Must Be Late Summer

It must be late summer and almost fall.

We are eating from the garden.

(Picture peek-a-boo p.s.: If you haven't read The Penderwicks, it's a must. So, so good. We just read it together and absolutely _loved_ it.)

The black-eyed-Susans are blooming in the backyard.

Monsoon-like weather is coming to a close with its deep indigo clouds that roll in just about every afternoon.

I went to the first football game last Saturday, and made a peach pie with fresh peaches from the orchard the night before.

School has started again, with big changes in our house. (#hardbutgood)

And...the canning has begun.

Jamming and canning, to be precise.

Two weeks ago found the girls and I in the kitchen one night.

I was washing fresh raspberries and dumping them into a container where the girls were crushing them.

Mia was busy mixing the pectin mix with the berries, filling jars, and labeling them.

Benj came up in the middle of it and exclaimed, 

"I love when there's cooking going on in the kitchen at night!"

(My sentiments exactly, actually. There's something about the quiet of night time, an open back door with fresh air (or not), background tunes or just listening to crickets, and spending time together. It takes me to some fond places in my childhood and many, many conversations in the kitchen, late at night, with my dad. It's kind of strange, really, to be the parent now, and not the child.

What happened? How did it all go so fast?)

Benj pulled out a bowl, filled it with salsa, grabbed some chips, and ate while reading Calvin & Hobbes while the girls and I worked. 

Oh, and photo bombed.

And this week? 

When Claire and I dropped off the kids at school on Monday morning, we came home and watered the pots outside and cleaned up the kitchen.

But afterward, we went out to the garden because I knew we had tons of tomatoes in that happy mess of green.

We didn't even pick the vines clean, and this is what we came away with.

Had to get those done, too.

 So yeah...the kitchen has been a hot, steamy, sticky place this week as we've bottled quarts that we'll pull out for spaghetti sauce and soups during the rest of the year. 

They're getting older, and it's fun to be side by side, doing whatever.

Like last night. 

The kitchen was warm, more quarts of tomatoes were processing, 

made dinner, made cookie dough, 

had friends stop by unexpectedly and we ended up out on the deck as it got windy and started to rain.

It. was. lovely.

We ended up piling them in our car to drive them home, listening to the Indigo Girls. 

And when we got home? Those two girls and I went for a run.

It was raining, thundering, and lightning was occasionally torching the sky.

But we ran, even Claire, with her (comparatively) shorter legs.
She kept right up.

We talked and laughed and ran as it got dark.

The best.

Tomorrow is September 1st. 

I'm going to put fall on my mantle this weekend:

owls, nuts, a little glass pumpkin from Cape Cod that was a gift from my dad, golden yellow and orange ginkgo leaves, coppers and golds and browns, a sparkly black spider and small little witch hat to offer a Halloween tease.

And?

I'm gonna make a wreath for my front door out of dried putka pods, and then I think? I'll hang it with burlap ribbon.

Welcome to my favorite time of year.

(I've already been burning a cider candle, melting apple jack wax squares to fill my kitchen with that apple cinnamon smell, and I can tell the heat is on the brink of retreat.
All good things.)

A Good Woman

The other night I had gotten the kids in bed and really just wanted to crash.

But.

I peeled myself off my bed after getting Claire to sleep, and returned to the kitchen to clean up all the dinner stuff.

Then I got dressed, put my running shoes on, and slipped out into the night to run laps in front of my house.

I listened to this talk that was given in 2013.

Elder Christofferson quoted something that Sister Nadauld said that I have loved for years.

I still remember exactly where I was when she spoke these words for the first time.

I was in the basement at my dad's, together with members of my family.

I was sitting on the couch that was on the west wall.

I remember sizing myself up in comparison to the quote, wanting to be a good woman.

As I listened to this the other night, I found myself grateful for the reminder.

I came home, showered, and wrote it down, and it has taken residence on my fridge for now.

I believe in the power of tenderness, kindness, refinement, faith, goodness, virtue and purity.

For both women and men.

These attributes, when applied, change the world.

A History of Strolling

Yesterday as I headed out to the stroller with my phone, keys, jacket for Benji, water bottle, and three bags of popcorn for their snacking pleasure, I grabbed my camera, too.  

I couldn't help but think about how this has been such a part of me and them.

I wish I had a log of all the many miles I've done using a stroller.

One day, the children will hear how a significant chunk of their baby/toddler years was spent as we walked and ran, getting fresh air, admiring beauty, slowing the day down.

Honestly.  

I can't even begin to guess.

Last night I looked through photos, just to prove it.

And there are many not pictured here, too.

I can see these little people growing up, right in front of my eyes, mile after mile after mile.

Last Saturday and Sunday

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.

Evening Run

On Saturday evening my kids and I went out for a run. It was beautiful.

We live five minutes from large fields and animals, wide sky above us and jagged mountains hugging our little valley.

I love where I live.

We ran to our favorite spot down by the railroad tracks to watch for a train as we ran beside them and to visit the animals in the fields.

We talked about why it was stinky outside. They learned about manure. We talked about how our poop stinks and that animal poop stinks too.

Simple enough.

We stopped and talked to the cows and admired their beauty. Isaiah reminded me to stay out of the dirty water along the road.

As we made our way home, the sun was streaming across the valley from the west.

It was beautiful.

Inside that stroller I had six little feet and six little hands. I could look down and see the tops of their heads, watch them studying the world.

I knew, just then, that I would always remember moments like that. I knew that I will miss those small little hands and their little voices and their questions and wonder in the world.

We walked as a family that same route yesterday evening, and I told Scott about those impressions from the day before and about what I love about being surrounded by children all day, every day. They constantly remind me of these precious things:

There is endless wonder and beauty in the world.

Life is magical.

The train whistles and helicopters, the slow crawling of a big, black beetle in our flowerbeds, the way that dirt feels in your hands, the sounds the animals make, the sounds of sirens, the way the world looks in different light throughout the day and night.

Everything is something to learn about.

How could you ever be bored?

Mantle Love & Love Songs & Such

I added a little love to my mantle on this, the first day of February.




And I'm still pretty undecided if I like it or not.







Part of me thinks it's rather ugly -- but part of me, frankly, had this battle of indecision with the mantle as it was before the valentine love got added. Except for the birds and the penguins 'cause, ya know, I love them.

Today the sun was actually shining outside and it made me feel radiant inside, and I was consciously aware of how much it rejuvenated me. I really wanted to take a nap, but on such a day, decided I couldn't afford to waste such gorgeousness. And so I went running and wanted to just keep bathing in the sunlight. That combined with my very slow morning walk with my toddlers and cute baby girl and cute nephew out in the morning air just made the whole day better.

Until.

The basement drain in the laundry room decided to start sharing its juices.

This has happened before, but not to this extent. I happened (blessing!) to walk into the bathroom at the moment of some ferocious gurgling happening on the floor, setting my foot down into the shmuck. And I screamed. I really did. I was in my normal routine of things and opened the door of the laundry to go stick some dirty socks in there for the next load and didn't bother looking down until the wetness necessitated it.

So basically someone has to come out and snake the drain. Or whatever it is they do. And I am just cringing and praying and hoping and saying my hail marys that this isn't going to be too terribly expensive. It's like I was emailing my sister -- I know she's all too familiar with this, but I am just getting my lovely first doses in that great world of home ownership. Some things you have to do even if you can't afford them. (I can't stress about what is going to come out of the drain every time we flush the toilet.) (The joys of being flat-out, 100%, bone dry broke.)

But even despite the drain woes, my husband came home tonight and we ate a yummy dinner. We talked together. We cracked up over our cute children. We had a spiritual discussion that left me surprised at all their young minds retain. And then Scott asked Isaiah to say the family prayer at the end of our discussion. And after opening his prayer, the whole of it was something like this:

"...and thank you that we have mint chocolate chip ice cream."

And he closed the prayer.

And we went upstairs, dished up ice cream for all of us and ate -- and Scott was sitting down on the little stool by their table, eating with them. I was eating out of the carton itself (a horrible habit because I always eat more than a single portion, I know) and feeding Mia bites from her bowl.

And then we put them to bed.

I sang Wonderful Tonight and Something In the Way She Moves to Mia as I rocked her in the dark.

And thought about how fitting it was, being that it is the first day of what I shall refer to as Love Month -- even though, in the end, sometimes Valentines can end up feeling like someone's idea of just putting something in February and bringing up commercial sales.

You know what I mean.

Saturday

This morning I had a banana milkshake. Frozen bananas blended with whole milk = Deliciousness. And I had some toast with butter and peanut butter on it = 'nother deliciousness. And then I thought I was good.

But then we were snacking on apples and yogurt.

And then I opened a couple of snack-size M&Ms and Mia and I and 'Saiah and Benj and Scott shared them on Scott and I's bed.

I filled up my big nalgene with water and started to fold laundry once the kids were down for naps. Started to browse the computer, and after a while...felt hungry again.

Went upstairs and pulled out the box of See's Nuts & Chews on top of the microwave (such a healthy food choice, right?)...and proceeded to eat like three or four of them. And then I ate some mashed potatoes and gravy from the other night that was yummy and then I ate some ice cream.

Sigh.

Oh well...I was going to be good today and not eat any junk. It's like my friend Kimi says in her blog description about herself...she likes to eat so much that she also likes to run, too. I can relate to that. I love running for running's sake -- and have for several years because I love to be active in general, but it is nice that it has its asthetic points too.

On another note, having lots of little hands makes for lots of work.

This morning I swept and mopped my kitchen floor, which hadn't been mopped since (oh dear) we moved in. I know. That's disgusting. I can promise that it was swept probably at least twice a day so it was clean that way, but can't say much for the mopping -- except for down on my knees with a wet rag.

Anyway.

I swept and mopped the kitchen floor and mopped the front room and entry floor too. Then I windexed my windows in and out in the kitchen and the big front window in the front room to clean off all those constant smudges. And then I took a rag and was wiping down the doorways and back door where you get dirt from small little fingerprints and shoe scuffs and all that stuff. Oh, and I wiped down the fridge and the front of the oven.

And I finished and thought, "Well, it will look clean...

...for a few hours."

And one other thing: I'm a sock loser. Does anyone else have this problem? My question into the void today is this: why is it that every time you do a load of laundry, and you put PAIRS of socks into the wash, there always seems to be at least one lone sock when you are doing the folding? Where do they go?

And this: Why will one of my three-year-old sons pee his pants when he's awake in the daytime, but wake up from dreamland during naps to come upstairs to go pee on the toilet?

I really don't get that one.

Monday

There is a hill I frequently run up right by my house.

Today, as I was approaching it, I named it Hoofer. 'Cause it takes some umph.

We made muffins for breakfast while listening to a radio program about German Christmas carols. I heard birds sing out the window. I looked at the twinkle lights and red birds on my mantle.

Laundry.

Bathing, and my favorite part was watching one of the boys and Mia giggling in amusement with each other while splashing. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

(Bathing in totes since we are currently without a bathtub.)

Lunch of nachos (for the boys) and tunafish (for me).

Feeling grateful that it hasn't been a hard Monday. Sometimes on Monday mornings, I feel grouchy with my boys almost the moment I wake up. And when that happens, I dread the week ahead because it almost always seems to curse the rest of the week and I am pulling my hair out. Like last weekend, basically. And it's really hard.

Like this poem I was just reminded of about 30 minutes ago.

Wrong Monday

First the alarm is mute. Forgot the plunger.
I discover the milk is sour right after
I pour it on cereal. I pad
to the door stepping into what the cat
threw up. I clean the floor and then
my hands smell bad. Washing them
I splash my blouse and have to change.
After driving for an hour I remember
I forgot to pack underwear and the speech
I'm paid to give. The next sign
I see is ROAD CONSTRUCTION
NEXT 144 MILES. At that moment
stalled in traffic, my period starts.

--Marge Piercy



So now, my kids are up. Besides being grateful that I don't have an animal to worry about cleaning up their throw up, I am thinking about how we will spend our afternoon. What we'll do for dinner, what we'll talk about at family home evening, thinking that bedtime is 4.5 hours away.

I've got books waiting to be read, laundry to fold, journaling to write, and now, right now...

mothering to attend to.

What can I say, it's Monday.

Pontificating on Blueberries

All right, these are two (2!) events in only the last 24 hours!!

Last night, with guests at the dinner table no less, my son picks up a blueberry that had fallen under the dining room table. It was from a previous dinner party probably (whoops), and hadn't been noticed. So he picks it up.

"What's this, Mom?"

It's a blueberry.

"No, it's a poop!"

(And yes, this is the same son I was also writing about in the last post that said this same phrase. Also at the dinner table, I might add. Question to self: What? Seriously? What is this?)

I start to tell him that it's a blueberry again (and, I'm thinking, "for crying out loud shhh!") because I'm feeling embarrassed and hoping the company didn't hear it the first time around. (These were guests of my father.)

Didn't work. He repeated it several times over, and louder.

Yep.

Sure did.

And then, at lunch today, just as we were about to say prayer before eating, my dad opens the back door to say that he is heading to get some gas for the lawnmower. That's all he said.

My boys thought the three letter g word from that sentence was hilarious.

I am not exaggerating when I say that the entire lunch conversation for those two little boys consisted of sitting at the counter, looking at each other, and saying, "Gas?" back and forth and bursting into laughter.

Yep.

WOW.

I had to text Scott right then at work and tell him about it.



Switching from the hilarity of bodily functions, Scott is running in the Wasatch Back Relay this weekend. We went up for the team dinner tonight at my aunt and uncle's home. My uncle has been battling cancer for eight years now and things currently don't look too hot. They were Team Ford last year in honor of him, and are continuing that this year. When they pulled out the shirts tonight and I read the front caption, I started to get emotional.

Belonging to something, pulling together, loving individuals and families and honoring each other.

It's a beautiful, beautiful thing.

So chant and hurrah and shoot off fireworks and cheer for them in your thoughts for this weekend, and I'm hoping for this kind of love to circle and hug the world.

It made me feel inspired tonight.

Oh, and by the way, I _LOVE_ this girl.

Oh I love her so much!