Red Geranium

Lazy Morning

2012-01-27T14:06:00.000-07:00

It was a perfect, beautiful morning.

We ate cereal together in the sunshine streaming through the windows.

I was feeling quiet inside.

I asked them if they wanted to read after breakfast.

It just felt right.

We forgot about writing and reading and other stuff I thought we were going to do for sure today.

I sat down, bathrobed with stockings on, wrapping the warm throw on the couch around me. Isaiah snuggled in next, pushing his feet under the blanket, burrowing in beneath my legs. Mia wanted my lap but she's getting a bit big for that sometimes now and it makes me sad. (I have to kind of move my head at an awkward angle when she sits on my lap these days so I can see the book.)

[Interjection: In church on Sunday I said something to Scott about how I swear my neck or spine is out of whack just because of how often I'm not sitting straight to accommodate this little body. And he whispered back something with beautiful perspective, conveying what a lovely thing that was, about what a lovely person was making that happen, about the wonderful blessing she is -- and he's right.]

I put her next to me on the couch, in a small niche perfect for her little bum.

Benji sat down next to Isaiah, Mr. Bear in hand.

We read the end of Where the Red Fern Grows.

I've never read it before until now.

I knew it was going to be sad, and I was a little anxious about how sad I knew the boys would be. The house was still, morning sunlight felt warm and beautiful and light and welcoming. It felt so peaceful -- there was nothing but us snuggling, the story and the words. Reflecting, for me, on the beauty of life and relationships, childhood and parenthood and family and what it means to be -- or have -- a little boy.

The boys and I cried. They had big tears streaming down their cheeks throughout the last several pages. Isaiah kept saying to me that he hoped they were going to come back to life. He kept telling me that Billy should say a prayer. I think he said that was the only thing that could make a difference. I don't think Mia got what was happening, but she would look up at me as I was trying to read through my tears.

Afterward I held both of them while they were crying.

We talked about how before we came to earth we knew there would be great joy and great sorrow, and about how death is a part of life. We didn't quite get to this part, but I wanted to talk to them about how sometimes God lets really sad or hard or unjust things happen. Sometimes saying a prayer isn't going to change what actually will BE. I think we barely skimmed this, but I didn't really get to thresh it out and talk with them about it. I want to come back to it, tho, because it's such a powerful and difficult concept. It then requires us to join in, to offer our faith, to ask questions, to brave hard roads and climb the boulders in each of our paths.

But we did talk about the beautiful part of the end of God's plan. That everything will be made right. That all the unfairness of life and difficulty and struggle and sorrow will be recompensed. It will be okay in the end. I so believe this.

Bonds don't end at death. There is great beauty and warmth and joy beyond.

I snuggled them and thought about their tenderness, those big huge eyes brimming with tears.

It melted me inside.

And my recommendation for the day?

I just read this article written by a woman I want to call friend but have, as yet, not met in real life. I LOVE what she shared and has to say and feel inspired to make some changes.

Being a Father

2012-01-26T09:43:00.001-07:00

The other night I was at the computer when the little gal woke up.

I was trying to finish a couple of posts and so I took her upstairs to her dad.

This is just another reason that I love him.

He was all snug in bed reading his book, one of a string of biographical stuff he's been reading lately.

We walked into the room.

Looking over and seeing her with me, his face broke into a big smile.

Bookmark went in the book.

Book went back on his night stand.

I said I wanted her to snuggle with him for a few minutes while I finished something.

(We kind of have this deal: he gets up with the boys and I get up with her. But it's not really a firm deal...we help each other, too.)

He pulled back his covers and made a spot for her.

I left the room, watching them both turn on their sides facing each other, smiling and giggling.

When I came up about 30 minutes later, I found them like this.

All was peaceful and quiet, and my heart felt warm inside.

This is no small thing.

I think fathers are of utmost importance, and their role cannot be undervalued.

Good fathers are so needed in today's world -- men who will truly be MEN and show their children the importance of integrity, honesty, love, service, hard work, compassion, and how to honor, love, and respect women.

I love this guy.

He is a fantastic father -- and I've said it before, but he literally lights up when he sees our kids. He is committed to, and takes time for, them. He takes them exploring and adventuring, lets them work with him, goofs, wrestles and is silly with them, reads them bedtime stories and sings them songs.

This weekend he is starting guitar lessons. The other night, while cleaning up dinner, we were listening to Keb Mo's Lullaby Baby Blue and he repeated the track after we'd listened to it. I said something like, "Hey, once you learn your basics, you'll be able to sing this to them at night." And he said something like, "That's what I intend to do." He teaches them respect and self confidence and is sensitive to their needs.

I'm grateful my children have this.

On Civil Rights

2012-01-25T08:34:00.001-07:00

On Monday during lunch, while the kids were having some trail mix post sandwiches (for Isaiah and Mia) and cereal (for Benji), we read this story and this story.

I think they correlated quite nicely -- treating others as you would like to be treated, not treating others as less than yourself.

The thing I love about the first book is that it shares the phrase of the golden rule in the way it is taught from various religions: Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, and the Shawnee Tribe. It also promotes thinking about applying the rule in different situations from a child's perspective, and was very thought-provoking for me as well.

Then we read about Martin Luther King's life in the other book, and I prefaced it with earlier conversations we've had on slavery and the poor treatment of black people, the whole ugly issue of racism and how wrong it is.

The story sketches Martin's life as a child and as an adult.

What he fought for, how he worked and prayed with people.

It shares the Rosa Parks incident.

We talked about how Martin knew it was right to fight for equal rights, even though it was scary.

He had courage and he knew he was doing God's work.

I love that famous phrase: "I have a dream." It moves me to the core.

We talked about how some white people wouldn't let black people in their stores, on the bus, use their toilets, share their common things. They viewed black people as LESS, as dirty or unclean.

I asked them throughout the discussion if they thought this was right, to which the answer was always no.

Benji didn't understand why Rosa Parks was arrested because she wouldn't give up her seat. He said, "The policemen did that, Mom?"

I spent time reinforcing.

We talked about how we are all God's children, and not one of us is any better than anyone else, regardless of skin color, eye shape, or any other discriminatory factor.

We are all equal and all beautiful.

Then, after this discussion, Isaiah came out with this:

"If the white people kept doing that to the black people, I would grow up to be the bishop and teach them all about Jesus Christ and that they can use the same potties and the same buses and the same plates and tables as the white people are."

Aside from it kind of cracking me up that he referred to being a bishop so he could teach people what was right (we had talked about how Martin was a minister), I thought it was very profound.

I found myself uttering a silent prayerful wish, right then, in my mind and heart:

Oh Isaiah, I hope you have the courage to fight the injustices in your time.

I hope you have the courage to speak up and out.

To teach truth by your words and example.

And God, please give me the courage to do the same.

Last Saturday and Sunday

2012-01-24T08:29:00.003-07:00

On Saturday morning I woke up and saw fog sitting low on the mountains.

I had a list to do and knew I needed to get out and run before it got nasty.

Turns out, in the time it took me to start getting dressed, the rain began.

I kind of ughed inside, but went anyway.

So glad I did.

Ran up the hoofer hill right by house and kept going for 40 minutes.

I was soaking wet.

But every time I work out after or in a beautiful snowstorm, or with rain falling all around (and on!) me, there is a great quiet inside.

Something about being in the element creates something still inside me.

I forget how much I love this until I do it again.

I pushed hard and came home.

It felt so good, and I was so glad I hadn't let the cold keep me inside.

Took this dorky picture of myself to try and show you guys how soaked I was. (I was trying to get my wet legs, not my face and upper body---clearly this didn't work. And my hand below almost looks like a black spider...what's up with that?)

This one is a bit better.

Notice how much lighter my spandex is towards my feet??

We bought a couch over the weekend.

We've wanted leather, something with classic lines, chocolate brown, simple.

Found it.

Love it.

We ate some yummy food.

Had a date night (I love being with him!).

Took the kids to their first official concert of baroque chamber music and then out to ice cream.

They did so awesome, and we're already trying to figure out what our next cultural outing will be with them.

Sunday was spent at church and in time together.

After dinner we read for an hour out of Where the Red Fern Grows.

We were gonna make cookie dough and bake some warm gooieness, but didn't get there yet.

That sounds like something yummy for my to-do list sometime this week.

Yes, please!

I love this time.

Letters

2012-01-23T09:16:00.000-07:00

(pics of my Mom with Mia)

My mom made a big move to the Middle East this past weekend for a new job.

I am so proud of her.

She's almost 61, and went to teach at a school that was founded with the express purpose of educating women to be leaders.
I think it's brave. She went without knowing anyone.
I love my mom.
From her example she teaches me to think for myself, to stand alone if that's what it means, to be honest in my feelings and how I express them, to be brave, to be okay in my own skin, to not stop learning, to be considerate of others, to never laugh at or mock something different from myself and to respect all peoples.

That's a tall order.

I'm trying to live up to them.

I love these legacies.
This is something to be proud of.
Thank you, Mom.

Each day we're doing schoolwork, we do something with reading and something with writing.
So, we wrote letters last week.
To my grandparents, who we were going to visit.

To give well wishes to my mother, beginning this new chapter and adventure.

We added scratch-n-sniff stickers.
And wrote these cards for my sister who is recovering from knee surgery AGAIN.

These are so cute I couldn't not share them.
I am proud of these boys.

Mia wanted to write letters, too, so I helped.

As I was getting ready to post these the other day, I thought about how much I love letters.

Super heart heart love them.
They are so romantic and timeless.
There is something about taking the time to put pen to paper, to personalize them with your own handwriting, something that calls back yesteryear in today's frenzy of gmail and text and everything quick quick quick. It's a beautiful thing to take the time for personal, quaint, charming touches that say I CARE.
I've written a few letters in my day.
I think about the role they've played in my life.
I have cards and letters saved in the hope chest at the foot of my bed, in scrapbooks, tucked in corners of desks and stacks to be organized into meaningful reminiscences.
Each a tangible reminder of someone significant in my small world, of a specific time, of how that person influenced and blessed my life.

I went to the letters that Scott and I exchanged on his mission.
We have four huge binders of letters.

I looked at the fun letterheads, at the cutouts of Calvin & Hobbes' comic strips, various pics that were part of this or that joke, nicknames, bunches of hand-drawn flowers.

I choked up as I read expression after expression at the beginning or ending of his letters to me -- about what an amazing woman he thought I was, about being such a lucky guy, about how beautiful I was, how special I was to him.
He was so focused as a missionary, so dedicated.
(In fact, later on, I wished he would say a few more of those cute things because he was so into the work. I knew he loved what he was doing, 100%. But it was lovely he was so dedicated to truth that I felt so passionately about, too.)

I knew he had me tucked away in a safe place, tho.
I was reminded of this the other day, and became pretty emotional.

I had forgotten.
One of my favorite parts that I read in those few minutes was a snippet where he remembered the night that he really kissed me for the first time. And he said something like, "Honestly, I knew I wanted to be with you forever from that night."
I'm more grateful today for his companionship than I was then.
We've been through a helluva lot more.
I feel more bound to him.
But I look back and I see these seeds that were planted.
I see things I've forgotten.
I felt gratitude again.
I felt like a little dry, parched piece of earth in my memory of time got some rain, and little flowers remembered how to grow over there.
A beautiful, shocking, outcropping of wildflowers abloom again.

I plan to order a copy of THIS book I read years ago, but want to read again.

I keep thinking about it.
I loved it.
This is a lovely, lovely compilation.
So romantic.
So sweet and genuine.
Charming and heartfelt.
Inspiring.

Maybe you wanna order it too and get into the valentine love?
And maybe you also wanna join my personal goal for the week and send out a few handwritten somethings?
A card, a letter, something genuine and with a personal touch?
I do, I do!

Tell Me What You Thought

2012-01-19T10:36:00.003-07:00

Do you know what I loved last night?

I came home from young women and was trying to get everyone to cooperate so we could read and they could go to bed.

I was feeling a bit cranky.

Kind of got my head back on and it ended all right, with a good chapter down and scriptures and prayer.

Then I went to facebook and read the article my friend had linked there.

I almost cried and laughed outloud, too.

I totally recommend it.

Love, love, love, love, LOVE.

My favorite line? The one she says she would say to the young mother down the road.

So great. I also love the idea of passing it forward and helping the young mother when you have the opportunity.  I have thought about doing that so many times when I have felt like my hands (and emotional patience) is about all tied up.  I've thought, "Remember this.  Down the road, when you're not in this stage anymore.  And when you see that strung out mom in the grocery store or somewhere else, HELP her!!"

It's awesome.

Go check it out HERE.

 And then, I'd love it if you came back and told me what you thought of it.

Just sayin.

Learning What It Means

2012-01-18T08:37:00.000-07:00

I got fidgety.

Never loved the wintery mantle.

Still haven't figured something out for January that I totally love up there.

So I went on to love month, and decided that from here on out, I'll probably just celebrate the love directly after Christmas. Why not?

As I got into it, I realized I wanted to celebrate the love we have for each other -- beginning as a couple, morphing into family.

And I wanted it simple.

Family photos.
I chose the candid sepia photo we used for our wedding announcement.

My current most fave picture of Mimi with her dad.

The pic of me laughing as the boys were trying to smooch my cheeks.

The mantle became an expression of something I've been thinking about a lot lately.

The other night Scott and I were talking about the progress we can both see and feel
that has been made in our relationship in the last year.

I've thought a lot lately about how the person you marry becomes such a significant choice.

You don't even realize how significant it is when you are doing it, even if you hear yourself saying, "This is a HUGE decision, a HUGE choice."

You don't know that yet.

But it's really starting to sink in for me.

When I come away from gatherings with folks that I love dearly, and feel that comfort in knowing that I don't have to explain myself to him. He understands me in some ways where I don't have to say a whole lot.

That he loves my kids the same way that I do, because they are his, too.

That we have such a collective history, becoming more and more intertwined.

That he has seen, and accepted, a lot of my weaknesses and still is there for me anyway.

That he has forgiven a lot.

We've walked through several trials together, some pushing us apart, and then have had to fight to come back together.

Sometimes that feels like a crazy uphill climb.

But more and more, I just realize how much we share.

It doesn't mean that he always gets me or I get him.

It doesn't mean that we have 100% crossover of our interests and what we understand.

It doesn't mean we always like the same stuff or share the same opinion.

It doesn't mean we respond to everything the same way.

It doesn't mean we always understand each other and never ever get in a fight because of miscommunication (insert: hahahaha).

What I'm learning though?

It DOES mean it's about letting someone enrich your life, being willing to open up and not be scared of the differences or the beauty you find there.

It's about having a companion, and being a companion to someone else.

It's knowing you have someone to go home to, knowing someone will be there.

It's about recognizing the dual journey,and learning to count the steps together and not the differences.

It's about learning how to make better choices and grow up.

It's about humbling yourself and making it not about YOU, but about US.
It's about thinking about the other person, and how they feel.

This can be hard stuff, folks.

Lately for me it has been thinking a lot about being loving.

Choosing to love.

Not expect.

Not define.

Not put within a certain bracket.

Not compare.

Rather, I am trying to appreciate and respect more.

The more I honestly practice this and focus, the more I find to appreciate and respect.

The more I AM a companion, the more I notice how he is that back brace for me, too.

It's a continual give-give.

We have a lot of love to celebrate, a lot of learning and growing and stretching.

Not to mention the 3 little people we have now that just further us.

And being a family doesn't mean you have it all figured out or that things are always pretty.

It's about having someone to share the journey with, someone who helps you learn and discover a lot about yourself.

It means trying and loving and working at it the best you can, and noticing the miracles that happen along the way.

Letter Into the Future

2012-01-16T13:23:00.001-07:00

The other day I pulled out the camera because I was admiring her outfit.

And loving the combinations of colors and patterns.

So cute.

And thinking about how lovely it is to be unconstrained by social norms or messages, how she can just be herself, how she wears stuff because she likes it.

Amen, sister.

Then, last night, I was tickling her while getting her in her jammies.

She was laughing so hard, and I was kneeling over her, snuggling my face into her neck.

Tickle, tickle, tickle under her chin.

We've had a bit of a breakthrough the past few days, beginning when Little Miss announced to me that she wanted to wear underwear to bed like the boys.

So, we tried it, and it's working.

(Insert: HALLELUJAH!!)

So -- amidst the tickling, and while thinking about her not wearing diapers at night now -- I asked, "Why are you such a big girl?"

(Prompting, of course, the response that she's not wearing diapers EVER now.)

(I should learn to stop prompting responses in my head. Remember the last time I did that?)

And she stopped my heart for just a second when she said,

"Because I'm growing up."

Yes, she is.

Dear Mimi:

I want to tell you about some of my wishes for you.

When you get big, please let yourself still be you.

Wear the bright colors if that is you.

Say what you know is right and let the chips fall.

Be okay with who you are, and appreciate the OTHERness of others.

There is great, deep beauty in all of us.

I believe this so strongly.

Disregard the loud messages that try to force and persuade you to believe that you need to be this or have that or look like this or reach that status to be worthwhile.

The irony is that none of those things bring happiness anyway.

I wish for you, a thousand times, the wisdom to perceive this, and to let it govern your heart.

One of the greatest blessings of motherhood is feeling deep down into your soul the worth of another.

I wish I could capture that for you, that truth,

and that you would never doubt it someday, down the road,

maybe when you're a teenager and start wondering

how you match up, how you compare.

(Blast that ugly word!)

Or when the dream that you want isn't what is popular or what will be viewed as socially acceptable or as something worthwhile.

The beauty inside of you is crazy strong, it's almost deafening when I'm with you.

And I love it so much.

And when you stopped my heart by saying you're growing up, it's only because I know it's true.

I love you.

Mom

Small Snapshots

2012-01-13T13:32:00.000-07:00

 Do you ever feel like you're in a spiral?

Or maybe a better analogy would be those crazy tracks they build for marbles, where the marble goes up and down and around and out at the bottom, or else in a circuitous loop?

I do.

Kind of tagging onto the post at the first of the week.

I had a cry via text with my husband this morning.

Telling him how I hate how I go up and down.

A couple weeks of feeling great, and then a couple weeks (or more) of kind of feeling like I am on and off PMSing.

Yuck.

I get in the track, caught trying to analyze what triggers it or if I can help it.

Is it just part of being female?

(Blast those hormones!)

I wonder where my focus needs tweeking.

Where my mothering definitely needs to improve.

How I can be a better wife.

If I am making any progress at all at times. 

And sometimes, when I feel I'm out at sea, I just want to send up a white flag and call it a day.

But there are just lovely moments that I savor too.

This week, for example, I've had several feel-good moments.

I loved going on our outing earlier in the week.

To the art museum, and the fine arts building at the local university.

We looked at art and talked about it.  Viewed it from far away and up close and compared.

We played in the museum's book store with cool toys, and I wanted to spend a bucket on educational stuff for the children.

I love sharing such beautiful things with them, and my heart jumps that they respond!

We got a valentine treat in the bookstore and went downstairs to the children's nook and spent an hour reading, whatever books they had picked out, and some I had picked, too.

We walked and talked.

We stopped and looked at the stuffed cougar, behind the glass.

They wanted to know if he was real.

We had a simple conversation on taxidermy.

I _LOVE_ spending time with them.

And sometimes getting away from home and out doing something reminds me just how much I love our conversations.  These are charming children we have.  And I feel blessed.

We're reading Where the Red Fern Grows at night.

Last night after cleaning up dinner, I lit the candles on the mantle, and the valentine luminaries I made.

(Yes, I'm a fidget butt and already put valentines up instead. I'll post that next week.)

We sat there in the quiet, reading the story.

They loved it.

So did I.

I love that quiet time with them.

I love the quiet in the night, when the lights go out, and I snuggle up next to Scott and he puts his arm around me.

I love his texts saying I love you.

I love knowing that he's there.

I appreciate conversations with him: his perspective is often enlightening or challenging to me, inspiring me to be better.

Or like last night, before reading.

I was cleaning up after dinner.

I had on this cd of my father and another artist.

I watched Benji start dancing with Mia.

 It was so cute.

Then Isaiah came up, pink dress and all, and they were all twirling around.

 I pulled out the camera and started snapping away.

They inspire me so much.

I understand more why the Savior likens our inner changing to becoming as children.

So quick to forgive.

So honest in their emotions.

Heartfelt.

Beautiful and simple.

Unconcerned by the world's messages.

Quick to believe and trust and forge ahead with faith.

I am so grateful to be surrounded by these beautiful little people.

They challenge me to be better.

They forgive me for my imperfections.

They love me anyway.

They are the ones doing much of the teaching here. 

I remember reading Graham Swift's Waterland in one of my senior English courses in college.

I was intrigued by it.

One of the things he says is that "...we are always stepping into the same river."

I think it's true.

All of these emotions and experiences.

Blessings, hard times, good times, understanding and depth.

We're in a collective pool, on a circuitous root, becoming what we are intended to become.

Following a path of those that have gone before.

We stop and breathe, take it in, look around, and try to make sense of it. 

Trying to live up to the best in us, and continue to what lays ahead.

I hope you have a great weekend.

We're going on a family date tonight to see an exhibit put on by our friends at the museum.

Having a girls day all day with  my mom and sisters tomorrow.

Church.

Yummy dinner.

Time with my kids and Scott.

I love the weekend.

(And, p.s., I was talked about HERE today.
I beg to differ. It's really the other way around.
I'm the one that's inspired by her. ;)
She is one of my top blogs to read.
I love her so much, too.
I guess it's one of those mutual feel-good, inspiring relationships, and I want to meet her in real life!)

January Sunshine

2012-01-11T14:07:00.001-07:00

I thought of a poem today after taking this picture around noon.

Bright beautiful sunshine and the loveliness of deep orange.

Beauty

Beauty is seen

In the sunlight,

The trees, the birds,

Corn growing and people working

Or dancing for their harvest.

Beauty is heard

In the night,

Wind sighing, rain falling,

Or a singer chanting,

Anything in earnest.

Beauty is in yourself.

Good deeds, happy thoughts,

That repeat themselves,

In your dreams,

In your work,

And even in your rest.

Rachel Laura Harmon, 3rd grade

Focus #1

2012-01-10T09:37:00.000-07:00

A few words have been floating around my head for the past couple of weeks.

I've decided they need to be one of my points of focus for the new year.

They come from this talk, given at the end of September last year.

The phrase is: Be happy NOW.

I had one of those weekends where everything seemed perfect,

mostly because I spent lots and lots of time with my husband.

We cooked together, watched a documentary together (we love documentaries),

talked til late, went out to dinner with some family, spent time with the kids,

did some spiritual reading/discussion, went to visit some elderly neighbors

across the street that we love, read in each of our respective books before sleep, legs all tangled up together -- just like every night when we read before turning off our lights.

Everything together.

It was so much fun.

One of those things that leaves you feeling re-charged, and anxious to be together again.

I thought about my blessings.

My husband.

His friendship.

His devotion to our family.

How good he is with the kids (much more patient than me half the time).

How invested he is with them.

His sensitivity to me.

Our warm house.

A community we feel so invested in.

Fantastic neighbors and friends.

Food to eat.

Family to share things with.

The hope of dreams and future plans we hope come to fruition.

The incredible, all-encompassing gift of faith, of a belief in a plan

for my life and for my family.

Knowing we have a loving Heavenly Father, that He's aware, and that He sent His Son for our sake.

The blessing of prophets, which I can't emphasize enough.

Exercise.

The beauties of nature (Benji looked up from his dinner last night and said, "Look at that pink sky...it is beautiful!")

Nuts and chews (from See's Candies -- these are under the "simply joys in life" category) and ice cream and, well, chocolate in general...

And three little people who continue to be the absolute joy of our lives.

I love sharing life with them, being taught by them, recognizing my strengths and weaknesses through their eyes, feeling the tug to be better, or the realization that I'm doing some things okay.

Be happy NOW.

It's pretty profound, don't you think?

Not wait for my life to look like the picture perfect image I had imagined for myself (which probably will never materialize in exactly that way anyway).

Not when finances are maybe what I wish they were.

Not when all my questions are figured out.

Or when this trial of faith or that one are explained to me.

Not when I look a certain way or only on the "perfect" days when everything goes right.

Or for any other golden ticket that holds me back, prevents me from recognizing and basking in the current joy.

Not waiting.

Not putting it off.

I don't want to miss what IS.

Some days it is so easy to do that. Other days I falter and fall into the trap of comparing or wishing for something else or giving in to stress or any number of doubts.

But it comes down to choosing faith and optimism and gratitude.

This has been swirling in my head and won't be quiet, so I know it's a directive.

Our times define us.

Create us.

Give moments of clarity in our marriage,

in our family life,

in who we are, fundamentally,

as individuals and as

participants in something so much bigger than ourselves.

Be happy now.

Right now.

Getting Fresh Air

2012-01-06T09:30:00.000-07:00

So...it has been unseasonably warm for late December and January around here.

It actually has been pretty lovely.

I saw a friend had posted on facebook: This is my kind of winter.

Agreed.

I would enjoy it 100% (which I am doing).

But I'm hoping we get some water at some point.

Anyway...there is nothing like a spring-feeling day around here in late December.

See those two kids out in the flowerbed (upper left)?

That's where they were.

They all came in for spoons to get busy with in the dirt.

Rode their bikes.

I had indoor solitude for quite some time.

I opened the windows and aired everything out.

Used my new vacuum and did a number on the house.

Bless that 50-something degrees.

Sharing Glad Tidings

2012-01-05T08:32:00.002-07:00

Right before church on Sunday, this little guy was walking around the house, telling us he was a missionary.

(Mia was his companion.)

They were "telling people about Jesus."

It was making me laugh inside.

He was carrying his stool around and, upon arriving at his destination, would open the stool, sit down, deliver a message, and then get up and go around to another "house" or person.

His message to me was this:

"You will see a star in the heavens that will mean there's a newborn son, born of the Jews."

And then he went in to Scott, who was finishing getting dressed for church.

And said this,

"And the shepherds saw the angels come and they were sore afraid. And they brought glad tidings of great joy."

Then I saw him perched in front of the Christmas tree, teaching some other imaginary folk there, saying, "There will be a newborn star in the east and it will lead you to Bethlehem."

You know...I chuckled, and I still do.

He's so cute.

It was so adorable, so charming.

He trusts implicitly in the stories and truth we are trying to share.

He has a bright belief and it touches me profoundly.

But it was all of that and more for me.

I feel the truth of his words deep down, into my core.

Maybe someday he'll go out in the world and open his mouth, sharing tidings of great joy, teaching people about Jesus, that Christ child born in Bethlehem over 2000 years ago.

The one Man who can ultimately effect a mighty change in their hearts.

That Star of Bethlehem, Star of stars, that will lead their way.

I hope he will choose to do that.

Resonating

2012-01-04T00:04:00.002-07:00

I have to post two things from last Sunday, January 1st.

One today.

The other tomorrow.

I was sitting in church on Sunday listening to a lesson.

Marcie, who was teaching, began to read this quote by President Hinckley. He is a man I deeply respect, both as a prophet and as a deeply insightful human being whose words moved me -- and continue to move me.

I choked up as I heard his words.

I thought of my Mimi.

"When you save a girl, you save generations. She will grow in strength and righteousness. She will marry in the house of the Lord. She will teach her children the ways of truth. ...I see this as the one bright shining hope in a world that is marching toward self-destruction."

I have no idea what decisions she will make in her life.

I don't know what's ahead for her.

I know she will face struggles and have to make decisions.

I know she will have times where her heart will break.

I hope she finds happiness beyond what she can fathom or imagine for herself.

Doesn't every mother want that?

I know she will have decisive moments.

But there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about her and her brothers, that I don't, even unconsciously, dream big in my heart for them.

I feel the truth and power of what he said as I look at her.

She is a potent force for good.

For truth.

For goodness.

For light.

Mostly I never want her to forget who she is.

Where she came from.

That she knows things that are significant and can guide her life, can land her back on the shore after stormy waters. Can be the compass she will need to make it through them.

I know she will need it.

I want her to know and believe she is a bright, shining hope.

That she has truth to carry amid the darkness.

New Beginnings in 2012

2012-01-03T12:55:00.000-07:00

Last night I began the take down/put up process: taking down Christmas, putting up Winter stuff.

I love the start fresh feeling that comes with the new year.

I wanted to capture that freshness and make it seem alive in my front room.

Something invigorating.

I'm still pondering resolutions.

Did you make any?

I want mine to be realistic, measurable, and based on character improvement.

Soul changing.

Person defining.

Love based.

I hope you rang in the new year with joy.

I was sad all of our family togetherness time with our families was over.

It was so much fun.

Today I am taking the tree down. I'm kind of sad to take it down because it was beautiful.

But I'm feeling invigorated by New Beginnings.

We're going to read, go to the grocery store for milk, and go HERE to restock our plugins to make the house smell yum. They are having their semi-annual sale and it is a crazy good sale.

I promised the kids fireworks before bed tonight if we have a good day.

Quiet Time

2011-12-30T10:08:00.000-07:00

Last night I sat right here, reading.

It had been a day full of...stuff.

Reading with the kids.

Riding bikes.

Reading stories.

Buying M&M candy at the store to make some chocolate Christmas cookies.

Chocolate with bright green and red Ms throughout. 

Spent the evening delivering plates of cookies to my neighbors all around and talking with people.

I love my neighborhood and I love the people here.

Mia went with me for the last few and it was so fun.

I feel so conscious of the fact that this little girl won't always want to go with me on every whim, that she'll have more important things to do, that these moments won't last.

Which is why I cherish them.

She was so cute on our deliveries and I could tell, at each house, that everyone else thought that, too.

I tucked her in when we got back and cleaned up my kitchen and swept the floor.

Put all my ribbon and the scissors away.

Restored order.

Later on, I nestled in for reading until Scott got home and we sat and talked for quite a while.

With Benji, who had woken up, and came and sat on his dad's lap.

Then, still later, I tucked him back in bed and giggled with him and his brother who had woken up.

It was a good respite from the past week.

The raunchy mom has been for a visit and I'm ready for her to leave, and for my gentle, patient, loving side to return.

But reading? Its roots go back to my own childhood, with my own mother.

If she had done nothing else, I'd still sing her praises because she gifted me with a love of reading, of words, of stories.  But she did more.

This is what my nightstand looks like.

Do you love to read too?

A quiet chair, winter chill outside, that time of peace before sleep.

It's a lovely, lovely thing.

Watch This

2011-12-29T09:57:00.000-07:00

It is a gray day outside.

Still no snow.

Cold, traces of rain on the sidewalk.

I'm thinking of my winter mantle and need to decide what I'm going to do.

Everything gets switched out next week.

I'm always sad to take it down, but feel weird if it's still up when it clearly isn't Christmas time anymore.

Part of what makes it special is that it's only up for a window of time.

Yesterday was my friend's son's birthday.

He would have been 29.

He died, both mercifully and tragically, a few years ago.

Last night I watched THIS video and was touched by its message.

Powerful, beautiful, sustaining, truth.

I thought about the fallibility of life.

How, in a single second, life as I know it could change.

I thought about wanting to change myself.

To be more gentle.

To look more outward.

To not be harsh in how I speak to others, especially to my children.

To build bridges of love.

To be willing to put myself out there.

That how we interact and treat each other matters.

I wondered, as I have before, what it would be like to lose a child.

I honestly can't imagine it.

But when I think of losing what I love, it inspires me to love better what I have.

It's Wednesday

2011-12-28T13:00:00.002-07:00

The frenzy of the holidays is almost over.

I've had a great time.

But I'm ready to sleep again.

Oh, and read.

And stop running around and spend time with my kids.

I am trying to remember that today.

Got out of bed.

After snuggling for a long while with Mia, again.

(She was there when I woke up.)

She proceeded to talk to me for a long while about things.

I do remember something about princesses.

(I was still a bit foggy.)

Yesterday morning she made me laugh because she was telling me that her new baby she got from Papa for Christmas, who she named Eliza, was in the United State.

And that she was teaching princesses to dance.

I love hearing snippets of our conversations come back out of Mia's mouth in such a way that says she absorbed the vocabulary, but is still trying it on for meaning and size.

We made pancakes and banana shake.

Did reading lessons and I worked hard on having patience as they are learning.

If I am flustered, it isn't positive for them and then it becomes this equation:

Reading = Not Fun.

We had success today.

Read stories.

Now we're headed out to try out their sweet new bikes.

Hope you have a great Wednesday.

Morning Snuggling and Holiday Cheer

2011-12-27T10:48:00.000-07:00

Yesterday a lot of businesses were closed due to observation of Christmas.

I declared it an observation-of-Christmas day here, too, and didn't blog.  

I awoke this morning from a dream where I was trying to nurse a baby boy. 

I had found him, realized that somehow he was like two weeks old, and I hadn't been nursing him.

I was waiting for that familiar feeling of a comfortable latch and the subsequent smooth tugging that follows.

I wondered if I could bring my milk back, starting so late.

And, just for the record, I'm not pregnant.

Then I woke up and Mia was lying in my bed, snuggling next to me, awake, waiting for me to wake up.

She snuggled in to me and put her arms around me.

I told her, because I was still thinking about my dream, about she and I and our nursing days.

Right after we moved in our house, I'd hear her awake in the morning.

It was one of my favorite times of the day.

I'd go and get her out of bed and return to mine.  We'd snuggle together and she'd nurse for a long while.  The boys would play elsewhere, so my room would be quiet and it was just she and I.

I think I thought those days would be gone once she quit nursing, but not with this gal.

I felt especially grateful for it today.

She still crawls in to snuggle and relax and be quiet.

I love it so much.

And I have so much I could blog about from the weekend.  It'll have to come in stages.

So, for the first installment.

On Christmas Eve we gathered round the table for a sumptuous spread and listened to The Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols.  It was lovely, complete with admiring the Rudolph features on the Rudolph's car.  (Yes, their last name IS Rudolph...two of my favorite folks in this world.)

Then, off to the family cabin for time with family.

My very favorite part of the nite was when my father-in-law talked with everyone about the birth of the Christ child, and then asked all of the adults to bear testimony.  A sweet, powerful, palpable feeling filled the air.  I felt connected to my husband, to this family we're raising, to the spiritual experiences of the past few months, for all that we're going through, trying to understand, being incredibly blessed with, and watching the whole general thing unfold.

Then, we goofed around.  And it was a blast.

I love these ladies and these men.

December the 23rd

2011-12-23T15:19:00.002-07:00

This morning I could hear Benji at the bottom of the stairs singing,
"Bring me flesh and bring me wine!" and then humming the rest of that Good King Wenceslas line because he didn't know the words.

It was kind of cracking me up.

Tomorrow is Christmas Eve.

I spent the morning running around doing the last of the shopping:

a bit for stockings, some for Christmas breakfast, tape for wrapping, etc.

Then picked up my kids and chatted with my good friends, and had some good laughs.

I love living in a neighborhood where I feel surrounded by family, and where there are people here that I know have my back.

It truly is a blessing beyond something I can express.

Tomorrow morning we will be up for a delish breakfast while tuning into THIS.

This is how we always begin our Christmas celebrating.

Love love love.

Then we'll head up the canyon to spend the rest of the day with Scott's family and I'm bringing the rolls.

Back home to stuff stockings and tuck in and revel in that magical expectancy that is Christmas Eve night.

Organ playing and I plan to bust my girdle with letting those pipes sing praises on Christmas morning at church.

Then, ya know. Stockings and presents and I'm gonna make quiche for our breakfast brunch.

Off to holiday dinner and lots of time with more family.

I so love this time of year.

This is my favorite holiday, by far.

But it's because I feel deeply in my heart the true meaning of the season.

My heart resonates with the message of the Christ child.

I am grateful He came.

I am more grateful that He did what He said He would do.

I am humbled it was for me. And for you, too.

I know this.

I rejoice, and then rejoice again.

Exuberantly and quietly, in profound awe and gratitude.

I'm wishing you...

and

for your Christmas.

May your festivities be merry and bright.

xoxo

This Morning...

2011-12-22T10:40:00.000-07:00

Do you think anyone's excited about Christmas around here?

We all are.

This morning...at breakfast.

So glad to have a camera to capture the Christmas excitement this weekend.

Are you ready...only 3 days away!!

On Sunday night, we were at a community Christmas program.

The readings were from Nikki Grimes' book Voices of Christmas.

I loved all the readings, but this one was last, and I love the introspection it prompts.

It is titled You.

"And who are you?

Not an angel, no.

Nor Herod.

But perhaps you are

a magi, mapping the miracle

on a chart of stars;

a shepherd

trading sheep

for a chance to seek

a golden child

in swaddling clothes;

a Simeon

who has hoped for a lifetime

to find the one called

Emmanuel, God with us.

Or are you like Mary,

prayerfully waiting

for the King of Kings

to be born in you?

Well, He is here!

Sing! Sing 'O, Holy Night.'

Run toward His Light!"

Let It Snow...Please!!

2011-12-21T11:03:00.001-07:00

One of my wishes today??? 

This is what it looked like last year at this time.

We are still waiting for the first decent snow storm here.

It's sad.

But this morning I woke up to flakes coming down.

I'm hoping hoping hoping that maybe we'll get a white Christmas.

Fingers crossed!

Ornaments

2011-12-20T10:54:00.004-07:00

This morning I've been cleaning up and organizing gifts to wrap: one pile for each person.

A couple dear friend gifts.

Gift for my sister.

Gift for our Mom and Dad on Scott's side.

Neighbor gift.

And still have a bunch more on top of that.

But it is fun.

The holiday spirit is in the air.

Tidying my house.

Doing laundry (I love the smell of bleach when I'm washing my whites, and my laundry room is warm with that clean smell permeating the air).

Loving the twinkle lights on my tree.

Which brings me to this.

Took the kids this year to each pick out their own ornament for the tree, calling back yesteryear.

Scott's family would go into San Francisco at the Christmas season and pick out a new ornament for the tree as a little boy.

This is what they chose.

It Goes So Fast

2011-12-19T11:18:00.000-07:00

Well, I was going to post dollhouse pics.

But my camera broke.

I'm beyond thrilled that we're going to fork out a chunk for a new camera when so much money is already being forked out.

Can you tell?

Anyway, we had a birthday.

Lately I've thought a lot about this sweet baby. 

I remember this

and this

and this

and this

 and this.

It's like a dream, almost as if it were yesterday.

She has been a joy since the moment she was born.

I've loved every minute.

Dollhousing

2011-12-15T08:41:00.004-07:00

Finishing this by this weekend.

Here are the finished walls and floors:

Coming Monday?  A post showing all the rooms, furnished, with an explanation on each room.

Doesn't it make you want to add a blast of color to your own house??

10 Glorious Words

2011-12-14T00:06:00.000-07:00

if

fin

rim

in

ram

ran

sin

math

sis

thin

Each of the boys, independently and on their own, read these 10 words yesterday during our reading lessons.

Praise the Lord!!

Feeling Christmas in Our Hearts

2011-12-13T09:47:00.000-07:00

Last night we ate spaghetti (Mia's request),

cut out sugar cookies (for fun),

read about the annunciation to Mary, the journey to Bethlehem and birth of Christ, the shepherds and the wise men from the scriptures,

and then watched this film.

As I was reading the verses in Luke 2 when the Savior is born, I choked up.

Benji asked something about what was happening to my voice, and I told him that sometimes something touches you. I told him it was that way for me because I love this story.

Afterward, we ate sugar cookies coated with buttery frosting, bedecked with the sprinkle color of choice.

This December has been refreshing.

Yes, I've felt exhausted at times.

I mean, it is December right? Sometimes the sheer flurry of activity seems to suck the focus away into things that don't feed the soul.

But I found myself thinking yesterday about how lovely it has been, how anxious I am to hold onto every second, how sad I will be to see it go.

It has been a great time of renewal.

There has been a lot of quiet pondering for me.

Beautiful, lovely, inspiring music that has taken my heart every day, all throughout the day, to the manger.

Every night, reading in low Christmas-tree light with the children about the Savior.

Lots of questions, really thoughtful ones, from the boys, that have lead to some incredible discussions.

I have felt testimony, so tangible in the air, and it has set me thriving again and again.

I feel it every night. It's my favorite time of day.

Our own advent. Lighting candles, reading sacred words. Reflecting on the story of all stories.

And the result?

Inside, to ponder what it means to me.

I have felt that envelop me, and I've been basking in it.

I tremble inside as the sheer beauty and astonishment of the message touch me.

I read this on another blog yesterday and it stopped me in my tracks. Don't you just love this quote by Madeleine L'Engle?

"Was there a moment, known only to God, when all the stars held their breath, when the galaxies paused in their dance for a fraction of a second, and the Word, who had called it all into being, went with all his love into the womb of a young girl, and the universe started to breathe again, and the ancient harmonies resumed their song, and the angels clapped their hands for joy?"

I feel the anticipation, the miraculous wonder of the story of the Christ child, and rejoice again that it isn't just a sweet story.

It happened.

It's real.

I'm waiting and watching and trying to recognize Him every day.

Right now.

I'm trying to bathe in that joy, and let the truth soak in all the brittle places in my heart, in my life, in my mistakes, in my joys.

It's a lovely, warm, reassuring, glorious place.

Remembering Miracles

2011-12-12T10:34:00.000-07:00

Last week at lunchtime we were eating waffles.

Benji said something about how he was going to do one of Jesus' miracles.

And then proceeded to break up his waffle into pieces.

When I asked him which one, he made reference to the loaves and fishes.

But I think he may have had it slightly confused, because I think he also referred to Christ's miracle at Cana.

It has all been up for discussion the past couple weeks as we've been reading about the Savior's life.

I felt gratitude that these stories about Jesus are sticking.

Glad that it's coming up in his mind doing every-day things.

And grateful that he may be on the road to the symbolic.

My mind went there.

How Jesus multiplies for us.

How He can make something meager into something astonishing, beautiful, staggering.

How He feeds and nourishes, particularly emotionally, spiritually, and mentally.

His endless compassion.

How He can always make something more.

I think of one of my favorite scriptures where he said, "I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly."

(!!!!)

I hope Benji will someday grasp all of this and more.

And not just grasp it, but believe.

Having a Girl

2011-12-09T10:07:00.001-07:00

Having a girl is like remembering pieces of yourself from the past, or recognizing them again.

One or the other, or maybe both.

Like watching this girl the other day.

I was reading with Benji when she came into the room like this.

Makeup on, bow in her hair, dress on.

She was dancing around.

Beauty. 

Simplicity. 

Simple Joy. 

Innocence.

Feeling beautiful.

Having a girl lets you witness the tenderness in her heart.

It means watching emotion as it's raw and new.

It's watching her pretend she's 30, and knowing inside, that one day she'll get there.

Will she remember this?

Will she know the loveliness inside her?

I hope so.

December the 8th

2011-12-08T10:40:00.001-07:00

I've been so exhausted.

Sound familiar to anyone else?

I mean...it is December and all.

It has kind of been a happy, busy exhausted, but it has been catching up to me.

I've been burning the midnight oil for several nights running.

I've felt like there's a cold waiting to tango with me, just on the brink of getting in the door.

Yesterday afternoon, with the kids around me, cutting their own fabric scraps, I was cutting out pieces for the duvets in the dollhouse.

I had every intention of working on it late last night.

But then, still late, I climbed into my bed with a new book from a friend, and just relaxed for a few minutes until I turned out my light because my eyes were burning.

So, I caved this morning.

I didn't take the boys to preschool.

The time came and went and they were happily playing, doing who knows what.

I let myself sleep.

When I woke up, I picked up the book I began last night, already totally sucked into the story.

I read.

Got the announcement, via text, of the birth of my friend's baby.

Awwh.

Heard the mail drop down into the slot and went to find another Christmas card (I anticipate the mail every day because I love love love them).

Crawled back into my bed and read some more.

Just barely got up and am going to go make a big, fat, delicious breakfast for us all.

But when I got up, this is what I found the children had been doing happily for some time.

And the best part?

Normally I would tell them no way, not in this room, you know we don't play on this couch or take all the pillows off.

You know what I'm talking about.

But nope, not this morning.

Sometimes you are blessed with a clear perspective -- the kind where you see the adventures and magic of childhood imagination and you can't possibly step in and ruin it.

I walked by, smiled when they told me what they were up to, and just let them continue right on.

A small success in letting something small go that I typically get my panties tied in a knot over, and focusing on the things that matter most.

I'm sure that made them happy, but it made me oh so happy.

I was little once.

They help me remember that.

Once A Month...

2011-12-07T11:16:00.001-07:00

Assorted treats (some not pictured).

Books.

Laughter.

Friends.

Talking, talking, talking.

Jokes about book content and preference.

White elephanting.

Lots of women.

Last night was book club.

So. Much. Fun.

Wanna Laugh?

2011-12-06T12:02:00.001-07:00

Wanna know what I laughed at this morning?

Dropped off a Christmas card and was chatting with my friend.

She showed me a clip of her husband that's gotten quite the few views on youTube.

Boy, can he shake it.

Check it out HERE.

Something Special To Me

2011-12-05T09:44:00.001-07:00

One of my favorite Christmas tree ornaments?

These.

I have them all over my tree.

When my Grams moved out of her apartment to move in with my aunt for the last few months of her life, I was looking through things that were left behind.

I found a box of Christmas ornaments, and lots of these were inside.

They were the prize.

They are pieces of a bedspread my great-grandmother made and presented to her daughter, my Grandma Vera, on her wedding day in 1940.

I think about them as I look at the tree.

I feel conscious of my mothers that have gone before.

I feel grateful for their talents and gifts.

I remember them.

It's All About Jesus

2011-12-02T00:35:00.001-07:00

Yesterday morning we were across the street delivering a Christmas card to an older couple we love.

I was in the kitchen talking with Deon, and Mia had walked into the front room to look at the purple balls on their Christmas tree with Ralph.

He came back in and was chuckling as he told us what Mia had said during their exchange.

They must have been looking at the baby Jesus in the manger scene, because Mia told Ralph,

"There was a real baby Jesus, actually."

Tonight as I was tucking her into bed, she was asking me questions about Jesus.

Where is He?

Was he resurrected?

We discussed who Mary was, and then she told me that Joseph was Jesus' dad.

It was December 1st.

I got to start something with the children that I've been anticipating for a couple weeks.

After dinner, we cleaned up.

I had them grab their blankies and pillows again.

Each picked a spot.

We turned out the lights (except for the twinkles of the tree and mantle).

I gave them each a piece from a candy cane.

We lit the pyramid and watched the design it made on the ceiling.

And I read them the first chapter of Charles Dickens' The Life of Our Lord.

Dickens wrote this book to his children, telling them all about the Savior and incidents that happened in his life.

The room was quiet while I read.

Benji asked for more after we finished.

I told them that we'd read a little bit every night, before bed. We'll light the pyramid while we read and snuggle up and listen.

One more way for us to think again about what this is all about.

Because, as Isaiah informed me while we were driving home looking at Christmas lights tonight, "Christmas is really all about Jesus, Mom."

We'll read more tonight.

I think this might be a new tradition for every December until the children are older.

I'm so excited.

Storytelling

2011-12-01T09:12:00.001-07:00

Yesterday, while the kids were napping, after I'd worked out and showered, I climbed into my bed with my wet hair in a towel turban on my head and read this book. (The same book I'm referring to in this post.)

I read what she wrote about taking time for storytelling with your children.

Not the kind that's in a book, but spinning tales from your imagination, and letting the children have that opportunity, too.

I was intrigued and decided to give it a shot.

After dinner, we had baths (including the boys giggling about their bare buns and me chasing them to the bathtub with my thumb and forefinger ready to pinch, saying, "I like to squeeze 'em, squeeze 'em!").

Insert: giggling from the boys.

We straightened up.

Boiled water in the kettle until it began whistling.

Took it off the stove and turned off all the lights except for the Christmas tree and the twinklies on the mantle.

I told the kids to each grab their pillows and blankies and pick a spot.

Isaiah was on the floor.

Mia and Benji were each in their own chair.

Benji went first, and told two stories that they have heard a few times over about my childhood/adolescence.

One about being burned by hot applesauce right off the stove at 4, leaving huge red welts on my neck and chest.

And one about skinny dipping with two of my sisters, in broad daylight in Southern Utah, on the 4th of July.

They love the skinny dipping one.

When Benji was done, Isaiah said he didn't have one to tell, so we came to Mia.

I wish I could capture this scene because it was so funny.

She began to tell the same stories that Benji had just told.

But when she got to the part about the applesauce spilling, she said that it spilled.

And then she said, "And it went down [and her hands were going from her neck to her chest while she was saying this] to her breath?" And she looked at me with that question tone in her voice.

The boys are at the stage where they think stuff is funny because they catch on to what she's trying to say now.

They start giggling, and I start laughing.

I say, "Breast?"

And she agreed.

I'm still not sure if she was trying to referring to breasts or chest.

The jury is out.

But it was hysterical.

Then she went on in her very detailed, descriptive, expressive way of talking.

Then I spun quite the imaginative tale of a elf named Twinkletoes that came to visit some children on Christmas Eve, who were waiting for the father to come home from purchasing candy canes to decorate on the Christmas tree for Santa.

Then we drank hot chocolate.

And I read them our second Christmas story, which was called The Popcorn Tree.

These kids are so fun.

I love coming to know them as people, not just as my children.

It is a privilege beyond measure.

It was one of those nights where I felt I'd done parenting right.

I love those nights.

Last Night

2011-11-30T12:27:00.001-07:00

Last night after dinner, we began a new tradition.  

Each night a different Christmas story.

I checked out a slew of them from library.

We read Rocking Horse Christmas and I loved it.  I thought it captured beautifully the magic of childhood, the fleeting nature of time, tucked into chronological Christmas bookends.

Then I tucked them all into bed and sat on the stair outside their bedrooms and sang them a new carol on my guitar.

And then was up into the wee hours addressing Christmas cards so I could send a bunch off today.

Hurray...they're gone!

If you want a lovely little folksy Christmas tune, go HERE and on the right side of the page you'll see the "Come Let Us Adore Him" album.  Click on the "Stars of Glory" track.  LOVE.  And "In The Bleak Midwinter."  And any others you might fancy...

Hope you are ready for December 1st. I can't believe it's here.

A Sunday Funny

2011-11-29T09:20:00.001-07:00

A week ago we were driving to my Mom's for Thanksgiving dinner.

I drove so Scott could read to the children (so we wouldn't end up with one of us carsick).  ;)

We were reading one of the Grimm Fairy Tales.

The children requested "Six Servants."

At the beginning of the tale, you read about a prince who has come from another land seeking the hand of a "dazzling" princess.  Her mother is a witch-queen who requires that any lad seeking her daughter has to accomplish three tasks.  The tasks are, of course, too difficult for any mortal to accomplish on their own.  So, of course, all previous gentlemen have failed.

When the prince arrives he says to the Witch Queen, "You have a beautiful Princess daughter.  I intend to win and wed her, and am ready for any task you may set me."

At which point, Scott stopped reading and turning around to the kids, said, "That's what I said to Poppi about your mom."  Then, as if talking to my dad, he continued, "You have a beautiful daughter.  I intend to win and wed her, and am ready for any task you may set me."

How gallant. 

Pretty sure that's not how it went down, but oh boy.

It was funny, nonetheless. 

I am glad, though, that he was willing to take a chance on me.

Social Cues

2011-11-28T09:53:00.001-07:00

If you're wondering about social graces, just ask Mia.

She'll tell ya.

A few weeks back, Scott was in the bathroom helping Mia wipe her bottom.

And she comes out with this:

"We DO NOT say butt.  Your bum is your butt, but we do not say butt.

We DO NOT say 'Shut your mouth.'

And we DO NOT call people fat."

The Day After Thanksgiving

2011-11-25T09:04:00.001-07:00

What are you doing today? 

Maybe you're out shopping among the throngs?

Or making something with all the Thanksgiving leftovers? 

I'm taking care of a sick baby.

We're going to take a nap.

Go Christmas tree shopping this afternoon. 

Put up the tree and deck the halls.

Read some stories.

I hope we start feeling better around here.

There is a carpet of leaves outside in my back and front yards.

But I've got to be inside with this little one.

I'm hoping she can fall asleep and her tummy will let her rest.

Hope you all had a good Thanksgiving.

And maybe you'll find this amusing, too.  It's so charming.

I love how the cows all line up and stay at attention, totally loving the music.

This weekend we have an extended family brunch, putting up more Christmas lights, raking the yard clean, and listening to Handel's Messiah with friends and eating yum dessert to ring in the season.

My Happiness IS...

2011-11-24T10:01:00.001-07:00

The past few months I have been thinking a lot.

About various, pains-of-the-heart and other stress-givers.

About recognizing blessings amidst struggle.

I've asked why.

I've felt blessed.

I've fallen into the trap of comparing.

Why is it that it can be so easy to look at your situation, and then look at another's, and stack things up? See how things measure up, or don't.

What once was bringing you joy suddenly can seem to pale in comparison to something else.

Suddenly, you go from thinking "my happiness is..." to "my happiness isn't...".

It's a muddy business.

When my perspective is clear, I feel so much love.

So much joy.

So much peace.

Content.

And actually, it is almost always accompanied with feeling as though my cup is literally overflowing.

I feel warm and gentle inside, easily moved, easily grateful.

Not calloused.

Generous.

I want to be that way all the time.

I want that feeling in my heart to be constant, my reaching to others always sincere, always heartfelt, always with genuine happiness.

You can always find something that you don't have (and I'm not referring to just monetary things) or that you feel you should have or that you wish was different, but I'm convinced that happiness isn't motivated by these things.

It comes from recognition.

From sharing, and recognizing, the love of God.

From recognizing the value in experience, and learning for yourself that He's there.

It doesn't happen when the lens is "my happiness isn't...".

My goal is to focus on MY HAPPINESS IS...

Like the simple joy in reading books with my children.

In running in the late afternoon fall chill, just before evening sets on. We are running, reciting the ABCs and their sounds, or talking about the Christmas decorations popping up in our hood.

It comes from seeing their industriousness (and simple delight) in some paper plates, paper cups, plastic spoons, and being let loose and at liberty to dig in the yard and make fall soup with leaves and mud and water. Or whatever else they want to do.
With having a furnace that works.

Children snuggled into their beds.

A library close by.

A husband who works hard and loves his family.

Good food on our table and in our bellies.

It comes from what we know.

From friendships that grace our lives.

Morning sunlight and warm covers.

Running -- exercise feels SO good.

Holding a child close in the night.

Beautiful music.

Gentle and powerful reminders of who we really are and what the focus really is -- or needs to be.

I hope you have a great Thanksgiving.

Haircut

2011-11-23T10:53:00.001-07:00

 This is what we did last Saturday.

 She likes it.

I think she looks cute.

 Success.

Snippets from Yesterday

2011-11-22T10:01:00.001-07:00

Yesterday I was in a frenzy making a pile to go to our local charitable donations center.

It feels so good to know I'm going to shed a few clutter pounds.

Late in the afternoon, before leaving up to our friends' ranch in the mountains for dinner and a group family home evening, I gathered the kids around me to read stories.  When Benji heard we were going to read he said something like, "I've been waiting for this."  This kid is so spunky but often surprises me with his sweet spirit and tenderness just below the surface.

On our way up the canyon, Isaiah came out with this, "Did you know that when Jesus was put on the cross, Mary was right there?"  And then he asked, "Why did they put Him on the cross?"  We turned down the music and talked about how it was to fulfill prophecy, that prophets thousands of years before knew He was going to come, and knew how He would die.  He could have died another way, but this was how it was foretold to happen.

Then, last night, after eating a meal, we gathered around to have a gospel discussion.  After that, my favorite thing happened.  We sang three Christmas carols together.  We were a mix of folks -- in age, background, vocation, personality.  A cattle farmer.  An entrepreneur with a young, thriving business.  A boutique/home decor store owner and her husband who surfaced furnaces before he retired.  An accountant.  A professional musician.  Mothers and fathers and big kids and little kids and babies and grandkids.  But everyone? Friends.  Some there could carry a tune, others would say that music isn't their strong suit.  I sat by my neighbor who grew up on a ranch.  He's been a cowboy all his life.  Wears cowboy boots and wranglers every day.  Can think of ways to use and re-use things over and over, and will give you the shirt off his back.  I'd never heard him sing before.  It was a lovely thing to sit and hear all of us together.  I felt something then.  It was sweet and gentle, unifying, and strong.  I knew what we were singing was true, but I was touched by the sense of brotherhood and love that was so tangible in the air.

We got home late.

Pajamas, teeth brushed, stories, scriptures, prayer.

I went and tucked in sweet little Miss.

She wanted me to sing her a song and cried until I slipped back into her room.

I sat on her bed and sang her a lullaby I learned from my sister, singing it with her daughter and her guitar.

Then I went in to check on my boys.  They were still awake, one about in slip into Neverland for the night.

I sang them the same lullaby.  My favorite lines?

"It's time to kick off your walkin' shoes," and "Dream that you have wings to fly."

Then I whispered that they were nincumpoops, a word I recently taught them that they find quite amusing.

"Ya little nincumpoops."

To which Isaiah responded, "You're a BIG nincumpoop."

And I said, "You're the stinkiest nincumpoop."

(Giggles.)

I walked out.

And then stuck my head back in and said, "Pee-yoooooo!"

(Eruption of giggles.)

Sometimes I enjoy them so much.

Feel so aware that this time is magical.

A Thought for the Week

2011-11-21T12:33:00.001-07:00

I love this quote that I read last week from Scott's blog.

I've googled it and it appears the author is unknown.

This might be another one that needs to go on my fridge.

I Choose...

to live by choice, not by chance;

to make changes, not excuses;

to be motivated, not manipulated;

to be useful, not used;

to excel, not compete.

I choose self-esteem, not self-pity.

I choose to listen to my inner voice,

not the random opinion of others.

Late At Night

2011-11-18T09:16:00.001-07:00

Book group was so fun last night.

I _LOVE_ the women I live around.

I love our neighborhood.

I love talking and laughing.

Having friends is such a wonderful thing.

After everyone left, I talked to a friend on the phone til way late.

We understand each other.

We're on the same wavelength in so many ways.

I love friends like that.

Then I got off the phone and talked to Scott for another 40 minutes or something.

Finally decided it was time to crash.

I was heading back to the kitchen for something at about 12:40 and something,

and thought I saw a little shape on the stairs.

Was I seeing something, or was somebody there?

I turned on the light and there was our sweet Mia, curled up about halfway down.

She came up.

She crawled in bed between us.

The three of us talked for a little bit.

She's adorable.

I lay between her and Scott, knowing I wouldn't be able to sleep until she was back in her bed because of how we were all positioned.

But I watched her eyes in the dark.

I thought of my night watching as a little girl.

We lived on a busy street and the lights from the cars would scale across the walls and I would watch them travel across the sky of my bedroom's ceiling.

I watched her eyes looking around, start drifting downward.

Then she turned and looked at me in the dark, locked with my eyes, and smiled at me.

She turned her head to the side and her cheeks and little face were nestled right against mine with her eyes closed.

I love moments like this.

(Weekend plans include: friends for dinner, Christmas choir rehearsal, putting up Christmas lights and having something warm and yummy afterwards because it's supposed to be snowing. Church. And Thanksgiving dinner at my Mom's.
Go ahead, twist my arm.
Pretty sure I don't mind having that meal twice.)

Making Music

2011-11-17T09:21:00.003-07:00

The other night we turned around and there was Mia, like this.

She had the pan on her head and was playing it with a spoon, swaying her hips side to side.

This is my favorite shot: her little profile -- nose, cheek, lip and chin.

Just as cute as she's always been.

It reminded me of this storybook my mother read to us as children, and all of us still talk about it and want our own copy. In the wedding procession, there are tin pan bangers. Mia would have fit right in.

Today I am going to carve out time to spend time

with the kids and do what they want to do.

I'm going to make fresh bread.

Make some soup or lasagna.

Maybe rake leaves out in the front yard.

Get out and enjoy the last of the sunshine before it snows this weekend.

Clean bathrooms.

Exercise.

And get ready for book club tonight (that's why we're cleaning the bathrooms). Ahem.

We are discussing this book, an incredible WWII biography.

It was so gripping and inspiring.

I love good books.

Meaningful Conversation

2011-11-16T08:57:00.001-07:00

(a November morning in our backyard, two years ago)

Just came in from dropping the boys off to school.

The grass is tipped in white.

Your breath floats visible in front of you out there.

And when I jumped out to walk the boys up to their teachers and ran back to the car, I felt like I'd been flash frozen.

It's cold.

I was running on Monday and thinking about a conversation I'd had with one of my dear, dear friends on Sunday night.

I had sent her a message telling her how smokin she looks (she's gone through an incredible journey the past couple of years and lost a lot of weight), and it started an exchange that ended up going back and forth.

So then I said, "And here we are discussing only skin beauty here...I KNOW you've got a beautiful soul."

(And here's where I'm essentially going to give you the play by play leading up to the exclamation point of the conversation and where my mind's been since.)

She text back and said, "You've got a smokin hot soul."

So then I responded and said, "There are parts that are ugly and stenchy and need the Savior for sure, but I guess that goes for all of us, right?"
"Absolutely. We all do."

"Ya I guess that's the good thing."

"Yep. We're all in desperate need of His grace (loved that line). I'm just thankful He offers it so freely."

I responded and said, "I want to understand that more. How do I access it more freely? How can I see the way He sees? How do I really change the things that desperately need changing?

She said, "Yes, I wish I understood better too. To me it involves staying humble and very close to Him. It means asking for it with real intent, having firm faith that it will come. I've been thinking about that a lot lately."

And then she said something that hit me so deeply. I've been thinking about it ever since. It needs to go up on my fridge.

"Do we truly know that is His mission and purpose, His work, and that He has every intention of getting us there?"

That question hasn't left me alone the past few days.

It's truth seems to be ricocheting inside of me.

My favorite part?

Do we believe that "...He has every intention of getting us there?"

I'll be feasting on, and pondering this, for days.

Busy Doing Calisthenics

2011-11-14T12:35:00.001-07:00

Last Friday, I was in the shower after doing plyometrics.

Benji was in my room, right outside the bathroom, busy.

He told me he was exercising.

I thought it was kinda cute and figured he was just goofin around.

But when I got out of the shower, he was busy doing this.

I am so loving the boots.

He was focused.

He went back and forth, up and down, for a good 15 minutes or so -- with only small breaks in between.

You could tell he was totally proud of himself, kind of struttin his stuff.

I was impressed (and amused).

And he was cracking me up with his use of "despicable" yesterday.

He was at the table, matching letters, when I heard him say,
"I am despicable."

I heard it other times as well.

I think he's trying it on for size because I don't think he has any idea what it means.

Funny, funny, funny.

I think I've got a little Superman in training.

Weekend Athletics

2011-11-14T10:15:00.004-07:00

(These are our men before the race started.) 

We had a really fun Friday and Saturday.

Drove down south with some good friends, sans children, for Scott and Steve to compete in their first sprint triathalon.

I believe we've just started a new tradition of athletic events we'll do together (aside from running).

  We went out to eat, got frozen custard, swam in the pool, stayed up talking late.

Relaxing and enjoyable. 

 (Before jumping in the pool to begin.)

Steve placed 2nd in his age division, and Scott placed 3rd in his.   

It was a lot of fun.  

 We had some good laughs.

Made a good memory.

Definitely want to do it again.

And...do you want to know who won the giveaway????
Lisa Judd! 
Congrats!!

Friday Nothings

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

What's on my mind?

Scott's triathalon tomorrow morning. He and our good friend are competing and it's gonna be a blast. We're going to have a good time as a foursome.

Christmas decorating.

All the stuff I have yet to do and the Christmas season is officially two weeks away.

Ah, well...

We just finished breakfast and this gal was voice for the prayer.

Let me tell you, when this girls prays, everything is beautiful.

She's thankful for her beautiful blessings, the beautiful day, the beautiful food, the beautiful Isaiah (or Benji or Mom or Dad or whoever she's looking at). She might look around the room and pray for all the beautiful things her eyes light upon, too.

I'm pretty sure I should try looking through this lens and view everything beautifully.

Especially this morning after doing P90X's Plyometrics workout.

Just under an hour of merciless jumping and squatting and tucking and lunging.

Sheesh.

It's been a while since I've done that workout.

I felt like I might throw up at one point.

Now I'm walking like a gimp, my legs are jelly.

I think my buns are gonna fall off.

(The giveaway drawing is today at noon. You have just over two hours to enter if you still want to.
Go HERE to know what to do. Good luck!)

Smooching

2011-11-10T09:11:00.002-07:00

It's 9:11 a.m. I'm sitting at the computer with Norah Jones on in the background.
I love her stuff.

I was trying to think of what to post about today.

My mind went to a little game that I play with my boys, particularly this one.

But first, I'll tell you a story.

When I was a little girl, my dad was everything to me, a best friend.
He still is.

But he was very, very busy.

He would be gone early in the morning and home late at night.

But here's one little snapshot memory that happened more than once.

My room's dark, the hall light spilling across the carpet.

I can still hear my sisters moving around in the house and the quiet sounds of night.

And then I'd hear the back door in the kitchen open and close.

And I knew my dad was home.

I'd go to the foot of my bed, look down the hallway, and yell,

"Da------------ddy! Daaaaaaaddddyyyy!"

I'd wait for him to come up to my room.

He'd talk to us for a few minutes, or tickle us, or sometimes read us another story.

Sometimes, if we were downstairs and he was getting us up to bed, he'd have us run or he was gonna tickle us. We'd squeal with delight and pretend we didn't want to be chased and tickled, but we were reveling in it.

But (and here's where we come to today, and what continues).

He would often tease us with what I'll call "the smooch."

He'd slurp loudly and get his lips all wet and then my sister and I would dive under covers and squirm and laugh and try to hide from his lips coming to plant a big smacker on us. I treasure that memory.

This tradition continues at our house, especially with this one.

I'll tuck him in and lather up my lips and try to plant one on him when he's squirming and laughing and wriggling every which way. And then he likes to do it back to me.

Sometimes I wet willy his ear.

Or, sometimes it happens like this. We're taking a cute little shot of the boys giving me a kiss.

Which then falls apart into this, both of them trying to put a smooch on my cheeks:

Ah, well.

It's fun.

(And the free getaway winner is drawn tomorrow. You've got just over 26 hours to enter if you want to be in the drawing. Go HERE to know what you need to do.)

It Begins With The Blessed Letter C

2011-11-09T08:37:00.000-07:00

(the boys, gettin it done)

Okay.

Once upon a time, I read something in The Omnivore's Dilemma about how it is possible to determine a person's diet by examining the makeup of their cells.

So super fascinating.

(Maybe that would explain the above photographs too...ya know, genetics and all.)

I have decided that mine would definitely have signs of two things I love.

Namely, the passionate love I have for peanut butter.

AND as far as this post will cover today...for that beloved fruit and byproduct of the cocoa bean that begins with the blessed letter C. Chocolate.

(the boys, wearing it well)

It should be said with blessedness.

And I also swear that, once upon a time, I knew how to do simple addition.

It didn't go like this, tho.

I give you the way that math is done these days in these parts.

Me + each additional year of aging = an increasing violent! demand (URGENT!) for chocolate.

Chocolate + caramel.

Chocolate just plain.

Dark.

Milk.

White.

Liquified or Set.

Hot or cold.

Would prefer the European varieties (because I love cream), but I stoop low and partake of (and enjoy) most American renditions, too.

It's pretty much almost essentially a daily requirement (and yes, I did just use all those words together, thank-you-very-much).

It's pathetic that I really can't hardly go a day without it.

And this seems to be the equation of my life.

Oh. Good. Henry.

I don't know whether to cry or celebrate.

(I so understand their joy -- and how it can't seem to stay contained in the mouth...but must spread to hair and hands and arms and clothing too.)

Ah me...I guess I'll have to post about peanut butter another day. Oh. my. yum.

(If you haven't entered the free giveaway yet, go HERE to do so. The winner is drawn on Friday at noon and, well...I'm cheering for all of you.)

She Tells It How It Is

2011-11-08T08:39:00.000-07:00

This gal has been potty-trained since sometime in the summer.  But once in a while we have accidents. 

A few weeks back they were happening pretty frequently.  I had told her on a few different occasions that if she kept having accidents she'd have to wear diapers in the day again. 

I knew she wouldn't want to do that.

She's too much of a grown up little person, and I knew that'd just make her ears itch.

For the most part, it has worked.  She's had hardly any accidents the last while.

But last week, she gave me a laugh.

I asked her, "Mia, if you don't go pee pee in the potty, what happens?"

(Prompting, in my mind, of course, that she'd have to wear diapers again.)

Her response?

"Your mom will be frustrated with you."

Awesome.

Ah, well.

Sometimes I really shine.

Trying Again

2011-11-07T11:29:00.003-07:00

Last night we were at Scott's brother's house, playing Apples to Apples, eating dessert, hanging out and talking. It was nice and cozy and warm. The kids built forts, us girlsies chatted.

(pic taken in June 2010)

The guys talked and were looking at stuff on the computer. It was so fun to be together.

Then we bundled up and went home into the dark.

Darkness is settling in on the valley. Daylight savings time came and it's dark before 6 now. It's cold out, moisture in the air. We listened to The Cambridge Singers singing Christmas carols on the way home, looking at the lights from buildings, and, eventually, our quiet street.

Everyone was tired. We got the kids in PJs, brushed teeth, read scriptures and said family prayer. During the prayer, I felt Mia's little hands softly touching my eyelashes, still accented by mascara. Then she was touching my earrings. As this was happening, I had this distinct impression. I'm still her everything.

She's watching me.

She's learning about womanhood from me.

What it means to mother.

How we talk to each other.

How I act under stress.

What I think is important.

How to be a wife.

How you show love and compassion.

That's a tall order.

One I most certainly have small successes with sometimes.

One where I also make lots of mistakes, and teach her things, by my own example, that even I don't believe are right.

I felt so aware, once again, of wanting to try harder.

To try to give my best.

Because I want so much for them, and I can't possibly be everything that I want them to learn.

Already this morning, waking up about 7 to fighting and slamming doors downstairs, I was very aware of having tired children (time change and all). Already feeling frustrated because it just seemed like it was going to be one of those off days where folks get frustrated easily and there's lots of crying and fighting.

Already stubbing my toes at patience.

I remember this, before we had kids.

It was just the two of us.

Motherhood was the perfect dream in the distance.

When I thought I would never...you name it.

I wouldn't ever yell.

I would be endlessly patient.

I was going to be a perfect mom.

That's the true tall order.

Too tall.

Too exhausting.

Inspires a lot of the ugly G word: GUILT.

I've stopped saying never.

A while back, I remember having the distinct thought that instead of trying to be Supermom, I should just try hard to be a Super Mom. To take my role seriously.

To try hard.

To love.

To teach.

To apologize when I make mistakes.

And also to be kind to myself, and not expect Supermom.

I remember this, when they were still so tiny. Never contrary. Always so cute.

Never whining.

Never fighting with each other (oh, the fighting sometimes!).

A time when I felt like the perfect mother, because I wasn't tested. I was oh so in love.

And now we have this.

There's a lot of laughter and a lot of love.

Lots of things I cherish about this stage.

I'm still so in love.

In fact, the bonds that I feel for them frighten me because of their strength, their powerful tugging.

But I'm tested.

Daily.

And this work that I love so much can be exhausting in so many ways.

I think it's about balance: trying harder to consistently be what I want to be for them, but also not expecting Supermom from myself.

Motherhood has been my most lovely dream, and more than perfect ever could mean.

I love it beyond expression.

But it demands a lot.

And I'm trying to give it my best.

And practice forgiveness and trust the Lord with the rest.

If you haven't done it yet, you can enter the free giveaway HERE.

Talking About the Wind at Breakfast

2011-11-04T10:32:00.000-06:00

I wish I could capture the way the light dances around my living room and kitchen on mornings like this.

I got out of bed to leaves strewn all over my backyard and the leaves making merry in the trees, whipping around in the wind. 

 I had promised the kids that today we'd make a good breakfast. 

No school, no real schedule we had to keep. 

Just some errands. 

 The conversation at the table kept coming back to the weather outside.  

Isaiah said, "It's quite the windy outside."

That wind is blowing in a snowstorm tonight and tomorrow.

 
Our to-do list today definitely includes a bikeride.  

We have to enjoy dry sidewalks and wispy leaves while we can. 

 (If you haven't entered for the free giveaway yet, you can do that HERE.)

Hope you have a great weekend.

Making Time

2011-11-03T09:38:00.003-06:00

(a favorite from our family pics, taken just a few weeks ago) 

Last night Mia and I went to Young Women. She said to me as we arrived, "Mom, you always go to Young Women's, and I always want to go with you."

She cuddled into me.

Sat on my lap.

Earlier in the day as she followed me out to the garden to get an onion and beets inside the ground, I thought about how I often pay more attention to her by virtue of her being my baby right now.

I end up feeling guilty because I don't love on my boys as much.

But then there are moments where I remember.

And I realize how much more of a concerted effort I need to make, and what I'm missing out on if I don't.

We got home last night and prayed, read scriptures, read a story.

I tucked my boys into bed and went to get Mia ready for bed.

As I was leaving their room, Isaiah said something to me that he frequently says at bedtime,

"Mom, if you have some time, do you think you could come snuggle?"

The "if you have some time" kills me.

I got little Miss ready for bed, teeth brushed, tucked her in.

And then I went back into the boys' room and climbed up into his bunk.

Usually when I'm there we talk about certain things.

Last night, we lay there in the quiet, my body snuggled up next to his, my arm across his chest.

I asked him if he wanted me to sing him a song before I left.

He requested "Silent Night," and I was grateful for a simple moment, in a very quiet way,

to sing my conviction of that event to him in the dark.

I found myself wondering how many more years til that sweet boy of mine won't ask me to snuggle with him anymore.

I went down and snuggled with his brother on the bottom bunk.

The cutest thing?

He said, "Let me put my arm around you," and put it around my neck and rubbed my arm with his other hand.

He wanted a song about Santa Claus.

5 short years since they were born.

When they became my everything.

When suddenly, the most coveted title of all, Mother, became mine.

I treasure them.

I'm grateful for Isaiah, who asks for my time.

He won't always do this.

I need to remember.

I need to be there.

Even if it's been a hard day.

Maybe especially on those days.

Those days, I am almost always foolish enough to forget.

(Don't forget to go and enter to win the free giveaway HERE. Remember after sharing the link via some social media outlet, you have to come back and comment on that post!! Good luck!)