something.

Sometimes I make decisions regarding my children. It's a Mom thing.

For example, I had Ivy all signed up for preschool this year, but at the last minute I cancelled the registration. Weird, I know, since Eden and Oakley both went to preschool, it was good for them and good for me.

But this time I've just been super motivated to keep Ivy home with me and Georgia for one more year. Some may criticize this decision, claiming that she will be behind the others academically in Kindergarten next year, or perhaps she will not be socially able to function in the classroom. Sigh. I wish I had a crystal ball. But, to ensure that her little brain does not turn to mush between her fourth and fifth year of life we've been working on a book that I used with Eden. (I did not even attempt to use this book with Oakley as he was always too busy pooping all over everything at that stage in his life. I left the numbers and letters up to the professionals with him.)

I remember that Eden did great with the book and Ivy loves it now. There's one short lesson to do every day, it all seems well thought out by smart people who know about things such as literacy and phonetics and learning etc. To be honest, this is the only learn-to-read-at-home book I've ever worked with, but in my humble SLP/Mom opinion, it's a good one. It's a a no-brainer for a Mom like me, we just open up the book and do the daily lesson, it takes 10-15 minutes. I have a chalkboard we use to practice the letters on, and I often find Ivy practicing on her own. She loves it. I love it. We're on lesson #10... 90 to go. Will I hold out till the end? Stay tuned.

Also, I decided not to put the kids in soccer this year. It totally interfered with piano, and the 2 kids would have practice on different nights, making 4 afternoons a week of soccer practice plus Saturday games. Given all the other stuff that's going on, and the fact the Oak is having a hard time in school (which often requires me to be at the school, and always requires a de-tox session after school when no one tells him to do anything)... Well. I just couldn't do it. So I didn't. Instead we have a nice snack, work on homework, go on hikes, ride bikes, play with friends, or they waste away for an hour in front of the TV while sneaking fruit snacks from the storage room.... you know. Good wholesome family stuff. Even though I'm pretty sure I made the right choice, sometimes we drive past the soccer field while the other kids are out and I feel a pang of guilt. It may, in fact, have been a rather selfish decision not to enroll them. Who knows. Too late now. I suppose they can cry to their therapist about it in 20 years.

But here's a decision I know we can be proud of... We brought the kids along during a Meals on Wheels delivery route. I signed up for a Saturday this month since it was our church's turn, and Eden reminded me that I used to take her along the Meals on Wheels delivery routes when she was little. She was right! I did! And I can't believe she remembered! So we piled the kids in the car and did the route as a family. It took (quite a bit) longer, but the kids loved it. I loved it... especially the part when we bring the food in and I spot an incredible mid century modern armchair or sofa, pristine condition, just sitting there. I wish I could have snapped photos of the pieces, just to drool over, but that may have been rude.

(Note to self: Keep eye peeled for estate sales at certain area homes.)

And here is my Eden. My first baby, the one who made me a Mom. Every time I look at her I am dumbfound by the rapid passage of time, and reminded that the decisions I made about my kids are precious. Their time with me is short and I walk a fine balance between trying to make the right choices and teaching them to choose for themselves.

So who knows if I'm choosing the right things. I hope I am. In some cases, I am sure that this is so. But more often than not I just listen to the best that is in me, pray for help, and wait to see what happens.

Three Things Thursday

2011-09-22T06:00:00.000-06:00

Three items from my inbox:

1. Library Notice

First Overdue Notice. The following item(s) is(are) overdue:
Going to the potty / PS 649 09/06/2011
You can go to the potty / PS 649 09/06/2011

These are books that have been read incessantly while a certain red head was sitting on the Dora potty seat, waiting for a tinkle.

And lo and behold, many many many many many many many days later, the tinkle F.I.N.A.L.L.Y made it into the potty.

So, that certain red head is now a proud supporter of the 'panties all over the floor movement' (see previous post). Ahh. the privileges and liberty that come from having control of one's bladder.

Behold: The potty pee-er herself! (Still working on how to discreetly photoshop eyebrows in.)

This one I like to call "Potty Pee-er on the swing eating and apple and wearing clothing that does not match. Actually, nothing she wears ever matches... again, see previous post about changing clothes all the live long day."

Sadly, I must report that there has been no sign of poop in the potty. I still have to put a diaper on her after dinner so she can do her business before bed. What is it with poop that is so difficult anyway?

But, unfortunately for the library and my wallet, the potty books are lost in the barrens (or probably in their room).

2. Note(s) from teacher(s)

We had a pretty good day today. He was much better with the pencils and didn’t refuse to do his work. He made one “gross” noise and lost one minute of recess and that was it J Thanks!!

My Oakley is having a rough go of school. Apparently all that wandering about aimlessly in the yards of our neighbors and fishing in their decorative ponds this summer did not teach him how to sit still and listen in school. (!!??) To help him along in his educational journey I have requested daily email reports about his behavior so things between school and home can be consistent. His teachers have been more than cooperative and I think things are going to work out well (otherwise I will have to home school, to which I firmly declare: HELL NO.) The above letter was my favorite one from last week.

3. A link for this friendly jab at the Mormons... (<--click here)

Apparently we, the Mormons, are going to be all over Network TV soon in the form of commercials telling the world how normal/cool/diverse/approachable/pleasant and non-polygamous we are.

I guess they want to clear up misconceptions, let the world know who we are... or something.

Seriously, though, if the world wanted to know about how normal/cool/diverse/approachable/pleasant and non-polygamous we are, they should just come to my blog. I mean, really. Just look at my clever little tag line "formerly barren, currently busy." Priceless. I really think they should make a commercial about me.

My Million Dollar Idea

2011-09-21T09:17:00.000-06:00

The room of the Littles is a sight to behold (pictured here after just being cleaned up that very morning).

Since they change their clothing no less than seven times per day, and since folding and returning unsoiled clothing to the drawers is not a priority in their lives... well... There are skirts and dresses and shirts and shorts strewn all over kingdom come. And panties. Piles and piles of panties.

Every now and then I actually enter the room and clean it up. Sort through the clean and dirty, return things to their proper drawers, sift through crayons and baby dolls and old fruit snacks.

Which leaves me with the problem those little panties. How exactly is one to tell which are clean and which are dirty?

Let me warn you in advance, just so that you don't continually make the same mistake that I do.

Don't use your sniffer as a sorter.

Just don't do it.

It is better to wash them all than to try to distinguish the pee pee panties from the clean panties. Because PEE-YEW.

Really, there should be some sort of spray a Mom can use. Like on CSI, that luminol stuff they use to detect blood. A nice Febreeze scented spray, for the sole purpose of pee detection. Spray it on and sort. Found at your local-ish Wal Mart, on sale now for $2.37.

Shovel

2011-09-20T07:48:00.001-06:00

Sadness is a rather large part of my life these days.

Have you ever had a sadness that got buried away for a while, maybe even many years? A sadness that has become indistinguishable under piles of earth, layers of denial and the business of life. Gratefully forgotten, impersonal, distanced sadness that is not much of a big deal since it's been so skillfully hidden away.

But when a shovel comes and unearths what you thought would be rotting remains of the sadness, you find that it is still there. Fresh. Real. Hurting. And sad.

It's not so much the shoveling it up that is the problem... it's the sadness that was always there to begin with.

I can't really share with the Internet the reasons for this sadness. Just that the cause is out of my control, but affects me deeply. But the reason doesn't really really matter, I mean, don't we all have some sort of secret sadness, buried and hiding?

So how does a busy stay-at-home Mom of four young children deal with this resurfaced sadness?

Well. First of all, she dresses it up like anger toward the silliest of things... bikes left in the yard, a miscommunication, an old fury. This mask is thrilling, really. It is a pissed-off kind of anger accompanied by silent swearing and red hot sentiment, adrenaline pumping.

But when I finally get a moment to sit down in a peaceful place, like at church, the mask of anger melts away. Fickle anger, you can never be counted on. It's an ill fitted disguise for that deep lingering sadness that surfaces in the form of warm tears continually rolling down my face, frustration and grief.

There are some good times to cry about sad things (contrary to popular opinion, church is not a good time for this). But running up a very steep hill, or pushing hard and fast in the safe darkness of the Spin class...these are good places. In the arms of Mr. Workman is also a very good place to cry, and who knows where that sort of activity will end up.....

It is true that I have a rather feisty soul, but I think that if I just let myself cry at appropriate intervals then I can avoid getting so teeming mad.

(it is interesting to shoot monochromatic things in color. the rocks in the previous shot above were in the direct evening sun which added more warmth, but these ones were shot on the same shore on the same evening but during a cloudy period. I did not change this one to black and white, though I could trick you and say that I did. But I digress from my sad sad state of misery and woe, and why ever would I want to do that...)

So. After thirty-six years of walking the good earth I have decided that I will not bury this sadness again. I will learn to accept that it is a part of me. I will learn that I can enjoy the beauty of my life while simultaneously feeling the sad. Thirty-six has already been designated as the year of embracing all the parts that make me me, so it is only fitting to add the whole hearted embrace of all the experiences around me that made my life the miracle that it is... The good, the bad, the sad and the happy.

I think this means thirty-six will result in a few more wrinkles than I had originally anticipated. Dammit.

Taking Care of His Business

2011-09-15T16:25:00.001-06:00

The phone call from my friend last Sunday evening indicated that my (naughty, exploring, curious, exasperating, unmanageable, cute, cuddly, active sweet) boy had discussed his Labor Day plans with her. He reminded her that there was no school the next day... "Monday would be the perfect day for us to come and ride Danny. Can you set that up for us." (or something like that).

I, of course, accepted her offer for a fun family field trip to her place. When I hung up from that Sunday evening phone call I laughed and laughed... because only a few hours earlier, another guy from church randomly showed up at our door with industrial grade fabric and skeins of rope in his hands, all geared up for a project.

"I had a conversation with your son last week. He told me that your backyard hammock was broken and he asked me to please come and fix it."

So now we have some lovely memories of horseback riding...

...and not one, but two really great hammocks in which I can
~~ignore yard work~~ relax for seven whole minutes at a time. Ahhhh.

All because of my boy, who loves everyone with all of his (naughty, exploring, curious, exasperating, unmanageable, cute, cuddly, active sweet) little heart and has the confidence to assume that everyone loves him back just as much.

(I have a constant prayer in my heart that I can raise this boy up right... that I can nurture the confidence that shines from his eyes, that I can build him up and help him be his best... but that I can also teach him to be a productive member of society that does not collapse into a screaming lump when asked to put his jammies on. I mean, COME ON. You have been going to bed every night of your life for SEVEN YEARS. It really should not be that much of a surprise.)

Three Things Thursday

2011-09-08T06:00:00.006-06:00

Three Green, courtesy of my tried and true 50mm 1.8... such a simple little lens.

Summer apples came on last week and I inherited 4 buckets full. After letting the children have their fill (with an apple war here or there) I spent all of Tuesday morning saucing them up.

But the sauce is rather bitter, despite a fair bit of sugar and cinnamon. So now two ginormous bowls of the stuff sit in limbo in the fridge. I need an independent taste tester to tell me if it is can-able or not. I hate to see all that sticky messy work go down the drain. But I don't want to can it if it is crap, as crap ought not be canned.

'Crap Ought Not Be Canned'

Definitely vinyl letter-worthy.

Yes. It is true. She has actually peed in the Potty.

2011-09-07T01:55:00.000-06:00

There were puppies for sale at the grocery store. In the parking lot, of course. I'm not so sure the staff of the local Rosauers would be too happy about puppies on the shelves. Especially not on the weekend of the Fair, they will be far too busy selling donuts and groceries to be herding puppies about. Because everyone who is anyone comes to the Palouse Empire Fair, and all of these good folks will have to stop at Rosauers for something or other, since this is the only store there is. Well, not really. There is the Thrifty Grandmother's, or the Quilted Moose, and for prescriptions and over priced kitchen ware, be sure to check out Tick Klock Drugs. But for anything useful, it's Rosauers.

Except that they don't usually sell puppies. And I really sort of wanted a puppy today, after taking a moment to pick one up and snuggle the little thing. He nuzzled right up into my neck and after a bit of sniffing about he gave me a good lick. Sweet little guy.

But then I remembered. Poop. And since Georgia Ann has officially peed in the potty THREE times this week. Well... I remembered that on the horizon is a day when my personal contact with the poop of another living being will be greatly diminished (and one day, perhaps abolished.). And I know, I just KNOW that a puppy would mean poop for me. Poop in the yard, poop on the shoes, poop in the house, poop on the street. Poop. The bigger the dog, the bigger the poop, and these little guys would have grown up to be biggies with big fat dog poops all over my world.

So the little pup with the gentle lick was placed back into the crate with his ten siblings (!!?), and I went on my merry way to purchase such necessities as... Dreyers Slow Churned Mint Chocolate Chip Ice cream. It tastes best on the first day, you know, so it's necessary (only on the first day) to have twice as much. This little fact would probably explain the several extra libbers that need to be run off my butt, but they will likely just stay there and be added upon by the multitudes of pumpkin chocolate chippers I plan to bake and eat this fall.

They will be baked, I assume, as an after school snack.

Speaking of which... Ivy has been a great helper in this regard. She loves to be in charge of things (where does she get this from, pray tell), so giving her the task of assembling the snack for when the Biggles come home gave her a thrill of delight. On this particular day we had... crackers, cheese, veggies, ranch. Other examples of our snacks so far have been... smoothies, apples with Nutella, Lucky Charms with milk. There. You see. Snack is not so hard after all.

PS - Clear out your pantries, folks, because The Rosauers 13-Hour sale is on THIS THURSDAY. It's cereal this time, so BE THERE EARLY! Here's a tip... go at 9:20 for the cereal sale, then get out just in time for the Friday morning opening of The Thrifty Grandmother's. If you're lucky, you will arrive at the Grandma Shop (that's what the locals call it) a few minutes before it opens and you can line up with all the other keeners, that is always great fun. We are quite the Colfax, I'll tell you what.

Too School for Cool

2011-09-04T17:49:00.000-06:00

On the first day of school there were new shoes.

And new backpacks.

And there were butterflies to be chased.

This Mom has one goal this year.... (don't you think September is the best month for goal setting? To turn a new leaf. Sure, we all do it in January, but September is a bonus 'new start' at the end of the year. A time to re-evaluate, do something different, maybe get a little better. Hooray for September!)

My goal is to be IN. THE. MOMENT. when it matters the most.

When the kids walk into the front door I will be...

Present.

Available.

Snack -in-hand.

Ready to hear the stories, talk about the day.

I will not be..

on the phone
blogging
editing photos
catching up on classes
doing chores
watching a show
making a list
reading email
shopping for this or that
cooking a meal

There are many other moments during the day when those things will be my activities of choice.

But when the kids get home from school, I will BE. THERE. (with a snack, after the manner of my dear friend Shannon, the queen of after school snacks... who went ahead and moved to Las Vegas, which thing has caused me much sorrow).

That is all.

Except for this....

"Moments are the molecules that make up eternity." Love that.

Three Things Thursday

2011-09-02T09:24:00.003-06:00

Three tips to remember for next summer...

1. Always make sure there is a case of water bottles and a non perishable snack in the van. You never know when a quick errand will turn into an impromptu field trip.

2. Remember that right around August 1st things will start to go a little nutso. At this point, you will have been with all of the children every single day all day long for over 7 weeks. It is natural that you will be a little annoyed with each other. Going on vacation around this time was the perfect solution.

3. Regarding feeding the family: Find 5 easy meals. Stock cupboards and freezer with everything you need to make those meals 3 or 4 times over. Have a list for the perishables required so you can quickly restock without the mental effort of dreaming up a whole new grocery list. On that list should also be included the regular snack and lunch items. You see, grocery shopping with all 4 children is a nightmare, and trying tocome up with new dinner ideas while also running B-Happy Summer Camp is not easy. Save involved meals for the school year. Also, get the kids to make some meals themselves. They did breakfast and lunch this year, perhaps next year it's time for some dinner action.

(a refector and an assistant to hold it would have been useful with this shot, to add some light to her face. Note to Self... bring photography assistant along on all outings.)

ps - I realize this is Friday and I'm doing a Thursday post. I need to get back on the blogging wagon sometime! Now or never.

Also.... our Summer 2011 song... rather catchy. The kids loved it. Don't listen too long, though, because that pumped up kicks line will be running through your read for three days.

Transformation

2011-08-28T05:25:00.001-06:00

This was our kitchen at the beginning of the summer... Well. Actually, it's a photo from when we were trying to sell the house. The kitchen has not been even close to this clean for many many moons.

The dark cabinets were starting to get rather ominous. Depressing. We needed a change. I struggled between deepening the dark to a more modern looking dark (to match the rest of the wood and molding in the house) and going all white (thus requiring me to replace all the molding and doors and closets in the entire house). I knew I could not really afford the all-white approach, but I did not really want a dark kitchen anymore.

But the miracle of the internet taught me some things. Like the fact that the cabinets did not, in fact, need to match all the other wood in the house. I saw this kitchen below and I started to have faith that I could have white cabinets without needing to replace the rest of the wood in the house. Since, really, I rather like the rest of the wood in the house. It is streamlined, a handsome dark brown, everything is in good condition.... Sigh. I was very happy when I found this photo.

So I prepped the cabinets and Mr. Workman sprayed them. It took a LOT longer than we thought it would, but this was necessary to do a good job. The time and energy paid off, though, because they look great. I did not, however, clean off the fridge for the photo. It is terribly cluttered, but that's how it always is. The counter of doom, however, was clean. At the time.

As an added bonus I didn't even have to purchase new hardware, though it was a close call. I had filled an order online for new stuff, but before I actually ordered, I decided to give the economical approach a try... I took the 70's scroll portion off of the knobs, laid the nobs and hinges on a plastic drop cloth in the front yard, and got busy with my mad spraypainting skillz.

One $7 can of oil rubbed bronze spray paint and an hour later, I had updated cabinet hardware!

We left the area under the bar unpainted, just like in the inspiration photo. Functionally this was a good choice, because little feet can scuff up a white surface very quickly. The darker color hides the wear and tear. Esthetically this was a good choice because the brown under the bar ties in the dark trim and doors in the rest of the house. Continuity. Ha. Look at me acting like I know what I'm talking about in the realm of interior decorating. Do not be fooled. I am still lost when it comes to interiors

But I do love my vintage hot pads, hand crocheted and framed, as you can see. I found the last 2 round ones (bottom right) at an estate sale last week. They were EXACTLY what I needed. Same style of crochet as the others, same colors even, but different patterns. This find was a tender mercy from the Lord, I kid you not. (The others were from a local estate sale a few years ago. In my imagination, the women who made these were in the same coffee group, and they shared supplies to make the little doo dads they needed for their home. I can just imagine them crocheting and discussing the wheat harvest, the state of Colfax, circa 1920, their chidlren and their husbands. These remnants of local local homemakers from the past make smile every time I see them).

Mr. Workman spent (almost all of) last Saturday putting up the lights over the bar. I think they make a big difference, the icing on the cake.

I also think I have a really great husband.

So. There you have it. Our updated kitchen. It will be most lovely during our long grey winter... the bright white cabinets and the brighter paint color I used for the walls will make things a little more cheery come November...December...January....February....March.......

The Colors of my World (for now...they will change again soon).

2011-08-23T21:26:00.001-06:00

From my email:

"Whenever I see your lovely Colfax I wish we lived there."

To which I reply...

"I wish you lived here too."

At Wit's End

2011-08-22T22:30:00.000-06:00

Country Evening

The sweet simplicity of a summer evening in the country. <--click here, or logo above.

Real Life.

Real Moments.

Real Connections.

Current Lists

2011-08-18T16:56:00.000-06:00

Summer projects I still need to finish:

- paint dining room (only edging left)
- paint hallway
- refinish little dresser, to be used for children's craft supplies
- stain photo shelves to match the rest of the wood round here
- put up photo shelves
- print and display photos from my collection
- update and tweak photography website design
- finish Creative Writing class
- find better suited dining room chairs on a budget
- photograph my new white cabinets, the new photo shelves with photos, the new dining set up, and show it to you

I really don't think these things are going to get done when I thought they would.

They will be either (a) ignored or (b) added to the Fall list of current projects

- baby book for Ivy (shhhh... don't tell. It's for Christmas)
- baby book for Georgia (ditto)
- Christmas knitting for each child. Hats? Scarves? Mittens? Can't decide.
-DIY family photo shoot for us
- Halloween party
- Bookshelves for living room (this is actually on Kenneth's list, since he will be building. On my list is the 'lovingly encourage the building process' part)

But isn't this a lovely bee?

Yes.

I thought so too.

Or maybe I prefer this one... the composition is a little more to my liking. But without the annoying B stamp at the bottom. I mean, really.

In fact, one or the other of these will be displayed on the photos shelf... after I stain it. And hang it. And send the images to be printed.

The good news is that school supply shopping is done, as is new shoe shopping. This afternoon we will go through the clothes to determine what needs to be purchased. And I say THANK THE GOOD LORD IN HEAVEN for old navy (dot) com. Taking my children clothes shopping in person is just too much drama for this Momma.

ps - When I do get around to tweaking my photography site, I will include a gallery with ordering options if ever you want prints of the silly things I snap photos of. Since I've had numerous requests along this line, I've decided to go ahead and include it with the new website. If it ever gets done, that is.

pps - oops. Just realized it is Thursday. I suppose I could go back and make this post into a Three Things Thursday, but you will understand if I just leave it as is and continue with the back to school prep.

Aspen Grove Family Camp 2011

2011-08-15T18:21:00.000-06:00

Once upon a time there was a Mom and two Littles who were camping with the Dad and the Biggles in cabin #46. It was just down the steps from the bathroom and right in the shadow of the lovely Mount Timpanogas. That is in Utah. Just in case you were wondering.

After many frolics and several meals and much dirt, the time came that the Littles needed a bath. But there was not a bath in the bathroom down the steps. Just a shower.

The Mom prepared everything. The water was running so it would be nice and warm. The towels were waiting, the PJs and the tooth brushes and the shampoo and the towels and the soap were all set out in the green tiled camping bathroom down the path from cabin #46.

Everything was ready. There was nothing to fear.

However, when the time came to take a shower, the Littles revolted. There were creepy spiders in the shower, and scary moths on the wall. The shower was too hot and too cold and too hard and not enough. All at the same time. They refused to get wet. They were crying. A lot.

So the Mom (who had not planned to join the Littles in the shower) dutifully stripped off her clothes and hopped into the camping shower with the Littles. She rub a dub dubbed them till they were as clean and shiny as is possible when three human beings attempt to shower together in a camping shower.

The Mom exited the shower first, being that there were only 2 small towels. She quickly dried off, thew on her clothes then asked the bigger of the Littles to please turn off the shower water so that they could get all cozied up in their jammies.

But the bigger of the Littles refused, having been paralyzed once again by the presence of spiders and moths and all such camping shower things. The refusal was intense, and involved terrified screaming and big fat crocodile tears.

So the Mom turned off the shower, in her clothes, and got rather wet doing so.

The fear that had taken over the mind and heart of the Littles consumed them during the entire drying, dressing, and teeth-brushing process. It was rather torturous for everyone involved. And on the way back up the stairs, the littlest of the Littles tripped into the dirt.

Cabin #46 was warm and cozy, a welcome haven after such a shower. Yet, just as the Mom and the Littles returned, the bigger of the Littles began a gyrating version of the potty dance. She had to go NOW.

"Why didn't you go in the bathroom!!?" exclaimed the Mom.
"Betuse dere were piders!" replied the biggest of the Littles.

By the gyrations and jumping associated with this particular potty dance, it was obvious that there was not a second to spare. Rather than risk the long trip back down the stairs and a muddy dirty pee accident, the Mom arranged for the biggest of the Littles to pee in the bushes beside cabin #46. Panties were removed, jammies were held up, and the biggest of the littles was able to pee.

And wouldn't it be, on an evening such as this, that the fountain of pee from the biggest of the Littles was delivered with such force that it exited in a perfect arch, and was deposited right smack dab on top of the foot of the Mom. Who was helping the biggest of the Littles hold up her jammies.

So there it is, the simple truth that there is never a vacation from being a Mom. Even where there are cousins to play with, planned activities for children to attend, meals cooked, served and cleaned up by other people, a lovely swimming pool, great little parks, breathtaking mountain roads to run and beauty abounding every which way.... Even in a place like this, a Mom is still a Mom, and if there is a foot to be peed on, it will surely be hers. And it just so happens that this particular Mom (who knows that God invented the Jumbo Costco pack of wipes just for situations like this) would have it no other way.

Three Things Thursday

2011-08-11T07:02:00.000-06:00

Three pieces of evidence that I am more like my Mom than I ever hoped to admit...

1. I will frequently take the long way home, just to enjoy the peace of sitting in the drivers seat, all the children buckled up and no immediate demands pressing at me from every which way.

2. I have been known to lock myself in the bathroom to brush my teeth.

3. I take FOREVER to get out of the checkout at the store... organizing the stuff back into my purse, getting my keys out, making sure my purse is all zipped up. It's absolutely MADDENING if you are the one waiting for such a slow poke, and it's even worse when I AM THE SLOW POKE.

Love you, Mom. Thanks for the great visit!

And a Very Yellow Wednesday to You!

2011-08-10T06:00:00.000-06:00

Swim Team!

2011-08-08T10:12:00.005-06:00

Some things could be said about Swim Team this year...

Like the fact that Oakley did not ever learn to swim across the pool without stopping.

That Oakley spent a good portion of many practices shivering by the side of the pool.

Or that Eden did not qualify for the County meet in any events and was only chosen to participate in the relay when she was the last possible option available.

And these things are true.

Some other things could also be said about Swim Team this year...

That Oakley understands the differences between Freestyle, Backstroke, Butterfly and Breast Stroke and can perform (rather comically) these strokes fairly well when asked to do so.

Or that Eden started off the season not able to swim across the length of the pool, but now participates in Swim Meets in two strokes (Freestyle and Back Stroke).

That Oakley progressively spent more and more time in the pool until, at the end, he participated in the 90-minute practice from start to finish.

That Eden improved her time in both strokes by at least 5 seconds by the end of the season.

That my older kids are now confident swimmers and I don't have to worry about them in the deep end any more.

I can also mention that they went to practice every morning, rain (YES, RAIN!) or shine. Wind, cold, hot, sunny... they were there, and they participated with all their little mights. They were exhausted after, and slept very well all through July because their little bodies were just. so. tired.

That I was a proud Momma, cheering my girl at every meet, and so excited when she finished each heat. Even if she was not the first. Or second. Or fourth. Sometimes she was the last.

That I was happy and fulfilled when she emerged from the pool, smiling. Feeling accomplished and proud of herself for what she did.

There is a lot I can learn from this experience, watching my kids learn something, being so proud of them, even though compared to everyone else the really didn't shine very brightly.

Life is more about individual, personal learning and progression. Am I better than I was yesterday? Have I learned to do something more effectively? Can I make a mistake and learn from it, rather than wallow in it? Can I be happy with my personal path in life without looking around too much to see how my path compares to the path of others?

So much to learn, from these children of mine, and so fun to watch it all.

Eleven Countries, One Minute.

2011-08-06T12:16:00.000-06:00

Don't you kinda wish you were him!?

Three Things Thursday

2011-08-04T06:00:00.003-06:00

Three Poems.

The Subject Matter: Things I never want to forget about my Georia Ann, my Two-Two.

Limerik

My sweet stubborn girl Little Red

She loves to be tucked into bed

Absolutely messy

Positively dressy

Never lets a brush touch her head

Haiku

Must have her Cozy

Inseperable from Ivy

Kisses and hugs still

Cinquain

Freckles

Headstrong Determined

Bounce Squeal Sing

More oatmeal than Mom

Two

Our Neck of the Woods

2011-08-02T09:59:00.000-06:00

Today's field trip is to the Water Park, a 45-minute drive one way.

When I want to go to Target, I plan 1 hour and 15 minutes to get there.

Culturally diverse culinary experiences are limited to Sol Vallarta's Mexican Cuisine and Arby's (they have that new fandangled Greek inspired wrap, you know.)

But this:

Is what I see when I am out and about.

So I'm okay with it.

Also, I find it incredibly charming that some of the small school districts here on the Palouse are delaying the start of school by at least a week.

Wanna know why?

Because the wheat crop is late this year, what with winter lasting an extra 6 weeks, and cooler summer temperatures and all. (I am sure if you go down to the local coffee spots you will hear a much more detailed account of exactly which weather has affected what, about the progress of the legumes and the growth of the wheat. You may even a thing or two about wheat rust.)

So, yes, many schools will not be starting until well into September because all those fine young people need to work harvest.

If school not delayed, the halls will be empty.

Because it's harvest.

And so goes the drama of a wheat farming community.

A Story for a 7-Year Old. And a Neighbor.

2011-08-01T16:15:00.000-06:00

Your Birth Father, (who was very tall... very very tall... taller even than your Dad) told us this story on the day we met him, the very same day we met you (seven years ago). It's about him, when he was a little boy...

No one could find him, and he was only two years old!

They looked everywhere, in the house, in the yard. They searched up and down the road and called the neighbors.
Finally, his Dad went on a little walk down by a creek.
And there he was. Two years old. Fishing.

There are parts of you that come from people I barely know, and I wonder if your love of fishing is one of them... so many things to wonder about when a boy like you is the boy that I love.

When I hear the doorbell ring these days, I feeling of dread washes over me, for I fear it will be yet another neighbor, coming to tell me of your summer explorations in their yard. Especially the neighbors with ponds. Neighbors with ponds who come to do the door with a suspicious looking fish hook, claiming that they found it by their pond and they are pretty sure it belongs to you.

I would like to tell them the story from your Birth Father, tell them that this is in your blood, and you need this stuff like you need the air you breath. Not to make excuses. Of course not. I just want them to understand you better.

I also want to tell them that our most recent heart-to-heart was a vocabulary lesson focused on the word 'tresspassing'. Because I want to teach you what is right. I want you to think with that clever head of yours and make good choices on your own. This Momma of yours can't be with you every second of the day, so I want to teach you to do it right on your own.

Mostly because I love you.

SOOO much.

Happy Birthday, my sweet fisherman.

At Wit's End

2011-07-29T06:00:00.000-06:00

Frogs, snails and puppy dog's tails...

Some cute boys, children of a dear friend who has moved away. This seems to be a trend here... dear friends moving away. So sad. But photos bring back memories and smiles even when the heart is heavy.

Three Things Thursday

2011-07-28T20:42:00.000-06:00

Three of me trying...

It came to me the other day (inspiration? indigestion? either way.....) that in order to have a happier summer with the kids I need to give them more independence.

In the kitchen, this means they can (sometimes) make their own breakfast and (most of the time) make their own snacks. It means that even though I don't usually make bread sticks with pizza that I go ahead and make up some extra dough so that my oldest can do the sticks all by herself.

I don't have photos of other independent things... but there is a lot of packing your own swim bag, doing chores around the house that actually matter (Oakley actually vacuumed his own room today), and letting Eden 'babysit' while I work on house projects (she is in charge of the Littles, what they eat, what they do, what they watch)...

So. This is me trying to do a little better, teach them a little more. This is me breathing very deeply at the increased messes that independence makes, sitting patiently in the car waiting for the kids to get their things together so we can leave, biting my tongue when the babysitting snack is Nutella. And nothing else.

Baby steps. Baby steps.

(ps.... see the sneak peak of the new **white** cabinets!! I will post another photo later, when the kitchen is clean. So.... probably never. Just kidding. I will clean it up just for you and snap some shots.)

Dear Internets

2011-07-28T16:08:00.000-06:00

I am sooooo sorry I have let you down this summer.

Things have been busy and chaotic and I have neglected you.

I have about seven posts half written in my head, several photos partly web ready, a few stories that I don't want to forget, and a little boy who has grown to my shoulders and turned seven years old TODAY. And there is a swim meet in 30 minutes that I know I'm going to be late for.

There is a TTT brewing, but will have to be posted later.

Mostly I feel bad because our summer is going undocumented, so we're just going to forget that it even happened.

I seem to remember summer vacation being a much more relaxed, carefree time as a child.

At Wit's End

2011-07-26T08:29:00.002-06:00

Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice

Inspired.

2011-07-24T01:15:00.000-06:00

"We don't have the slightest notion of the thing He means to make of us." C. S. Lewis

“Once we turn our lives over to the Lord we discover that He can do far more with us than we could ever do for ourselves.” E. T. Benson

Three Things Thursday

2011-07-21T15:20:00.000-06:00

Three from people watching at an amusement park....

So many thoughts and questions raced through my head as I watched the youth from this conservative group make their way through the perils of Silverwood Theme Park...

Though all the adult women from this group (and the young girls) had their heads fully covered, these young ladies all threw their bonnets off the moment they broke away from the adult-supervised group.

Is this a sign of concern for mothers and fathers in this community? The first step down a steep and slippery slope of doom? Would wise mothers in the group smile an nod, remembering the days when they themselves would dare to let their kerchief drop, but know that deep down inside the girls knew what was right and would let this bit of rebellion work through their systems and be unscathed by it all?

Was this actually teenage rebellion or just feeling a little too warm?

Who do you suppose the leader of this bunch is?

What is this conservative group that, along with pioneer petticoats and farm boy trousers, allows for Chaco and Keene sandals, designer sunglasses, and MTV-quality strutting?

Trust me. There was plenty of strutting with this bunch of kids.

And what do you suppose these girls are chatting about (in a language that sounded German), while perusing the body art.... would they like to get some done? Perhaps gawking at the foolish things people pollute their bodies with? Are they envious? Curious? Appalled? Shopping for some body art of their own?

It was all I could do not to run over, introduce myself, and begin asking them all sorts of intruding questions. Had it not been for the possible language barrier, I am sure I would have.... well... maybe not RUN over. I'd have encouraged the Littles to meander over in their general direction, then chase after them, pretending that they had ran away from me, then 'accidently' bumped one of the girls and THEN started all my probing questions.

Man.

People watching has never been so good.

Did I just admit that we thoroughly enjoy the Mormon Taberbacle Choir? Golly Gee. I did.

2011-07-18T23:34:00.001-06:00

My benevolent son spared lillies this year. Maybe it's because the Mormon Tabernacle Choir has been rocking that one hymn "Consider the Lillies of the Field" during our Sunday Morning tradition of Music and the Spoken Word.

Well. He considered them, did not maim them, and I was glad. For the past few years they've been hacked down by light sabers, ninja kicks and baseball bats. But this year only the lowly rhubarb came to this sad end, and it wasn't really sad at all since we just harvested the remains and made jam.

Rather than destroy innocent blooms, he has put his time and effort into the discovery that urine, when left to fester for weeks on end, will turn deep dark brown and grow nasties on the top. This fact has been scientifically proven in our house, courtesy of the funky pot I put on a shelf in Oakley's room, in an attempt to be home decor-ish (why do I even bother, I mean, really). I wondered what that pee smell was. I did the pee sniff test on every item in the drawers, washed the bedding, checked the floor for wet spots. And nothing but the stench of pee remained. Finally the boy fessed up and showed me the pot 'o pee.

His father says that he did pee experiments as a young boy too... like peeing in the same toilet for days and days without flushing, just to see if he could fill the toilet up with the stuff. The results: he could not. But it did start to grow stuff.

And there you have it. Maybe my son is normal after all. Frankly, I'm not so sure.

With this, friends, I must leave you with something beautiful to remember so you won't be smelling the putrid stench of phantom pee all night.

Colfax Colfax Colfax

2011-07-13T23:46:00.000-06:00

My Colfax.

My little little Colfax.

We've been a pretty Colfax-y family this summer.

A lot of the local pool.

A lot of the local parks.

A lot of chasing my son around the neighborhood, trying to figure out which house he's disappeared into and feeling like crap because I can't seem to create the kind of environment that he wants to stay in.

Trips to the library.

Enjoying the yard.

There have been a few field trips here and there, but not like I thought there would be.

What is going on you ask? Why are we boring Colfax home bodies?

I don't quite know.

Maybe it's that the Biggles are on the swim team, a hefty time commitment. Maybe it's our kitchen project that's keeping me here, or the fact that I am never ever caught up on anything. Ever.

With all the Colfaxing we've been up to, I did manage to back into a perfectly innocent, unsuspecting, stationary vehicle the other day. The Stinky White Van now needs a new rear door. As for Kenneth's trusty red Subaru... well... as it turns out, Subaru's do not hold up so well against rogue highway running deer on a pitch black country road. And they say nothing ever happens here. Well. It just goes to show....

So, it's just Colfax for now. Except when it isn't.

PS - You may have already noticed, but posting is going to be light around here, at least for the next few weeks of glorious summer while I'm trying to keep up with my children and the yard and the photos and the classes and tthe home improvement...well... Like I said. I am never caught up on anything anymore. Ever.

Summer Luvin'

2011-07-08T09:03:00.002-06:00

You see, the other day I had worked myself up into a frenzy. The sort of frenzy I could very possibly pull out the SSRI's for. Too many things to do. Not enough time to do it. Snippy, stressed, over committing myself, planning for seven different things at once, up late frantically editing photos and making lists and cleaning up and throwing together Morning Glory Muffins so we could have the perfect healthy delicious snack for a long day in Spokane to shop and run errands that were rather unnecessary, to be honest.

And then my frenzied self stuck my hand INTO. THE. FOOD. PROCESSOR. WHILE. RUNNING. (to dislodge an offending carrot, naturally).

While running cold water over my injured finger (thank the Good Lord I didn't lose the bloody thing.... ha. No pun intended...but it was rather bloody).... I was left with the realization that I had let myself get way too involved in whatever it was that was soooo very important. Soooo very taxing and sooo very significant.

Mostly, with the tip of my finger grated off and half a finger nail sacrificed to the Food Processor God, I felt foolish. Silly. Snapped back into reality by the throbbing finger tip pumping blood into the basin of the avocado green sink. Reminded that none of the things on the mental list swirling in my head really mattered that much. Reminded that I didn't have to do it all. Actually, I didn't have to do any of it, not really.

So I accepted Kenneth's offer to help with a few things, I dropped a bunch of crap off the silly list. I finished making the geedee muffins (since the carrots were grated already) and I went to bed, resolved to lighten up.

To enjoy.

To relax.

To be not unduly concerned about anything.

The results: A perfectly perfect (even though many things fell through and/or were forgotten) family camp out. Good friends. Good food. Good nap. Good play.

In the future I certainly hope I can recognize the signs of unnecessary worry and frenzy before I actually lose my precious little digits forever.

Three Things Thursday

2011-07-07T18:29:00.000-06:00

More than Three of the 4th of July....

Last year at this time we were moving about the country, Summering in Portland, preparing for a life in Utah. Moving on, moving ahead, getting as close to a Target as physically possible.

Last year at this time I was pretty sure that leaving Colfax was the right thing to do.

I wondered for a while what I was supposed to have learned from our little sojourn across the West. I still can't come up with anything of substance. A wise friend suggested, though, that perhaps I had some lessons to learn coming back.

I concur with this sentiment. Though I've not voiced it much on my B-Happy blog, there have been some intense personal growing pains that came with our move back to the Palouse. Too personal, really, to share, but growing pains just the same. It has been (is currently) a rather steep learning curve for me to tackle. Yes, wise friend, the learning most certainly has come after returning.

So. On July 4th 2011, our family showed up at the little community fireworks display. There were neighbors from the county mulling around, familiar faces enjoy the summer evening together. It was a simple little evening. We missed the musical portion... some banjos and fiddles revving it up for the Birthday of the Nation. We missed the ice cream and hamburgers. We missed the Quilt Show.

This year, though, as we sat down together on our homemade picnic blanket and enjoyed the simplicity that is small town life... this year I was filled with an overwhelming confirmation that this is where we ought to be.

I apologize in advance for my poor videography skills.

2011-07-05T05:00:00.014-06:00

The gift of tadpoles was such an exciting thing. Thanks be to our friend Super Duper Cooper. Never let it said that I didn't allow my children a pet. After the horrible cat vs. bat experience I swore off caring for little living things (besides my children) forever.

Perhaps it can be said that I am not a very good critter Mother. But I did allow the tadpoles. And I did try to keep them safe. I promise.

But it was me against entire summer afternoons in the backyard and four creative little people who all wanted to tend to the things simultaneously.

The other morning Kenneth found Eden in the tub with them.... For the love.

Here is Oakley's sad sad tail.

And so goes the Circle of Life.

My favorite part.... "What did we learn about tadpoles?" ..... "I forget".

Three Things Thursday

2011-06-30T05:00:00.002-06:00

Three of June on the Palouse...

If you ever want to visit me, here at B-Happy headquarters. Well. Let me be so bold as to recommend the month of June. June on the Palouse is magnificent (except that this June was a little rainy. One can never really be sure of how things are going to be around here, you know).

But please, if you have to choose, say, between February (barf) and June (hooray) then choose June.

Either way, I will make you bread. But I will probably not take you hiking in Febrary (barf). And you will certainly not get spectacular images like these in Febrary (barf). So. Choose February (barf) if you will, but please be warned that you will not be as happy as if you choose June (hooray).

At Wit's End

2011-06-27T19:48:00.000-06:00

It's Always Fun at Happy's House!

One of several sessions I'm currently editing.

Cute little brothers and their beautiful Momma enjoy some time at Grandma's house.

Lovely lovely.

Life is lovely.

Click here or the Wit's End banner above to see.

Bee Nerd

2011-06-27T03:01:00.000-06:00

Hey!

Do you want to see something cool?

Lookee here:

See that bee with the white dot painted on the top of her abdomen?

That's the Queen Bee.

She is laying eggs here. And see all those bees surrounding her? Those are worker bees. In this moment they are serving as her personal doulas as she walks about the hive, doing nothing but giving birth to eggs all the live long day.

Actually, that's all she does all day long every day. Lay eggs. What a life. She gets one solo mating voyage wherein she mates with many many drones (killing them off one by one, foolish things), then she returns to the hive to do nothing but lay eggs.

For. The. Rest. Of. Her. Life.

Man. That must be one grrrrrreeeaaattt mating voyage to make the rest of her life worth it.

And see this? These are little cells, being capped off with wax. Some of them have pollen in them and some of them have honey. I do not know which is which. Mr. Workman, however, (B-Happy's resident Bee Nerd) would be more than happy to explain these things to you.

Yes. My husband is a Bee Nerd and, frankly, it's pretty fun to have him around, promoting an ongoing science project that the kids love to learn about. A science project that will hopefully get us some yummy honey in the Fall.

Oh! And my resident Bee Nerd has recently been given a new title. This time it's a Church title... "Ward Technology Specialist".

Basically this means he will go about doing what he's been doing for years anyway... making sure all the wires and buttons line up so that any broadcasts, video presentations, computer operations and so and on so forth can take place at church without a beehive of men swarming around, trying desperately to make these technical things work properly at the last minute.

I imagine that the problems the Ward Technology Specialist will encounter will ultimately be solved by the "Ward-Lock-Picking-Specialist" or the "Ward-Call-The-Tech-Support-Number-Listed-On-The-Satellite-Box-To-Find-Out-Why-We-Only-Have-Audio-Feed-Specialist" (these are all the same person, BTW.)

Yes. Yes. My Better Half knows how to solve problems. Big and small. Bee-related and tech-related. God Speed, my Bee Nerd/Ward Technology Specialist! God Speed!

Oh, and this is a picture of some bees just because I like the composition of the shot.

Probably, the 'B' stamp is a bit redundant for these photos, eh?

B-Thirty Six

2011-06-25T03:51:00.000-06:00

There are some things to be said about thirty-six.

Thirty-six is not too old and not too young.

Thirty-six knows who she is and likes it. The good and the bad. What comes easy and what she struggles with. It is all a part of her. A work in progress.

Thirty-six is practical and sexy, smart and witty, pretty average and amazingly spectacular. Complicated and streamlined. Here and there. Fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants.

Thirty-six thinks that photographing yourself is a very odd thing to do. Narcissistic, perhaps? It is described as a journey of self discovery, but at thirty-six, maybe running is better. Everything always gets worked out during a good run. Wouldn't you say?

Thirty-six loves to pick berries with her family, make jam with her boy, watch her kids learn to love being on the swim team. Thirty-six still babies the 2-year old and starts never ending conversations with the chatterbox 4-year old just for the sake of a smile. Thirty-six smiles easily with her children. Thirty six loves being a Mother more than almost anything else.

Thirty-six thinks often about going back to work. But thirty-six is having too much fun playing play dough and planning field trips to entertain the notion for very long.

Thirty-six is learning, slowly but surely, that yelling does not work. It does not feel good.

Thirty-six has more fun washing the van with the help of little hands than trying to do it by herself.

Thirty-six does not wash the floor nearly as often as she should, and she doesn't really care.

Thirty-six is more gentle with herself than thirty-five was, or thirty-two, or twenty-seven.

Thirty-six is in love. Still. Forever.

Thirty-six will never post the 'sexy' photos from the self-photography class. Ever.

Thirty-six looks different than I thought it would.

Nine!

2011-06-20T07:00:00.003-06:00

Over the morning oatmeal her face crumpled, dripping fresh salty tears into the whole grain goodness.

"It's just that everybody at school has sparkly shirts."

"And I don't have any sparkly shirts. Not even any fancy shirts."

"Everyone walks around and makes comments about their sparkly shirts and I don't have even one sparkly shirt. I just have plain boring shirts."

The rest of the commentary became unintelligible, between sobbing gasps and bites of oatmeal.

And what is a Mother to do, for an almost-nine-year-old girl who has no sparkly shirts? Or even any fancy ones?

The laundry, of course. Wherein I found ... (and I counted very carefully) ... no less than three shirts containing some sort of sparkle product on the front. Not to mention to two (or was it three?) shirts with fancy details including puffs or lace or cutsie flowers.

And wasn't it just the other day that I was at that very school, watching the children walk down the hall, thinking to myself that everyone at the school looks just about the same, in terms of every day kid wear, rumpled from recess, worn out in the knees, untucked shirts, cafeteria ketchup and chocolate milk splattered on t-shirts? Yes. This was just the other day.

So, you see, I don't always understand these things that my daughter feels so passionately about. I do understand the passionate feeling, but not really the subject matter in this case.

But does it really matter if I 'get it'?

Maybe not.

I did give her a hug and tell her I was sorry for her plight (more or less). But other than that? With a multitude of things I would consider sparkly and fancy just one laundry load away from her grasp... well. I just didn't know what to do.

As it turns out, the Universe (in the form of her friend's dress up box) provided her with a fantabuloso sparkly pink vesty thingamabob, with just the right combination of sparkle and fancy for the piano recital that night.

Thank you, Universe.

Does it bother anyone else that this video is sideways? Yes, it bothers me too. I shot it portrait style on my Nikon, but Lightroom switched it to landscape and I can't change it back. I guess I could, if I were to look it up more indepth that I did. But I'm too impatient. Just tilt your head to the right. There. See. Not so bad.

I am so proud of this beautiful, intelligent, kind, friendly little girl.

The big birthday present was last month when I took her to the musical Wicked. How wonderful, to enjoy something like that together! With my child! With the baby I used to cradle and sing to! I miss my babies when they grow up, but I'm not sure I'd trade this lovely 9-year old in for her baby self again. It's just too nice getting to see her grow up and become a real person.

Happy Birthday Sweet Girl!

The Father of my Children

2011-06-19T22:26:00.001-06:00

Thee cheers for Kenneth, the Father of our children.

He works hard
He provides for us
He does the dishes
He fixes cars
He goes on walks
He takes them fishing
He reads them books
He builds them play rooms
He teaches them games
He takes them out
He stays in with them
He is firm
He is kind
He is considerate
He is honest
He is loves God

But. I have to say, from personal experience, that the very best thing Kenneth has ever done for his children is to love me.

“The most important thing a father can do for his children is love their mother”.

- Theodore Hesburgh, American Priest

There. A Priest has said it. So. You know it's true.

I don't think my children will ever realize how blessed they are to have a father who loves their mother the way Kenneth loves me. I can barely comprehend it myself... for a long time I didn't even think such a thing was really possible among married folk. But it is. He loves me, and I love him and we love them... and that's how we're going to keep it.

Happy Fathers Day.

Three Things Thursday

2011-06-16T20:31:00.000-06:00

Three of some evening glory ala weeds on the side of the road:

I've been trying to capture sun flare in a more sunburst sort of way. It's been pretty unsuccessful until the other day when I literally woke up with the idea in my head that if I wanted to catch the sunburst rays I needed to close down the aperture.

I immediately looked it up (which I should have done in the first place) and it turns out that my subconscious dreaming self understands light and cameras a little better than I thought. Go figure.

I decided to try it out when these weeds caught my eye. I wish I'd have had my tripod, then I could have closed down the aperture more without the problem of hand shaking. But, like most things in my life, this was a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants production. So no tripod. But it still worked.

Focal length: 50mm (I used my 50 1.8 prime lens, it's been gathering dust for a while and I decided to resurrect it.)

Shutter speed: 1/8000 sec

Aperture: f/2.8

ISO: 200

The larger aperture opening allowed more light in, so the sun is more of a glow.

Focal length: 50mm (I used my 50 1.8 prime lens)

Shutter speed: 1/320 second

Aperture: f/6.3

ISO: 200

Here the smaller aperture helped to catch the star burst effect of the sun.

I know I've said this a million times... but these photos remind me again of the amazing beauty that can be found if I just stop and take a moment to consider the every day. Honest to goodness, these lovely weeds were just an afterthought on the side of the road, on the way home one evening, a stinky white van full tired, sugared-up kids.

There is truly beauty all around.

Focal length: 50mm

Shutter speed: 1/8000 sec

Aperture: f/2.8

ISO: 200

So there you have it. Evening glory.

And speaking of glory, I made these Earthbound Farm (not so organic) Original Morning Glory Muffins for breakfast today. Mmm Mmm good. I followed it to the 'T'. But not the the organic part. And except the part where I did 1/2 whole wheat flour and 1/2 white flour. Also I used raisins instead of craisins. The next time I make these I will decrease the sugar.... Hmm. So much for following the recipe. (My engineer husband cringes at my cooking style, but what I make is almost always good or at least edible). So...give them a try. Click on over and make some mmm mmm good muffins.

Red. Red. Red.

2011-06-15T16:52:00.000-06:00

I think peonies look like dessert. Fluffy, light, plentiful and sweet. Delicious. I wonder if our bees like them?

My yard is nothing to boast about. I will never win garden-of-the-month. I wish I knew more about garden design and flower care. But it is a nice feeling to know that what is blooming here is there because I put it in the ground and sometimes remembered to water it and weed around it. Just because I have 4 of these plants in my flower bed and only 2 of them ever bloom doesn't mean that the blooming ones are any less beautiful. I am pretty sure I need to re-plant the non bloomers, this time with a more shallow covering. One more thing for the list!

At Wit's End

2011-06-15T11:10:00.001-06:00

Now THAT's a family! (<--click to see)

I only photograph large family groups on a case-by-case basis. Mostly because I feel my skills are greatly lacking in this area. But, in this case, I am so glad I accepted the challenge!

I love this family, and seeing them like this, all grown up, such a strong cohesive family group who enjoy each other... Well. Let's just say that it puts a lot of points on the 'pro' side of the whether-or-not-more-kids-are-a-good-idea-for-team-Workman list.

Camp B-Happy, Summer Kickoff

2011-06-14T00:11:00.001-06:00

Camp B-Happy Preview took place last week with a fabulous after school craft. And I was all ready to post a simple but poignant post about Stay-at-Home-Mom-Perk-#-42, because watching the kids paint those up was nothing short of delightful...but then the actual and factual first day of Summer Holidays happened today and I remembered.

That summer holidays are a. lot. of. work. for. mom.

That I need to relax a little bit.

That I don't like yelling.

That I don't like the looks on my kids face when I do it (yell, I mean). That I don't like how I feel when I've stopped yelling. I don't like replaying things in my mind over and over so much that I can't sleep which just makes the next day harder because I'm too tired to wake up and run which leaves me with more pent up frustration.

That I need to somehow find a balance between structure, goals and direction and fun, relationships and natural learning.

That I wish I had a way to get them (the Biggles especially) motivated without the shock value of a raised voice.

Anyway. That's that. About the yelling, I mean.

So my summer plan goes something like this:

My kids have 4 things they need to do each day this summer (cash rewards... the hope is that they earn the money they will need for the fun stuff we have planned). The four things are:

Reading - 15+ minutes per day. The Biggles read to themselves, and I read to the Littles.

Exercise - Swim team every morning should cover this. If we miss practice, it's bike riding, trampoline, hiking... something to get them moving in their bodies.

Room - Basic room cleaning... make the bed, put laundry in the bin, pick up toys

Chore - Pick a chore from the newly minted chore jar and complete it. Things like: sweep the floor, vacuum a room, clean the sink and mirror, pick up the back yard, help cook a meal... basic family work stuff

I also have a list of field trips we can do once or twice a week, a box full of craft supplies, and our family has a couple of road trips planned.

So.

Summer.

Maybe the most important thing on any list should be... love your kids. Don't yell.

Also, another thing to do: Try not to miss Beth.

My sister Nawana surprised me with a last minute visit this weekend. How I love that sister of mine (maybe because she does not yell at my children like I do). Her timely visit helped to dampen the sting of losing Beth. But when my lovely Nu Nu heads back North tomorrow morning. Well. I will be sad to see her go and sadder still that there is no Beth to drop in on to tell her my tales of yelling and sisters and such.

What a thing, to think of leaving little Colfax for greener pastures. Whoever would even attempt to try to do such a thing. I can't even imagine.

As far as tomorrow goes.... no yelling.

I hope.

Three Things Thursday

2011-06-09T12:46:00.002-06:00

Two of the countertop.

I know... it should be three... but. You know how things are.

In short, my goal of keeping a clean, organized 'command central' is not going so well.

Exhibit A:

L-R :

- Netflix movie, needs to be put in the mail box.

- Planner and cell phone.

- Sander for kitchen cabinets (whenever I have a minute I work on sanding them down for the big -

cabinet re-do of 2011 (or 2012?? ugh). Wouldn't it be so nice to just hire people to do home improvements for me! Sigh.

- Granola bars, to be distributed into 72-hour kits. Since my home town burnt down down 3 weeks ago I've been motivated to be more prepared for emergency disasters. Because 3 pkg of granola bars is totally going to make it all better when our house goes up in flames.

- Some tool thingamabob belonging to Mr. Workman. What is that doing on the counter?

- Card from Eden to a friend who is moving away. We keep forgetting to deliver it.

-Running sunglasses.

- Car keys.

- Regular sunglasses.

- Regular phone.

Exhibit B:
L-R
- Snickerdoodles brought from Mr. Workman's work. Will go straight to my butt.
- Netflix movie, still not put in mail box.
- Diaper ala Georgia (clean), kept on counter for when we leave the house. I'm trying desperately to potty train that red head... but despite the big girl panties and frequent bathroom trips, she has never once tinkled in the potty.
- Sander for kitchen cabinets. At this rate, the cabinet re-do of 2011 is nothing more than a pipe dream. Ugh.
- Backpack purse. Hopefully I can keep small Black hands out of this one... yesterday I found $85 in Ivy's pocket. She's been curious about money and I guess she's been helping herself to my grocery budget... which would explain why I came up short last month. Usually our cash budget lasts us through the whole month. But apparently when sticky little 4-year old hands grab the cash then we don't have enough for the last monthly milk-produce-yogurt-eggs trip to the store.
- SHOUT! Because last night was spaghetti for dinner, which always equals sauce splashes on everyone's shirt.
-Cell phone.
- Planner (without which I cannot think) which tells me that I have photos to edit, class parties to attend, t-ball practice, piano lessons, service projects etc that all require my immediate attention.
- Running sunglasses - great for use while I am running off the Snickerdoodles from Mr. Workman's work.
- Receipt from repair of radiator hose belonging to the stinky white van.
- Papers for Sunday School lesson I have to teach on Sunday.
- Notes from my writing class that is taking me a very long time to get through...in fact, I currently find myself stuck and I really wish I had a writing group to pow wow with.

Phew.

Does anyone really care what's on my counter? Probably not. And why do I document such things? Well... because. My life is crazy. And there are so so so many things to do, so many places where I can spend my time and energy. Getting it all together just never seems to happen for me, and the counter top of doom illustrates this fact, despite my true and righteous desire to have a clean, organized kitchen. I guess this is memorable to some degree, because when I'm 89 and spend my days sitting on the couch watching Grey's Anatomy's 50th season, that I can look back at the blog books I've printed up (oops, another thing do to...I'm 2 years behind on that) and remember what it was like to be busy.

Do you have a counter top of doom? Or drawer of doom? Or closet of doom? Or bedroom of doom?

Well.

My condolences.

I Spy With My Little Eye....

2011-06-07T06:00:00.008-06:00

Do you see them? My two little feathered friends? Still very few power lines around here... I really did like those birds on a wire back in our Utah days (way back when...) When I do come across a country power line with birds resting on them, they are sacred away by the stinky white van before I get a chance to hop out and capture them.

I would be scared away by the stinky white van too.

At Wit's End

2011-06-06T12:11:00.000-06:00

A little Prince and his Princesses in Waiting

Click here or logo above to see the latest and greatest from me and my trusty Nikon.

Dear weather: please stop raining in the middle of photo sessions. Especially when the forecast is 'partly cloudy little chance of rain'. Ha. Good thing I've got skillz.... or something.

Three Things Thursday

2011-06-02T19:14:00.000-06:00

Three of a ladybug...

I spotted these little friends the other morning on my neighbor's tree. 7am, right after a run...my favorite time of day.

Not this morning. This morning was plagued with torrential downpour. Cold. Wind..... as was the rest of the day. Sheesh. Where is summer anyway?

But. Yes. Once again, on the morning that I captured the lady bugs I was reminded why I love photography..... why photography is a sort of therapy for me... Because the pre-photography Betina would have glanced at the bugs, run past and got on with her day, never giving them another thought.

But Betina the photographer stopped. Noticed something beautiful, then took a few minutes to capture it.

Photography makes me slow down and love the beauty in life.

I really should go out this very moment and capture the beauty of freshly fallen rain, bright green grass and dramatic clouds, seeing how I'm rather bitter about the cold at this point in the year.

An Entire Week's Worth of Blogging All in One Ginormous Post. Lucky You.

2011-05-31T23:18:00.001-06:00

Drink boxes.
Fruit snacks.
Granola bars.

Once their presence is known in the house, then it begins... the never ending search. Climbing cupboard doors, raiding pantries, searching for clever hiding places the Mom may have used.

It is to be understood that these sorts of snacks are for special occasions. Cold lunches. Picnic field trips. Long car trips. Sadly (though the Mom always puts these things on the grocery list) when the time comes that we actually need these snack items, they are always GONE.

Don't they know that these snacks are not for 8:30 am immediately after a lovely smoothie and toast breakfast has been served. (!?!?!?!?!?!?!!?!?)

But when lunch is packed for Eden and they see these things go into the brown bag.

Well then.

It's all over.

The wailing, the crying, the gnashing of teeth. It all begins.

Today a certain(under the weather) red headed child was the culprit. She cried for a juice box for THIRTY FIVE MINUTES. Wailing. Repetitions... "aywannadoosbox... aywannadoosbox...aywannadoosbox". Wailing and crying until she threw up all over the kitchen. Seriously. The child wept and wailed herself into hysterical vomiting over a JUICE BOX.

At which point I just did not care anymore and I gave her the geedee juice box.... and since she got one then of course I just handed them to the other two because THIRTY FIVE MINUTES of the wailing was about all I could manage. Also I had smoothie and toast puke to clean up.

So... let's see... that puts us at: One point children. Zero points Mom.

Which leads me to the question... did you have a nice weekend? Oh good. So did we.

Kenneth put up the last of three bee hives. Phew. The boxes of buzzing bees in the basement were staring to creep me out. They will be much happier in the great out of doors. Sort of like my children. Sort of like me.

Also... if you would like to sign up for the local Summer Reading program, please watch this detailed video about the process. Very informative.

Note to Self: The child of a Speech Therapist really ought to see another Speech Therapist for their unresolved speech issues.

Twelve!

2011-05-29T22:14:00.000-06:00

In Mormon years, our marriage just graduated from Primary.

.love.

You say Tomato.....

2011-05-27T19:52:00.000-06:00

You say an afternoon of doctors appointments?

I say an afternoon to myself.

You say two different x-ray techs (novice and teacher) poking and prodding, positioning and repositioning for much longer than would be expected for what was being done?

I say the flimsy cotton nightgown and all the hands on contact is like unto a massage.

You say 1 1/2 hours waiting in a small doctor's office?

I say time to finish my book, overload on Face book and then, finally, turn off the lights in the exam room, lay down on the crisp paper covering the exam table and take a nap.

You say bicep tendinitis and inflamed knee joint?

I say no actual structural damage, so long distance running can resume much faster than if the latter were the case.

All in all, I say... a nice way to spend the day.

Three Things Thursday

2011-05-26T20:05:00.001-06:00

Three items from Oakleys' School Report card:

1. Easily distracted
2. Bothers others
3. Handwriting needs improving

Three items from Oakley's Mom Report Card:

1. Never timid about greeting people
2. Sister entertainer (and tormentor) extraordinaire
3. Gives sincere compliments at unexpected times

.
.
.
Dear Oakley,
This week you completed kindergarten and you lost your first tooth.

A note about the tooth: In the past six years you have ground those little baby teeth to smitherines. Since the next set of teeth you're getting will be yours for a very long time, I would recommend that you avoid gnawing on bedposts (and the like). Just saying.

Also... after reviewing blog posts from back when you were a baby, I have come to the conclusion that you are the life of the party. What things you teach me, young boy, what excitement you bring to this family. We would have very few family stories to laugh about if you were not around.

I think you look positively smashing in that bow tie.

Love,
Mom.

The Following Occured on a Friday Afternoon

2011-05-25T09:15:00.000-06:00

Sequence of events:

Mom and the Littles visit the Cat Bookstore. They have free popcorn there. And a big fat cat. And a friendly little dog. And really great quality homemade soap to which I am addicted.

Mom and the bookstore lady begin a friendly small-town conversation.

Children fill popcorn bags.

Mom purchases soap.

Children play with fat cat and friendly little dog.

Friendly little dog turns out not to be so friendly. Barks and snaps at Little Red.

Little Red goes into hysterics.

Little Red chokes on popcorn.

Little Red continues to choke on popcorn, coughing and sputtering profusely.

Little Red vomits green GoGurt puke all over the Cat Bookstore and herself and her Mom.

Cat Bookstore Lady goes to get clean up gear.

Mom takes Little Red to the bathroom, removes her clothes. Wipes the greater portion of green GoGurt puke off of her face, tummy, legs and hands.

Bookstore lady apologizes repeatedly (while wiping green GoGurt puke off of carpet and books and wall) and says, "Afer this you'll be ready to be done for the day."

Mom, surprisingly calm and unruffled replies, "Ha! This is all part of a normal day. I'm not worried."

Mom also adds that perhaps the friendly little dog is not as friendly as he once was and appropriate measures should be taken. In the kindest, most appropriate small-town-you-must-always-be-nice-to-everyone-beause-you-see-them-everywhere way, of course.

Mom and the Littles walk back to the van, Mom carrying a naked Little Red, leaving green GoGurt puke fumes in their wake.

.
.
.

And you see, friends, this is the point of my sharing this everyday scene from my Mothering life.... I was not ruffled. Not excited. Not frustrated or frantic or anxious. I was not embarassed or overwhelemed. There I was, covered in puke, hysterical 2-year old in my arms, fairly annoyed at the little dog, yet I was cool as a cucumber.

And this is me UNMEDICATED.

I was, of course, concerned about Georgia. But when I told the lady, "Ha! This is all part of a normal day. I'm not worried." I really truly meant it.

This has not always been the case. Such disasters, in the past, always seemed to push me over the edge.

So. This is it. Proof that change happens. That progress occurs. That I am learning, growing, and becoming.

And with that, friends, I leave you with the early morning glory of the Palouse.

(There is a house across the street for sale... and this is their view. Sigh. Tempting. Very tempting. Right now I just sneak over at dawn and grab what glory I can with my Nikon.)

At Wit's End

2011-05-24T06:00:00.001-06:00

Three is Company

Click on the logo above to see the latest from me and my trusty Nikon.

If you would like portraits of your family now (when the Plalouse is in it's glory) contact me! I have a few slots left in June and some great locations to choose from.

You can email: witsendphotos2009@live.com, or send me a note on facebook.

I Spy With My Little Eye....

2011-05-22T06:00:00.000-06:00

Regarding Georgia. And My Season.

2011-05-21T08:01:00.001-06:00

Hi Betina,

The BR book "Cheetah Cubs" was returned with black pen markings that we can
not remove. Before I assess the $8.00 fine, I want to be sure that the book
was not damaged prior to your family checking it out. I have deleted the
book, so once the $8 fee is paid, you are welcome to keep the book and
continue checking out as long as your fines don't go above $10.
Thanks!
Sheri
Youth Services Manager
Whitman County Library

.
.
.

HI Sheri,
I paid the fee to Andrea last night. Though I did not notice the damage, I
am almost sure it was a feisty little redhead in my family. Only because
very similar marks (ala Sharpie pen) were also all over my living room wall.

I am sorry about this. I hope the $8 covers the replacement.

Betina.

I do not want to forget...

shoes on the wrong feet
fine red hair smeared with African American hair product
scratches and bruises and bumps (evidence of a day well played)
between 4 to 7 wardrobe changes per day, all involving a skirt or dress of some sort
claiming big sister Ivy as your best friend
afternoon snuggles that always involve retelling the tale of "Little Red Riding Hood"
connect-the-dot freckles multiplying in the sun
swinging in the back yard
trampoline fascination
whispers of "I wuv oo eva" (I love you forever) followed by "an i wuv or hair" (and I love your hair)

.
.
.

I often consider returning to work. There are many opportunities to do so. Sometimes I worry that these opportunities will not be around when I am ready.

But I have have realized that I am not ready.

The thought of going back to work when these Littles are still so very little fills me with sadness.

The fact of the matter is, that spending these freckle-popping-roll-in-the-grass-secretly-destroying-library-books-writing-on-the-living-room-wall-when-mom-is-showering-jumping-swinging-snuggling-walking-exploring-biking-baking-playing- potty-training-loving-perfectly-marvelous-days with the Littles.... well... these days are more precious to me than the money I could be earning, than the brain power I could be using, than the 'adult time' I could be enjoying.

There is a time and season for all things, and I feel especially happy that I am content and at peace with this season of my life.

Tulips are in no way related to this post...but aren't they so happy!?

2011-05-18T09:42:00.000-06:00

7:15 am post run status update...

According to Mr. Workman (who dutifully assumes all child duties while I am getting my morning endorphin fix) Eden tried to change Georgia's diaper. (Eden, age almost 9, is a very good helper, she loves to feel big and important and involved and she is NOT A LITTLE GIRL ANY MORE MOM!!)

"I heard Eden in there with Georgia. Then she started hollering and gagging. Then I heard Eden running out to the kitchen. I rushed into the girls' room to find Georgia and her poop spread eagle on the floor surrounded by a very poopy diaper and way too many poopy wipes."

"Where did Eden go?"

"To find a bobby pin to put on her nose..."

And then we laughed. I laughed and laughed, and Kenneth laughed with me.

And then I kissed him goodbye and he squeezed my butt.

And then I marveled at the joy of sharing life with him.

And then I thought that everyone (who seeks it) should have the privilege of sharing the funny, poopy, beautiful, difficult, loving, amazing moments of life with someone.

PS - Dear Blogger spellcheck, Please add "poopy" to the word list. Hello!! Don't you know how many Mommy Bloggers use this service? Poopy is a way of life.

Slave Lake

2011-05-17T13:56:00.001-06:00

This video shows some really good documentation of the destruction from the fire in Slave Lake. THe photographer in me would love to be there and document this. No matter. Some of these images are truly unforgettable.

My parents and brother have been evacuated and are safe.

Their home (miraculously) has not burned, I don't know about the status of their clinic.

As far as I know there have been no casualties or even serious injuries related to this tragedy.

I salute the Town of Slave Lake, their emergency response team, the fire fighters, and the good strong Northern Albertan people who took charge and did what needed to be done to keep people safe.

And what I know about Northern Albertans tells me that this town will be rebuilt with vengeance. Slave Lake will bind together, help each other and move forward. The town of my youth will continue to be a booming oil center, and the people will be made stronger and better because of this.
Funny thing, after all these years of being gone, I still actually recognized a few people from these videos. That's how a small town is.... always family.

And don't the firefighters look great! I can't tell what is more sexy... the uniform, the strong-man-amid-rubble-smoke-and-destruction look, or the courage and commitment to help and serve.

My Slave Lake Ablaze

2011-05-16T09:06:00.002-06:00

My Slave Lake is burning. Literally the entire town in Northern Alberta is being diminished to ash and rubble.

My parents and brother have been evacuated (along with the 6000 other town residents) to another town about 1.5 hours away.

Here is some footage of what's going on there.... ( <--click on the words)

This is my Slave Lake...

Obviously the lake itself is not burning. Facebook rumors said it is actually still frozen.

My high school has burned down, the town mall where memories of fries and gravy and Junior High drama abound... gone. The libary, the Bird Church, The Leishman's home... gone. No word on the exact status of the Slave Lake Family Clinic (my Dad's business)... but it is confirmed that buildings around it have burned, and the last time my Dad drove by, the siding was melting. So. Probably gone.

My family's home out of town... no confirmation, but based on reports of surrounding homes, it does not look promising.

And here's the thing. Really.

I don't really care about the house.

But stored in that house are boxes and bins of memories. Slides and photographs that chronicle the history of the Payne Family. Me and my siblings growing up, getting into mischief, ragamuffin children tormenting each other, washing dishes by hand, road trips from here to Timbucktoo in the Big Red van... and... well.... memories of times when my parents looked at each other with love, when they had hopes and dreams together, a promising future that they walked into together.

L-R Dad, Serinda, Mom, Me circa 1978

Without getting into personal details that are really none of my business, it is safe to say that new memories of this genre will not be made. The security of my childhood is going up in flames.

And for a 35-year old married woman Mother of four I can't even explain why this matters to me.

I Was Totally Planning on a TTT, But Blogger Wouldn't Let Me.

2011-05-13T15:40:00.002-06:00

Blogger was down for a looong time yesterday. The nerve. And whatever happened in their absence deleted many of the comments that you left.

But no need to fear! Mr. Workman and his handy dandy random number selecting APP chose a winner before the comments were deleted!

And the winner of an original B-Happy print is....

Sarah!

Ha! You beat Llegue at something. Good for you!

Hey Sarah: What would you like? What size? What is your email address so I can ask you your real address in the privacy of your Inbox?

And what a lot of Internet friends I have that I did not even know about. Wow. All of your virtual love makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

To top it all off, I am proud to announce that my former kitchen counter of doom has looked like THIS for an entire week now. If you have ever been in my kitchen, you will know that this is not normal.

I know. The magic of 1010 just keeps on giving.

Can I tell you that my 'command central' has been, for the past three years, a complete and utter disaster. This is where all the stuff that needs my attention gets put. Notes from school, current projects, lists, things that need fixing, paint samples for my desperately-seeking-a-face-lift kitchen, things I need to bring to people, knitting projects I put down because someone needs me, ideas for this that and the other, art projects for the kids..... etc.

And walking by that counter day after day with the visual mess of everything I was behind on was... well... overwhelming. So. I decided to stop letting that ridiculous counter control my mood and raise my blood pressure and I took drastic measures... I cleaned it all up.

I remembered there is actually a place for the crap, and I put the crap where it goes. I cleaned out one of the drawers beneath the counter to give myself three drawers in which to store the necessities.

Why is there foot cream in the pen drawer? Well. I don't really know.

I do know that I have committed (this week) to take care of paper items the moment they touch my hand. The One Touch Rule (thank you Linhda for that little gem). If a note comes home with information about an upcoming event, I put the information in my planner then I throw the paper away. I plan to keep my 'current projects' drawer up to date with the information about what I'm working on right now (summer vacation plans for children, photography, knitting, home improvement, gardening etc) which frees me up to put the crap associated with those things where it actually belongs.

I'm committed to approaching this job as Mother with a more professional approach. I am a professional Mother and it's time I dust off my old Franklin Covey skills to make it happen. A clean counter is going to help with this. Just you wait and see!

Ha.

Check back in a few weeks to see how the counter is doing.

But for now, what a wonderful end to the week. With a clean counter, projects in process, and so many nice people hanging out on the Internet waiting on baited breath for the next inspiring thing that comes from my clickety clackety nonsense.

Thanks friends xoxox

Ten-Ten

2011-05-10T22:34:00.001-06:00

Why is it that the middle of the day on a Tuesday is when I would most prefer to 'hang out' with my husband? Yet he is never around these parts at that time of day. Yes. You see. Nothing is ever convenient.

Just like post #1000 on B-Happy did not land at a convenient time for me to make a big deal of it. And besides... a big deal about post #1000 is so cliche, isn't it?

But post number One Thousand and Ten. Well. Now THAT is something to celebrate!

So. In honor of me, clogging up the Internet for five years with silly words, run-on-sentences, grammatical errors and thoughts about nothing... I present to you (my Faithful Seven)...

The very first (and perhaps only?) B-Happy Contest!!!!

First, being that 10 is the number of the day, I will share with you 10 of my favorite B-Happy Posts (in no particular order)

Hell Mart. One of my first posts. Yes. This is classic. I have even written a children's story about this trip to the store (not that it will ever be published, but you know...)

Perhaps one of the lowest moments of my parenting life. And, of course, it happened at The Wal Mart.

A Day in the Life, Circa 2006

Riding the wave of infertility. Unless you have been there you will never know.

Ivy Selamawit

And then God decided to show me his sense of humor. Haha. Very funny.

The deer ate his jack-o-lantern twice. Remarkable.

Look what I made! (what a clever little TTT, don't you think?)

More poop.

Ron Weasley Look Alike

And now... something for you (besides run-on sentences, I mean)...

I've had a lot of requests about prints of things that I photograph.

So...

Here are some things that I think are worth printing up and putting on a wall somewhere...

Waiting for Spring

Sunny Friend

I Love to See the Temple

A Single Drop

Winter Orchard

If a Tree Falls in the Forest...

You can win one of these images (without the white border, but with the B), printed in 5x7 or 8x10 shipped to your home! Or perhaps you would prefer some photo note cards? I love to print photos up and make little cards out of them. If you would prefer, I'll send you an 8-pack of one-of-a-kind B-Happy note cards with various photos on them.

If there is another image that you like better than the ones I've referenced here, just tell me and I'll dig it out from under the loads of garbage on the hard drive, and print it up lickety split (or so).

Wow.

I know.

You can hardly stand the excitement.

Neither can I.

All you have to do is...

Like me on Facebook., Twitter about me, forward this URL to 10 of your friends, talk about me as much as possible in public places so I'll be sure to generate more blog traffic and earn more money from my numerous sponsors...

Ha.

Just kidding.

Actually, I just want to hear from you. Leave me a comment and tell me about why you read this site, maybe a favorite post that you remember, if you have a suggestion for me about what you'd like to hear about...if you are a stalker, then come out of hiding for this special occasion. It's only fair.

I'll give you until high noon on Thursday. Then I will find a way to randomly pick one of the comments....preferably I will google a random number generator, but it may be an Eden-put-all-these-numbers-in-a-hat-and-pick-one-for-me-quickly-so-I-can-get-this-done-before-Tball-practice sort of thing. Please include your email address so I can contact you with the life changing news that you have WON!

I love you, dear Internet, for being my audience and humoring my highs and lows.

Happy 1010 to me (and you)!

A Mother's Day

2011-05-08T22:01:00.002-06:00

Did your Mother's Day remind you that these moments are precious?

Did your Mother's Day leave you stuffed full of good food you did not have to cook, eaten off dishes you did not have to wash?

Did your Mother's Day include and extra spoon of hot fudge sauce with a promise to run a few extra miles after spin class in the morning?

Did your Mother's Day end with chanting "We all live in a yellow submarine" again and again and again while jumping on the trampoline with all of your children (being sure to go potty first so you don't piddle with each bounce?)

Did your Mother's Day remind you to send your Momma Bear some love for the glorious
fact that she gave you life, along with everything else?

Yea. Me too.

What a lovely title to have. Mother... (I think I prefer Momma. Eden still calls me this, and I never want it to change.)

I have nothing witty, humorous, spicy or even thoughtful to say.

Except that I love the moments of Motherhood. Even the moments that are hard.

Thank you, my dear Faithful seven (or so) for plodding along on this journey with me. Blogging about mothering has been, for me, a life saver. It's been many years and many many posts at this little blogger address, and here I am, still clickety clack typing along, working through this business of being a Mom.

I suppose I should have 'gotten it' by now. But, it seems as time passes there are new things to learn, new ideas to explore, and many of the same old things that cycle through again and again. It's nice to have this place to share it all.