Love Day Selfies

The festive table,

balloons, table scatter,

and yummy food was good and all, 

but when I remember Love Day this year, 

it's gonna be all about 

these family selfies tonight.

Every time I look at Isaiah in this next one, he looks like #grannytown.

And it cracks me right up.

(The same time that Benj is playing thug life. They kill me.)

#stilllaughing

And in this last one, everyone's pretending they're in a romantic kiss.

Benj even has the arms going. 

Oh boy.

This throwback of Mia from Valentine's dinner 5 years ago goes right along with this theme, so I thought I'd share it again. (It's one of my faves.)

I think Audrey Hepburn had it right when she said this:

"The best thing to hold onto 

in life is each other."

#always

#happyvalentinesday

11

They turned 11, and the day was much like the Monday afternoon of the day they were born.

I remember laying there, pushing those boys out of my body, and noticing the bright blue sky outside and the sunshine.

It was a beautiful day.

Funny what you remember. 

We had friends show up at 7:45 this morning with donuts, a sweet and lovely surprise for the boys.

I was already cooking sausage and planning to make scrambled eggs, but it turned out they ate donuts and sausage instead.
(Healthy.)

When we dropped them off at school, Claire and I ran errands and then came home to do party prep:

making chocolate cake (scratch chocolate cake with scratch peanut butter frosting and crumbled peanut butter cups)

and filling favor bags.

Then it was time to make the relay lists for the party. I split the boys into two teams and explained what they had to do: an act of service, 50 jumping jacks, a round of pictionary, a round of tricks on the trampoline, an egg/spoon relay down the backyard, 2 times around the block, and a scavenger hunt for 4 things. The winning team got full-size candy bars.

They nailed it, it was entertaining, and it kept things from getting too crazy. (You've got to harness the energy of all those tween boys!)

After the party was over, a lazy couple of glorious hours ensued. My sister and I talked on the deck. After she left, I sent friends home and made tacos and we took some pictures and then sat down to eat.

And then we gathered round for a new tradition: drawing words for the birthday peeps from the "oracle" box one of my sisters gave to me on my birthday this year, and writing wishes for the birthday peeps for the coming year. 

I choked up with one of Claire's simple messages:

Dear Isaiah, On your birthday I want to tell you that I love you always. Love, Claire

Mia wished that Benji would get a lego set that would end up being one of his all-time favorites and that Isaiah would make a meaningful friend.

Isaiah capitalized on a family joke when he wished Benji a bowl of salad.

And me? I offered a wish about Benj not letting fear hold him back, and I choked up when I read it out loud. (Isn't that one of those life lessons that most of us have to learn again and again?) And for Isaiah? That he'd make a delectable cake and get some new cologne, among other things.

And tonight, after the sound effects of a "fart in a can" gift Benji got had died down (You should have seen the laughter and fart imitations going down among all those boys while we were eating cake and ice cream and opening presents on the back lawn. I couldn't help it. I could. not. restrain. my laughter.), they read in their beds and then made me laugh with a rendition of "Do Your Ears Hang Low" that references the male anatomy as taught to them by a friend. 
(Insert: "Do your balls hang low?")

Oh. my. word.

And due to party prep, I didn't get to work today. The result? I worked late and looked up from my screen periodically at the three of them that fell asleep in my room. 

And you know what?

Tonight I’m feeling very aware of something as I look at each of them; their lengthening bodies, their peaceful faces, the noise of the day now quiet and still. 

It's that gentle, beautiful ache that reminds me they’ll be gone before I know it.

They have been--and are--the greatest privilege of my life.

Summer Night Wonder

You take perfect when you can get it,

and I caught it and held on tight tonight.

We went for a walk at dusk.

The western sky was gorgeous: pink and golden and dappled, and there was a breeze.

My oldest son has been loving on me lately, and tonight he grabbed my hand when we started to walk and he didn't let go.

I looked at Claire's cute outfit and watched her cute little bum as she walked in typical determined fashion in front of us.

Mia wore the shirt she made recently and sparkly shoes.

The boys were barefoot.

We were sharing some of our favorite memories, and we ran through a whole stretch of sprinklers a few blocks from our house.

(See the sprinkles of water on my shirt and Claire's?)

And then.

We walked a half mile to the river and the boys were commenting on how much lower the water is compared to in the spring. 

All of us walked over to see, and Isaiah and I saw it at the same time.

A beaver!

We've lived 5 blocks from the river for almost 8 years, and I honestly couldn't tell you how many times we've walked this exact stretch of road. 

But we've never seen a beaver before!

We watched him paddle around in the water and Claire, upon seeing him, exclaimed, 

"Oh my gosh, he's gigantic!" 

He settled in on the opposite bank with a stick. And even over the water we could hear him chewing it as we watched him, facing us, holding it in his hands, nibbling away. 

We stood there for a long time 

in complete wonder, admiring.

(Curses! that I couldn't get a good shot of him.)

And then, we walked home, resolving to drop in at his house tomorrow for another look. 

Claire requested we hit the sprinklers another time and we did.

The sky was stunning, and my son grabbed my hand again and held it all the way home.

Summer, I am loving you.

Morning Work

Yesterday morning I went outside and unwound the hose in the front to water the hydrangea, geraniums, the hanging basket and pots by the door, my daisies (remember You've Got Mail: "Don't you think daisies are the friendliest flower?"), and our bed of happy petunias. 

Then to the backyard, watering pots of geraniums, a hanging basket with purple flowers, and the herb planter with basil, rosemary, and lemon thyme. 

I went to put the sprinkler in the garden, and pretty soon all four kids were out there with me. We were talking about this and that as we pulled some weeds.

  

There were bell peppers, 

baby jalapeños (we talked about making salsa!),

spaghetti squash, 

happy onions, 

zucchini (we picked a big one!), 

rhubarb,

cucumbers (this is one that was picked last week), 

tomatoes (turn red!), 

beans and beets and carrots,

corn as tall as me, 

and bees in the squash flowers. 

Those minutes made my whole morning.

I love time with my people,

and this green space is going to give us lots of yummy food. 

The Whole Gamut

A few weeks ago the kids and I were sitting out on the deck around noon.

Isaiah asked me a really. good. question. 
It had to do with eternal purpose and growth---a deep thinking question. His query was something I've never thought about, 
and I didn't have an answer. 
I still find myself thinking about it.
We ended up in a discussion about difficulty, opposition, and growth. We were also talking about the possibility of upcoming changes and voicing how we are feeling about them. 
We were all on the fence, a mixture of emotions. 
Definitely some sadness, a little bit of anxiety, 
and a lot bit of uncertainty.

I began a sentence by saying, "We just have to accept..."--- and was going to continue by saying something about how living means experiencing the ups and the downs. But then Mia interjected one word and said it all.

So, replay.

I said,

"I guess we just have to accept..."

And she said, 

"Life?"

Yeah.

Her response was so simple and profound, 
and I've thought about it ever since.

That IS life, right?

It's the paradox of constant change, and it's full of things happy and sad, beautiful and hard, part sorrow and grief and part joy.

It's the whole gamut, the complete experience.

The scope of that---its depth and meaning, 
its sharp pain and fierce joy---takes my breath away.

On Name Calling and Expletives

On Saturday night, the kids got home and we read a lot from 

To Kill A Mockingbird. 

(We were in the heat of the trial and it was getting intense.)

When I stopped reading, we were all clustered at the bottom of the stairs talking.

And I don't know what I was doing, but at one point, Isaiah said,

"Mom, are you hearing this? Did you hear what Claire just said?!"

I looked at him quizzically. No, I hadn't heard.

"She just called Benji a butthole."

Special.

From my cute, sweet, hilarious 4-year-old.

A few minutes later, she was laying back in my arms on my lap as we were all still sitting there and I looked down and said quietly,

"Claire, don't say butthole."

And she said, 

"Okay."

It's a term she's no doubt heard from her brothers---so I told them, again, that I don't want them using that word.

(I've always hated that word.)

I told them it was gross and beneath them.

But since we're talking about telling kids not to say stuff, let's talk about that one time last week when I was telling my boys not to swear. I was standing there in the kitchen, and as the words were coming out of my mouth, I realized what a joke it was because I've become quite fond of saying hell. Awesome.

(#motherhoodforthewin)

Strawberry Dress Girl

Yesterday morning I woke up and saw that on the same day, four years ago -- February 20, 2013 -- I had posted a couple of pics on Facebook.

They took me back to a memory I love.

I was headed to the grocery store with my two girls: one, a two-month-old little bug in a rug that wasn't content unless she was in my arms, and a four-year-old companion who was intent on bringing her baby along to the grocery store, too.

(Because, #twinners.)

First of all: Mia is adorable.

Second: I love her outfit. 

I totally hearted her in this dress, and this is still one of my very favorite pictures of her from that time.

Once I got up and running yesterday, I headed out to run some errands with that girl of mine that was the baby 4 years ago.

Not anymore. 

We went to pick up 40 lbs. of fresh chicken to package, and then to get a treat and drop it off to a friend for his birthday. 

We listened to Jack Johnson and John Meyer as we drove, and having just looked at those photos, I found myself thinking about how it was just like me and Mia. But it was her sister this time, almost the exact same age as that little strawberry-dress girl of 4 years ago.

Kind of a bit tender, but in a happy way.

I've been so lucky to have them.

And?

My days of small-errand-companions are almost over, 

and I can hardly believe it. 

Old Journal Entry

I stumbled upon this little gem from my journal tonight, an excerpt from the 29th of October, 2012 --- and it made me happy.

"A couple weeks back, I was awakened at like 3:54 AM to, 'Mom?' from Isaiah.  He was totally calm, standing by my side of the bed.  I said, 'Yeah?'  

He said, 

'What is Japanese?'

I was so amused by his question and curious, too.

I told him that it's someone who lives in Japan.  I got out of bed to go to the bathroom and I went to tuck him in bed on the way and he said, walking to his bed, 

'That little word just came into my head.'  

I went to the bathroom and then went back in and said, 'It actually means someone who is born in Japan.  I was born in America, so I'm an American.  Someone born in Japan is Japanese.  And Japan is in Asia.  You know where that is on the map, right?' 

(We've been studying continents in school.)  

(I didn't go into the fact that people can apply for citizenship in countries where they weren't born.)  

He said, 'Yes.'  

I went back to bed, totally amused.  It was so cute for me to imagine him lying in his bed, thinking about that word, and deciding that 3:54 in the morning was just as good a time as any to come find out."

Little snippets like this remind me of the intricate personalities of each of my children and what I love about them.

The things that are SO THEM.

And, it also leaves me wishing that I wrote every single 

funny, 

insightful, 

profound interaction I've had with them, 

because each one is a treasure.

TBT

I looked back in Picasa tonight at photos from a year ago today.

These.

I remember exactly what was going on.

It was after dinner.

Music was on.

I was chasing her round and round the front room.

She was running and laughing.

You know, as a parent, you could talk about a lot of things.

It's exhausting, and there's always more to do than can be done.

It can be so totally emotionally draining.

You lose sleep.

Sometimes you don't know what to do. 

No one prepared you for the ways it would stretch you,

the way it would bring out the best and the worst you have to offer.

But, you know what?  

I look at these photos of my smallest daughter tonight, and my heart kind of weeps.

Weeps, because the time is going.

But weeps because there has been SO MUCH JOY.

They are joy.

They are my best teachers.

I can't think of a single thing I wish I would have done instead, or a single place I would rather be.

I can't think of one other thing I'd rather do.

What an incredible ride.