20 Times

When Claire and I got home from dropping off the kids at school this morning, we were still in our pajamas. We wrapped ourselves in blankets on the couch to read for a while. Claire picked up the first book she wanted to read and said that she love-love-love-love-love-love-loves it. (She said “love” so many times.) 

And then, I guess to summarize, she said:

“I love it 20 times.”

Which brings me to this: October is back again. 

There are leaves on the streets and the smell of autumn is here: crisp and changing, brown and earthy.

The tops of the tomatoes are dead with frost and it’s time to pull everything out. 

The mornings and evenings are crisp, sometimes downright cold. 

I’m looking forward to making a batch of apple butter on the stove, filling my house with the scent of cinnamon and cloves. 

I bought spring bulbs to put in the ground so we can enjoy a bunch of beautiful happiness in six months when tulips carpet my small flower bed in front.

We’ve started burning fires, and there’s a sparkly spider and little witch hat on the mantle to show some October spirit. 

That’s all fine and good, and I love it all. 

But when I’m outside these days, I can’t stop staring. You’d think I have never seen golden trees before. But they are my absolute favorite. 

And every time and every day, I am—figuratively, and often literally—stopped in my tracks. Over and over...and over.

It was cool on Saturday when I woke up, and a bit breezy outside. I put my shoes on and went running. I saw sunlight filtering through a tree close to my house that never can decide, every year, if her leaves should be yellow or red. So she is both, and beautiful. And when the morning sun catches her, she is something to behold. 

Seeing her lit my heart right up. 

Life! Joy! Light!

And I know that this autumn will be over in just a minute.

But here’s the thing:

I love it 20 times.

Peaching

You know what I've noticed outside the last few evenings?

 A breeze.

It tells me fall is on the way.

I always feel like there's some kind of marking that the seasons are changing---whether it's a big late-summer thunderstorm or the way the air starts to feel different.

That's what I'm feeling at night.

And just yesterday I spied the first leaves turning on the mountains above my home.

And I could elaborate extensively on all the reasons I love fall, but I want to talk about peaches and orchard stands.

Cuz really, I wait all year for this time.

And as soon as I knew there was fresh fruit, I went and grabbed a box.

And really, mostly, just for this.

Fresh. Peach. Pie.

Freshfreakinpeachpie.

(#hallelujahandyesplease)

I had literally been thinking about it for months.

And it's pretty much gonna be on the reg for the next while until the peaches are gone.

There's actually one in the oven right now, for a gathering with friends tomorrow night.

And then there's already been some of this going down, too.

And, several batches of peach jam.  If you've never tried that, you're missing out.

Last week while the boys were off at karate one afternoon and my gal was playing with a friend, it was just me and my babe in the kitchen.

She was up to the table and I was busy preparing fruit trying to get a batch of jam finished before I had to leave to pick up the boys.

At one point I turned around and found her like this.

(And I'm just now sitting here trying to figure out what was all over her face.)

Let me just say that, if you have a toddler, 5 p.m. falling-asleep-naps are not your friend.

Why?

Cuz if they pull it off successfully, it means you won't get them to go to sleep for real 'til late that night.

So, what'd I do?

Woke her up, bribed her with ice cream and chocolate sauce, and put her in front of a Mary Poppins clip on the iPad so she'd stay awake.

Ice cream and chocolate at 5:15, and before dinner?

Why, you ask?

Because I'm pretty much cool like that.

(Okay, maybe it was just cuz I was a desperate woman on a mission.)

Late August

It's late August, and that means these.  

I wait for them every year, and they stay cheery for the next few months.

And seriously, when I see them every day, they lift my heart for just a sec.

Things seem right in the world when they're out there---bright, happy, awake.

This afternoon the Little Miss and I went outside and clipped some to put on the table.

I filled the blue vase with water, we stuck blooms in.

As I recall, the conversation went something like she was telling me how she wasn't very good at it (picking the blooms or something).  I don't know...she's always on to something and she's smart as a whip.

I watch her run around these days and communicate with ease and offer up interesting observations.

I see myself in her in some ways---she's headstrong and sure of her opinion.  She isn't shy.  That little woman knows what she wants.  It kind of makes me envy her surety.  And, as I watch her, I can hardly believe that my baby is such a big person at this point in time.

She's a veritable (I love that word) walking, talking, laughing, funny, loud, almost-three-year-old.

It still surprises me.

In any case, I digress.

Late August also means back to school, which we began last week.

I got balloons and a bottle of sparkling bubbly and tic tacs for their plates.  

I made food.

We sat around the table and talked about something that has been on my mind, something I wanted to focus on with my children this year.

It's funny...contemplating school for the year can at once be exhilarating and exhausting.

I feel both, almost daily.

And yeah, that's a confession.  But it's true.

However, any time we can make it an occasion and have bubbly and balloons and feel a bit festive is fun for all of us, I think.

I love this time of year.

Just tonight, I went up to a store that I love twenty minutes from my house.

I always go there when the fall stuff is put out, which is funny because I'm not what you would call a big shopper.  I didn't buy anything---just wanted to peruse: smell the fall candles, admire crackle glass, and I found a dinnerware set that I super loved.

I find myself grateful for simple traditions, for ways that the year becomes measured.  There is a sense of comfort in the little things that add some continuity amid the crazy.

Oh the Weather Outside Was Frosty...

Yesterday it snowed.

Taking the kids to school it was CHILLY, and I was feeling so not ready for this.

I know I've been singing praises for fall, but I'm really not ready for snow on October the 6th.
Give me about 5-6 more weeks and then I'll want it bad.

So while I was not too thrilled, Mia and I case lot shopped during the boys' time at school. After picking them up we put everything away and then I made peach pie.

It was bonafide snowing.
The boys bedecked themselves in snow suits, and asked for Bing Crosby's "Frosty the Snowman" since "it's getting like winter outside, Mom."

We drank hot chocolate and read The Night Before Christmas as part of our 50-minute-reading-storybooks-together-on-the-couch session.We ate hot soup for dinner. I love hot soup on a cold night. And it started to look like this outside afterward. Cold.
And at bedtime, when my dad stopped by and was talking to Mia as he tucked her in, she was discussing putting up the Christmas tree and outside lights, with mention that he needed to be there.

Christmas is on their minds.
They must be my kids.

At the River

This afternoon, the kids biked the river path. I followed them on foot, helping Mia along at times, but mostly just watching them. It was late afternoon and the sun was filtering through the trees. I took pictures of the three of them, but it is already a memory. Maybe I'm a broken record, because sometimes I feel like I often talk about the same things. But the mothering thing feels like a constant give and take. Wanting a freeze frame, and yet somehow exhausted in the perpetual constancy of it all. These pictures will figuratively be those pictures in someone's attic someday. To me, though, it was 4 pm sunshine. Hearing small voices. Watching the joy of new found freedom when you pedal sans training wheels. Taking note of a lower riverbed, with darker soil still there to remind you it was recently higher. The kerplunk kerplunk kerplunk and endless fascination of rocks splashing into the river. Examining large spider webs, with equally large spiders resting there. Being stunned by a snake slithering off the path into the yellow grass.

It feels like fall is peeking around the corner and I'm thrilled. I am by no means ready for cold days, but I oh so love the whole rest of the year starting now. Beautiful fall days and crisp nights. Gorgeous colors in the hills and in my yard. Cider candles. Fires in the fireplace. Conference. Canning. Harvesting. Football games. Holidays.

Love love love love LOVE.

I hope you're excited too.

My 3rd of June Wish

Dear Flag,

Since I hung you out on Monday, will you bring summer too? To me you are symbolic of fireworks and barbeques and lazy summer days with sprinklers, popsicles and sunshine. You remind me of parade bands and how I love this land. I look at you and think of grass under my feet and flower blooms big enough they startle you. You go with the watermelon stuff on my summer mantle and the wish for lots of green.

Can you bring 80 degrees to stay? Can you make it feel like June? Pleeeeeeeease??

I would love it lots.

Bringing Spring Inside

Following the beginning of the week's spring weather, we took a cold turn.

On Thursday, I was around the corner at my friend's house and it started to snow.

It was really, really beautiful.

Stunning, actually.

She let me leave my kids there when I ran to pick up a prescription for Benj's earache. I am always kind of in awe at the world in white after a snowstorm. The way the snow highlights each beautiful branch of a tree. I love trees in the snow. I went inside and pulled out my camera and took a few pictures before loading into the car.

Then, driving home, I stopped in the middle of the road because the sky was so lovely that words don't do it justice.

The weather is like that around here in spring time. One day it might be snowing, and three days later it can be 50+ degrees.

It kept on snowing Thursday night. And Friday morning it just snowed and snowed.

But I shook my fist at the snow and made nests and wrapped twinkle lights around vases and through purple tricot and situated blossom stems and put spring on my mantle anyway.

I know it's on the way.

Blooming

It is that lovely time of year in Utah when you hear the leaves underneath your feet when you're out for a walk. And you can't help but notice all the variety and color of each kind of leaf. And even though every time we are out and about I find them beautiful, I can't get over how staggering they are the next day and the next. As if I haven't seen them. And an incredible witness to creation and its variety and magnificence.

This fall world is fast blossoming to settle down into winter. This morning from the window, as I was cleaning the pan from fried eggs for the boys, I watched the peach trees shine in the morning sun, water dripping from their now naked branches. I was sad to see the yellow leaves gone. And out driving today, I noticed other trees, just recently full of glorious color, now stark against the sky.

Even while my surroundings are hinting another season, I am blooming.

I am blooming.

My little sister is blooming.

My family is blooming.

I am 33+ weeks pregnant, and my little family is blooming. My husband and I are within days of welcoming our little girl into the world and still are without a name for her. I have decided to give birth naturally, wanting to feel more in tune with my body, wanting to experience this moment-of-all-moments that women throughout the ages have gone through in bringing life into the world. I want to feel connected to them, too.

While excited about her coming, I also feel a bit of apprehension because of all the change it will entail: wondering how my boys will take it and if they will resent me (something I'm not sure I could handle right now), and not excited about the lack of sleep that inevitably comes with a new baby.

But at the same time, I had another ultrasound almost three weeks ago. My ultrasound tech surprised me by putting the ultrasound into 3D for a few minutes. I got a more defined glimpse of my baby's face. We saw that she has hair. I saw a little 3D shot of her hands and feet, her long fingers. It's amazing what kind of bonding you can feel from just a little glimpse into this little person that you can feel moving all the time, a little spirit almost ready to emerge. She is blooming.

On Saturday night we had a shower at the house for my little sister, due with a baby boy at the end of the month. She is three weeks ahead of me. Her little one is about to grace the world, and although she has already been engaged in motherhood these past months, this journey is just about to begin. I can't think of a better train to get on. The great thing about it is that, even as you leave one stage of mothering, there is always another ahead. My husband told me when we were dating that, to him, I was a flower in constant full bloom. That is how motherhood is, too. Leaving one season opens to another.

You never stop blooming.

Three of my sisters were here on Saturday as we were preparing for the shower. I love having sisters. They came and helped, making everything easy as we each took different tasks. Scott was wonderful in helping with yard prep and taking care of the boys pre-shower, and with lots of help afterward to return the house to normal. My mother ordered pizza for everyone so we wouldn't have to cook with the house all clean. Everyone went outside in the backyard to eat. After I got my plate, I headed outside as well. As I opened the door and looked down the steps, I couldn't help but notice this family of mine. My mother was close to the bottom of the steps, surrounded by grandchildren.

There we were: mother and mothers, children and grandchildren, spouses, husbands, wives, sisters, women, men, independent families and collective family.

To see this bunch of people that I love, and to think that my sisters and I with our spouses are procreating the next generation in my family, is a truly remarkable thing. These little people are our people. They belong to us.

But I have to agree with something that CJane said in this post , which I loved, a while back about mothers and sons (and I would have to argue mothers and their children in general). Her hunch was that little boys have to love some woman in their life. Their mothers become their first love before they meet their wives. But, she said, the reverse is also true. As a mother, you fall completely in love with your children and lose your heart to them.

I could so relate to that, because I have been lost on my boys since they were born. It feels like my heart has multiplied.

But that isn't to say that the moments are indefinitely easy. I have had some rough days the past couple of weeks that leave me questioning my abilities, my patience, and feeling like a lousy mother. I am convinced that every mother has these moments, though. And it is the good and the bad moments that equally bind them to me.

I feel their engravings deeper and deeper on my heart.

Comin' Round the Bend

All right, folks.

I've been thinking today, and I can't contain it any longer.

The ants is SO in the pants.

The bug is on.

The night before last, when I woke up the customary two+ times to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, I was actually chilly. We have been leaving a window cracked to allow the swamp cooler's air to move downstairs.

But I could feel the cool night air -- from outside. And I was thrilled. Both times I crawled back into bed and spooned with Scott to get warm. It did make for some great snuggling.

Let me share my joy:

*The peaches are on at the orchard stands.

And that means that from now on there will be a constant stream of stuff at the orchard stands until Christmas.

*We are eating fresh, fresh, fresh from the garden. Last night we had a dinner of baked beets, sauteed onions, zucchini and yellow squash with tomatoes, steamed kohl rabi and fresh green beans steamed with bacon -- all from the garden. All that with some yummy bread from a local bakery with some butter. And we watched the Olympics and saw Michael Phelps win yet another two gold medals.

Seriously. It was pretty great.

*As the boys and I walk to the track three times a week to run, campus is buzzing with construction projects anxious for completion, teams are practicing, and I can just feel that expectancy that Fall is in the air.

(Maybe it's just me, though -- it is not at all uncommon for me to get excited about something far in advance. In fact, this happens every year.)

But I don't care.

I can hardly wait.

For some reason, season change does something to me where I get all excited about stuff to get done.

What's on my current thinking list, you ask? (Actually, you didn't ask, but I'm continuing anyway. You're still reading right? Nosy, nosy, you.) :)

*What kind of fall wreath am I going to make this year? (This was last year's. -- If I do it again, I think I'll wait until I can get some more brilliant red leaves, as opposed to the more pink ones from last year's gathering.)

*I've set a goal to have my quilt finished. I am hoping all the patchwork portion will be done by Saturday. This Saturday. I'd love to have it being machine quilted in less than a month. And, as a sidenote, what colors am I going to use for the backing and the 1-foot-side-panels that will border the patchwork?

*Lets hurry up and get a bounty of tomatoes! so we can start putting up quarts! I am ready to peel apples! and make applesauce! and apple butter! with dad. Lets buy peaches by the bushel! and start putting them in jars and cold packing, catching a glimpse of that lovely golden juice as the light hits the bottles.

*What will the boys be for Halloween?

*I have been eyeing one of my favorite sweaters in my closet. I want the temps to drop a bit so I can start wearing sweaters. Oh yes, and I want to burn candles on a regular basis and plug in some yummy Wallflowers with fall scents from Bath & Body Works.

*Lots and lots of long walks in the leaves. And just today, as we were at the duck pond, I was imagining our raking of leaves this year and the boys getting to play in them. I think they will like that this year.

Sure liking that these August temps are just starting to show signs of dropping.

Ask anyone who knows me well, and they'll tell you that I'm right on schedule for how I usually am:

My mind is already in October, anticipating the next season, holidays, yummy smells, delicious sounds, and gorgeous views.

Counting Blessings

I've been gone for awhile, and not for any particular reason.

I guess the blogging fire just hasn't been under my bum -- for lack of a better way to say it-- and I'm not really sure why. And because of that I am feeling surprisingly rusty at this.

Tonight, about 5:18, I pulled out of the driveway to head to my voice lesson. For some reason, the 4:00 hour is the longest of the day for me. We'd been outside, the boys had played with the sprinkler until I turned it off. They were soaked, fighting over who got to hold the hose, and then bawling because they weren't getting their way and I had turned it off. They are the best of friends, but they really screech at each other plenty when they are unhappy about something.

Because this is a long hour, I thought we'd go in the backyard and I'd let them play and try to read a bit of my book. I actually got some reading in, but not without having to be a frequent mediator.

I was thrilled when Scott got home and I got to leave. :)

But I hadn't gone a mile in the car before I found myself reflecting on the blessing of being able to be home with them. I wouldn't trade my place to be anywhere else. And I say that not because I feel any expectation to feel that way, or because I feel like it's my lot, but out of sheer love for these children I've been blessed with. I do, earnestly, love being a mother.

Nonetheless, as frustrating and emotionally/physically exhausting as it can be at times, I couldn't keep from saying outloud, "I get to watch my little kids grow up."

As I said it, my voice cracked.

I was thinking about this morning, taking one of these guys back to the ER after a stitches trip last week to have the stitches taken out. That is part of the beauty of it to me. It is the day-to-day things that I get to be there for. I got to hold him and comfort him and be there when he was nervous.

(But, I also get to be the one that constantly cleans up after him, keeps him clean, deals with his tantrums, and on and on.)

I am one of those mothers that doesn't really like to leave her kids all that much. I actually love to be with them, notwithstanding the fact that it can be a challenge, too.

And I couldn't help but think about the fact that whether it's for a bedtime story, cleaning off the umpteenth tray after a meal, a trip to the ER, bathtime craziness, all out giggling and joking, and the wonder of discovery, I am always there. This brings me such joy.

And because I know this season of my life is so limited in its scope, I cherish it.

I was thinking about this again as I was leaving my lesson and driving home. I was having one of those moments. I want to figure out exactly how these happen so that maybe I could have that frame of mind every day.

A moment as if you were looking through a gold glass, and the world shimmers back at you. Things that normally seem nothing but ordinary become extraordinary.

This started today because my father called me this morning to tell me about a singular conversation he had with some friends, and it left me feeling grateful, humbled and touched for something I take for granted each day.

Sometimes, when you live in a warm bath, you forget to appreciate the pleasant temperature and getting to soak, and the comfort and peace that are yours. I felt reminded of that today in a personal way.

And that gratitude inspired me to want to do more, be more, feel more, love more, appreciate more.

I guess that's it: an exercise in gratitude makes these moments happen.

One of my favorite talks from a few conferences ago was one that focused on gratitude. The speaker said:

"Gratitude requires awareness and effort, not only to feel it but to express it. Frequently we are oblivious to the Lord's hand. We murmur, complain, resist, criticize; so often we are not grateful. ...Gratitude is a Spirit-filled principle. It opens our minds to a universe permeated with the richness of a living God. Through it, we become spiritually aware of the wonder of the smallest things, which gladden our hearts with their messages of God's love. This grateful awareness heightens our sensitivity to divine direction. When we communicate gratitude, we can be filled with the Spirit and connected to those around us and the Lord. Gratitude inspires happiness and carries divine influence."
---Bonnie D. Parkin (to read the entire talk, click here)

One of the hard realizations I have come to, over and over again, is that I am a much more critical person than I like to admit. It is something I am really trying to work on and change. Not that I think of myself as being a Johnny-raincloud-type-of-person, because I don't, but I could certainly improve and I would, frankly, rather not be critical at all. At all, folks.

I would love to get to a place in my life where I never had criticism to offer because I didn't notice it, or because I chose to look at it in a different way. I would like to live in a world where I could and would do more, be more, love more, feel more, and appreciate more. And I know that what Sis. Parkin talks about here is true because of personal experience. Criticism and complaining seem to block the glorious from sight. I think each of our worlds are, to some extent, exactly what we make of it.

It is simply amazing how much brighter and more lovely everything is when I stop and reflect.

When, to use the old adage, I sit and count my blessings.

There really are so many to count.

Marvelous in My Eyes

Do you know that I only have 126 posts to date? And I believe I came to blogdom in 2004?

Oh, well.

I do deep breathing in between each post as I take in the world around me. I have this thing about not spending too much time on the computer, because when I'm here too much, I am not really "in" my surroundings. And that really bothers me.

I need to LIVE my life, not think about it as I sit here. Maybe some of you have figured out how to do both, but I haven't yet. (I still feel like I am trying to figure out how to really LIVE, let alone handle much of anything else!)

I've been busy with spring, folks. What does it mean to you?

Yesterday was a bit chilly in Utah. I felt a bit quiet all day, and sometimes gray days are a bit hard with these boys because we can't be outside. I think we all get stir-crazy.

After eating dinner, I decided I needed a run. Even though the night before's run was not super enjoyable, I donned my black pants with white stripes down the side that I've had since 2001, my blue striped shirt and my sporty green long-sleeved overshirt. Grabbed my cozy black gloves, my iPod, and a piece of gum.

Walking out the back door, the air was crisp.

I loved every minute last night. I saw pink blossoming in the evening light, sprouting green on trees, all the while backed by the still-covered-with-snow mountains in the background. I felt at one with my body, as if my thoughts and emotions could spill freely out of my head into the air, diffusing and finding peace with the beauty around me.

I thought about my children, the beauty and love and joy they have brought to my life. Beginnings. Endings. Fears and hopes.

The first two songs that came up on my shuffle were both progressive-family songs, and that seemed to perfectly fit my mood. Sometimes I feel like I always write about the same things -- namely, motherhood, wifehood, my family. But these are the day-to-day issues for me. How can I be a better mother? How do I translate my desires to be a better wife into action? What kind of an imprint am I leaving? I am constantly thinking about these things.

It's not that I never think of anything else. I think about all sorts of other things/issues in the books that I read. But the crucial questions for me are always revolving around what I find most important in my life.

The songs marched right into rhythm. One talked about watching a little girl grow up, realizing she was the best thing that had ever happened.

I'm always reveling in that continuous revelation in my relationships.

The boys and I went to the duck pond this week. Deliciously warm with beautiful sunshine. Fresh duck poop that Benj put his hand down into and then got it on his shorts. Biting off pieces of sour cherry jolly rancher for all of us to share. Watching the ducks and birds around the pond, making music with our hands at the base of a light pole. We went up by some amphitheater-style seating benches. The boys have fun climbing up and down the stairs and walking down the aisles. I sat, bathing in sunlight and watching them, feeling a bit wistful, loving each second. We have spent all our time together this week, and yes, we always do, but I haven't tried to do other things at the same time. It has just been us, together. I held Benji's hands as he walked across the top of the benches, and he thought that was really something. I found myself thinking... "And one day they walked."

When did this happen? As quickly, quietly, and invisibly as the day they started smiling. The day they came into this world, and the few days following, when already I could recognize their individual sounds. The way those zygotes grow, imperceptibly to the eye, until, one day, you can see evidence! As fast as they started saying their first word and verbally communicating. These are hardly my babies anymore; I look and look away and look back and they are walking together, giggling together, commenting on their surroundings.

Beginnings. Celebrations. Living. The balloons bobbed on the back porch next door, where I knew there was a family bridal shower going on for Michelle, and each time I made my loop around, I looked in the front window from the sidewalk as I ran by. Looking for people at the food table, people celebrating, laughing together. Loving and celebrating and creating ties afresh. This was also a happy, wistful thought. I felt sincere joy for her, excitement.

I feel like I am always watching. There is so much to celebrate, and everyone is at different crossroads. It is exciting.

Being with children makes me see the world anew. It is beautiful, hopeful, full of wonder.

Being with friends helps me find common ground in day-to-day issues, gives me a sisterhood with other women.

Being with my husband forces me into constant growth and evaluation, building something of this relationship that became so much more than a friendship, and fast, early on.

Being a daughter and granddaughter fills me with gratitude, giving me big shoes. I feel like I step into them the same way my boys' feet fit in mine.

Being a sister gives me my best friends, women who bless my life in ways I can't possibly express.

I am feeling grateful for this circle I call my life, albeit a small one. I'm grateful for this season of spring, where I find, like always, I've got plenty to weed out. There are new flowers, too, and many residual flowers that I love -- blooming, brilliant colors with the familiar comfort of years, but without the fading.

Snow and Ice, Go Away, I want my flowers to bloom today.

Is anybody else wish wish wishing for spring????