Pinecone Hearts

This morning was...

Braiding one daughter's hair into a crown braid

Throwing the other daughter's hair up in a top-knot bun

Making muffins because Claire wanted some

Watering the garden

Switching the laundry

Pulling out chicken for the crock pot

Running kids to play with cousins

Grabbing a few things at Costco

And now I'm finally plugging in to work for the afternoon.

Will stop at some point and throw chicken in the crockpot and wrap potatoes to throw in the oven. 

Gonna make gravy later, shred the chicken, make salad.

(Doing the home thing is my very favorite. It really is. I mourn the time when I was able to just be a mom full-time without having to work, too.

These simple tasks of tending, reading, talking, feeding, cleaning, and caring for my people are my very favorite things to do.

That being said, I feel so fortunate to work from home with a good job. 

And to work for good folks.

So lucky, and so grateful.)

On Sunday evening, we went to a couple of cemeteries, 

taking red geraniums to a few of our people.

We stopped at dad's grave first, and then at Huldah's, 

an ancestor of ours that crossed the plains.

As we made our way back across the cemetery, Isaiah wanted to make a pinecone heart like we'd seen by someone else's grave. 

So, as the sun's rays were stretching across the valley, we gathered pinecones and went back to dad's grave.

We arranged the pinecones into place there, and then gathered another bagful to take with us to my grandparents' grave at another cemetery up on the east side of Provo.

Isaiah arranged pinecones while Benji was shooting a gun (his hand). 

We sat in the grass at their grave and I told them about Vera's laugh and the way she shushes with her mouth at the end of it, and how I can still hear, right now, my grandfather chewing his tuna sandwich.

Random, right?

But I love these snippets of life we shared.

And as I look at us, it's beautiful and humbling to realize that we are the harvest of what came before -- and we wouldn't be without them.

Today, we hold them in---and love them with---

all of our pinecone hearts.

One Little Evening

Sometimes I like to capture just a little slice of an evening when things went right, when I got into my happy place.

And sometimes I like to do it because, one day, these will no longer be my days.  

I won't be cooking and cleaning for lots of little mouths and the needs won't be so incessant.

There will come a time when my house will be quiet.

And even tho I sometimes scream inside for a break, I wouldn't trade this for anything.

And so, if I offer just a teeny peek, it gives me a snapshot of my life to relish.

Like the other evening.

Wanna come along?

I'll take you there.

It's late on a Monday afternoon.

(Truth be told, I knew what I'd be doing that afternoon the night before when I couldn't fall asleep until 4:00 a.m. and was up a little after 6:30.  When I was lying awake in my bed, I figured out what I was making for dinner.  Yes.  That happened.  I think about food often.  I dream about it, too.  Ha!  Not sure what it says, but there you have it.)

Earlier in the day I had made bread dough and stuck it on the table for the next few hours.

Come 5:00ish this is what my kitchen looked like, late afternoon sunlight spilling in (it's one of my favorite things). 

Kids were off playing.

I made a favorite salad dressing.

Went outside and filled my apron with freshly picked tomatoes and basil leaves.

About this time, my gal came home and I had the pleasure of watching these two on the couch reading together while I kept making food.

I rolled out dough.

Drizzled it with olive oil and fresh crushed garlic.

Spread it all over with bare hands.

Sprinkled liberally with cheese and sliced those fresh garden tomatoes on the top, followed by chopped fresh basil and put it in the oven to bake.

We all gathered for dinner around that table.

There is always constant talking at the table, but this night I tried to have a focused discussion for family night about Sunday vs. Sabbath, and how (and why) this was instituted for our blessing.  I got to tell them why I love Sundays, and why we do what we do on that day.

Afterward, we gathered at the piano to sing the Little Miss' favorite hymn, a Christmas one, which we sing every week.  I think the kids get tired of it, but I love it.  It makes me warm just watching her sing her heart out to "Gloria in excelsis deo."

The boys and I ended up singing, several times, a round of "For Health and Strength," and it was the first time we successfully pulled off a round together where they were able to carry their own part. That was another little moment for me.

And in the middle of all of this, one of them spied this guy on the window screen outside.

So...that led to praying mantis admiring in the backyard as the sun was getting lower in the sky.

It felt like a quiet end-of-summer blessing.

Thinking about it now I want to hold it for just a second: my four kids, barefoot, fascination on their faces, everyone gathered round, night coming on.

We came back in and started a movie in my room. 

I nursed my baby and then she stopped and wanted to watch, too.  

That was repeated, but eventually on one of the subsequent tries, she finally crashed.

I put her in bed and went upstairs to scoop ice cream for the older kids.

And while they finished the movie, I cleaned up my messy kitchen, grateful for those small, few hours where things seemed to align and I felt gratitude and peace and purpose.

I need those moments of reminder and renewal, pretty much on the daily.

There's a quote I have on my fridge. 

I can still remember where I saw it.  I had gone in to drop off some documents at an office building.  I think? this is where I found it.

Anyway, these words were on the wall and I had to write them down, and then they came to rest on my fridge.

"It's hard work, but there's happiness in it."

It's meaningful work.

Purposeful work.

Yes.

That pretty much sums up what I feel about it. 

Early Planting

Every once in a while there is a perfect day.

One where you enjoy nearly every minute, when you feel aware of good things happening, when the ones you love are with you.  When you've worked hard together, played together, talked together, eaten together.

Yesterday was just such a day.

In the morning we did school in the sunshine:

Read our scripture chapter, worked on journaling, played a game of Memory together, worked with Little Miss on her alphabet, phonics workbooks, simple addition and subtraction with Easter candy, reading (covering -uck, -ick, -eck, -ack, -ock, sight words, and then each reading a whole book on their own to me).

Afterward: out into the sunshine.

It was over 70 degrees and delightful.

Every year as I put the early seeds in, I feel a bit anxious.  It almost feels like I'm scattering seeds and just hoping they are going to come up. 

It always feel precarious to me.

(Beets going into the ground)

I wait, anxiously, to see green coming through the ground in a week or so, evidence that something turned out right.

Yesterday I busied myself planting onions as they joyfully romped around the yard, excited by my turning on the sprinkler.

Soon I was hauling out swimsuits and watching them as they ran, the boys with purpose, and the Little Miss more cautiously.  I laid onions out in a row, listening to them giggle and be proud of how high the water was when they went through.

Popsicles and potatoes.

I had little assistants for the potato planting.

They wanted to stick pieces of the potatoes into the ground.

Afterward, we marked each of the potato mounds and I told Isaiah he could get the watering can. He happily went to work.

 (Our popsicle stick markers)

We pulled a large beetle out of the soil for the start of our insect collection: Black with metallic purple on the edges of his body.

 (Peas, beets, salad and green smoothie material)

I had brought out shovels and a hoe for the planting process; they brought out the garden rake, too.

They dug in the dirt, burying each other's legs, generally getting filthy.

The tractors were pulled out.

We went into the front yard and my bleeding hearts took my breath away.

Delicate and beautiful and thriving (that last part makes me happy).

We pruned back the hydrangea.

Cleaned up.

At the end of day we ate together and then read together on the couch.

Little Miss fell asleep, curled up there on the end.

When I went to put her in bed, tho, she woke up -- and ended up keeping me company well into the evening -- long after she should have been asleep.

She followed me as I cleaned and made banana chocolate-chip muffins, talking my ears off, sampling batter, telling me words that rhyme.

It was one of those days that leaves you feeling satisfied, having worked and played and loved and lived and thrived in the most essential and personal and important relationships:

simple pleasures, family, life-sustaining work, and God.

Last evening as I was cleaning up my house at the end of day and testing out the sprinklers -- hearing them tick-tick-tick in the front yard and watching evening light spill eastward, bathing my yard and the mountains in that beautiful golden color -- I came back in the back gate and looked in the cup, watching the beetle attempt a way out.

I'm pretty excited for the fresh vegetables to come.

And I love that my children are learning this process.

Learning to work in the dirt, tend the land, witness the fruit that comes from labor.

 *I so love that his shirt is off (his request) and his little buns are almost hanging out.*

Mud feels good in the fingertips; the earth smells good.

It's as if my spirit knows this is worthwhile and beautiful.

And when my back aches when it's over, I know it was time well spent.

12th of March

It is so beautiful out today.

We worked around the table this morning -- the boys on spelling and writing and reading; Mia on A, B, C and D -- but mostly cutting up paper into lots of pieces.

We're learning the suffixes -ang, -ung, -ing, and -ong.

Almost there.  Practiced blending them together today into sung, song, ring, rang, etc.

They are down for a rest now and I've been straightening up.

Windows are cracked open throughout the house, and the french doors are open and fresh air and sunshine are streaming in.  I washed up the table from lunch, swept up all of Mimi's cut pieces, put things back in place.

It's a typical day around here.  Going to fold a ginormous! pile of laundry right now.

Put dinner in the crock pot -- chicken we'll shred later for yummy salads.

I want to go for a run and let the sunshine kiss my face, invigorate my limbs.

Oh March...how I am loving you!

Last night we had dinner: pasta tossed with sauteed vegetables and fresh feta with roasted asparagus.  After cleaning up we gathered round to read Summer of the Monkeys.  It was so cute.  Mia was out in about 5 minutes after we began reading, sound asleep in her daddy's lap.

The rest of us ended up reading 42 pages together and finishing the book.  Benji cried and said he wanted to read it again, that it was his favorite -- and that he's been thinking about the Jimbo monkey for weeks and weeks. 

We talked about how, very soon, the boys will be able to read their own books after we read at night.  I told them about being a young girl, having a story with my mom, and then tucking into my own bed with my lamp and a good book and reading away.

We talked about what we'll read next -- and other books we want to read in general.

Huck Finn

Tom Sawyer

The Hobbit

The Lord of the Rings Trilogy

The Harry Potter series

The Little House on the Prairie series

The Secret Garden

Moccasin Trail

Goodnight, Mr. Tom

The Littles

And on and on...

What were your childhood favorites?  Please add to our list!

I love all the adventures waiting for them between future pages.

But right now?  This sunshine is glorious.

I found these pictures of the backyard from June last year.

See my cluster of little people over there in the corner?

They're digging.  Isaiah is in king getup, Benji is at home in the dirt, and Mia's in dress-up form too.  

This is a happy sight for me.

And the garden.  When it was an infant, just a month or so after planting.

Summer, summer, here we come!

It's a good life.

Haircut

 This is what we did last Saturday.

 She likes it.

I think she looks cute.

 Success.

Last Night's Reflecting (9 June 2011)

Today, with my children, was lovely.

My favorite thing that was said today was from Benji: I love the smell of warm.

Me too. June is beginning to feel so good.

We were with friends earlier in the day. I went running and got soaked in the rain. The temperature was perfect and my only concern was my white tank, which made me run a bit faster so I didn’t become transparent.

When we came home I picked up (like usual), the kids ate popsicles (also typical). I went out to check on the garden and we found baby cherry tomatoes on three plants. Then I sat down on the deck in one of the chairs with the kids. We were listening to the wind and how it sounds rushing through trees full of leaves and watching birds eating out of the feeder. It was content and quiet. One of those perfect moments, one of those I will miss forever. I feel ever conscious of the clock…sometimes, when I’m exasperated, grateful for it. Other times, heartbroken and frantic to cling on somehow, praying that beautiful and incredible will continue in new, surprising ways. But knowing, always knowing, these will be my favorite years. This crazy, chaotic, always-busy-time will have drained so much from me that all that is anything from me will be in it and I will miss it fiercely. I will miss my little people.

I made them fried eggs and toast with butter and honey for dinner. We had watermelon for dessert. I made bread dough and let that start rising on the counter while we read the stories they picked out for bedtime. We brushed teeth (which has got to be THE activity in the bedtime routine that I honestly dread the most!), said prayer, read some scripture. I tucked the boys in bed and went to Mimi’s room. Tucked her in and sang a song together.

With bread rising, I went out and started the watering of the front lawn for the evening. Then, with that going, went downstairs to start folding laundry and put in a documentary on Thomas Jefferson to watch. I was given so much great food for thought, including one thought from him that our religion will be read from our lives and not our words.

During one of the breaks where I went to switch the water, I found myself marveling at our relatively tiny plot of ground that we call home. The way all the houses on our street are right next to each other, in sharp juxtaposition to years ago when many people owned acres and acres, and that was the norm. I thought about a life simpler than the one we live in---not more simple in the workload or intellectual life or easier---but simple in what was valued and taught and respected. I came away asking how the great minds we’ve revered for centuries became what they were, the same way I’ve wondered why we haven’t had another Bach.

And here’s where I rant, but I have to wonder, in many ways, how much of it stems from yesteryear’ lack of entertainment media and today’s norm for many people of constantly being in the hooked up, plugged in, tuned in, watching, texting, electronic frenzy that is our life. It makes me grateful for the relative quiet that is our home, without many of these things by choice. Not because they are bad, but because I feel that by and large, they rob my family of time truly being together in the present, and of time they could be outside exercising muscles or engaging in books that stretch their minds or talking with a neighbor that is actually in the flesh instead of through some electronic medium. There is definite tension for me – for example, I heart texting. Email is amazing. And don’t even get me started on how in love I am with Google. But I am quick to want to disconnect on so many levels too and try to live in the real world and not the virtual one. Careful what I am letting influence my mind. Careful to not be governed too much from the outside and from what everyone else is doing. I try to live my life personally. We eat and sleep and laugh and read and walk and talk with friends. I also, amid those lovely things, have frequent bouts of frustration from kids who aren’t listening and yell sometimes (yikes!) and get bogged down by the sheer workload too.

But I love it deep down into my bones.

There is nothing else I’d rather do.

I am right where I want to be, spending each minute the way I would honestly choose to spend it – and with the people I most want to be with.

With all these thoughts swirling, I ended up feeling gratitude for this small, sacred space I call home…for things like our mismatched chairs around a humble antique table that I love. For all the things in our house, inside and out, that are unfinished and need tending. It means, as they say in Return to Me, I (we) are blessed with work.

But, mostly and especially, for the little people, asleep now in their beds, because of the experience of a lifetime they are giving me.

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.

Working on Applesauce

Today I was sitting out in the sunshine on the grass in the backyard while all the kids were napping, loving the feel of it between my toes. I had a cardboard box with apples and a plastic bag for all the skins. As I was peeling away, I got a text from Scott:

"How are you doing?"

I kept going at the apples. After peeling, quartering and coring a nice tall pot full of apples to cook down for applesauce, I texted him back:

"I have been doing apples like a madwoman."

And then I started to think about what that word almost looks like in your mind -- the energy, the craziness, the got-to-get-this-done busyness amid the love. And I was reminded of this story in February 2008's issue of Martha Stewart Living. I only wished I could have been stripped down and sweating too, like her grandma making the pierogi. Seriously, when I read this for the first time, I immediately shared it outloud with my dad who was close by, and had tears through my laughter. Sweet, I tell you. Sweet. I hope you can read it and crack up too.