I hope it sticks.

Lately, I've thought, okay at least twice, maybe three times, I've thought this:

I can do it.

This thought is foreign and it comes unbidden. And it's wonderful.

A sampling of my thoughts:

"The kitchen and the bathrooms really need to be cleaned. That's okay. I can do it."

"If I get pregnant again, I might have a baby girl. It'll be okay; I can do it."

"If we stay in Lubbock next year, Brandon will be looking for a job again."

Before I finish this thought, I need to interject. This is our second year looking for a job. He has a job, it's just not permanent, tenure-track, and solidly stable and therefore, we are not settled. I have repeatedly and irreverently expressed to God that we just can't do this anymore. But, maybe instead of letting me have my way right this second, Heavenly Father has given me something else. Because,

"If Brandon is looking for a job again, I'll need to smile through it and make a home anyway and anywhere. And I can do it."

I'm still praying though, but asking, not demanding.

P.S. My children's cheeks KILL me. Tonight, I kissed and kissed and kissed my baby's face before letting him doze off.  He's so precious to me.

P.S.S. A glass lid shattered in the dishwasher and so now the dishwasher doesn't drain completely. Today I realized that it's really stupid to continue using a dishwasher that's not draining completely, so I did all the dishes by hand. It took a long time. But it smelled good. And I scoured the kitchen sink first, which made me feel successful.

I washed all the dishes except for the oatmeal pot.  It's soaking. I didn't dry the dishes and they are leaning hodgepodge against one another across two countertops.

And I only cleaned one bathroom. But, Luke worked alongside me. Which is so great! And I'm an amazing mother for not bribing him and for trusting him with ajax and windex. It was rather fun to kneel side by side and scrub the tub.

And the point is, I thought I could do it. And I couldn't, not exactly. The oatmeal pot is still dirty. The dishes are not put away. The upstairs bathroom is still filthy. But, really, what does it matter when one baby was kissed and kissed and the other was read to and scrubbed a sink all by himself?

I'd love to hear about how you were...enough. But, I'll understand if you don't follow suit and blog all about it. I hope you'll at least go and be successful quietly and then think, "Oh my! I did pretty well today. I wasn't perfect and it doesn't even matter!"

"I'm a workhorse, Baby."

That's what he told me while shovelling sod when everyone else was taking a break (including myself.) We were dating, maybe engaged. I don't remember. But I do remember sitting on the grass looking up at him framed by the blue sky with the Bountiful Temple in the background.

And it's true: That boy's never gonna let us starve.

My husband. He helped Luke clean his room. He let Luke help him do the dishes. He cleaned all the countertops and even the stove. (That right there is cause for a big, slobbery french kiss.) (Ew, gross, Carrie!) (Sorry, too much information.) Then he cleared away the dumping place (the "high countertop." It's higher than the other countertops.) He put the slipcover back on the junked-loveseat. He straightened the family room. He cleaned our room. He fixed the broken chair. He fixed the broken bed. He took the boys outside to play. He set the table. He cleaned up the baby. He gathered us together for family prayer. He put the baby to bed. He did dinner dishes. He would have vacuumed, but I had 6 piles of laundry on the floor, equalling 9+ loads of laundry.

I did laundry. I ran a couple of errands. I didn't finish either job completely. He's going to the grocery store for me tonight and I'm still working on the laundry.

He just came in to see what I was up to. He said, "I was going to take the garbage out before I go."

Thirsty

image: flickr, by manyfires

When you go looking for trouble, you will find it. (I found it.) A photo shouldn't make you cry. (typed with tears streaming down my face.) The above picture is of somewhere in the Redwoods.

All the places I love are too far away to renew me.

The photo below made me think about standing in front of my parents' home on clear nights and looking up at the star-filled sky. In the winter with the snow-silenced air between me and the universe, I can always find Orion.

This photo also made me think about the bridge over the Elizabeth River at Yorktown Virginia. The air is not snow-silenced, but warm and muggy. And waves calmly lap the beach. We've seen dolphins out there, a stingray, and one night we watched a crab swimming beside the boat dock. It's a great place. Below, I've written a snapshot of my memory.

image courtesy of flickr, by manyfires

Tidewater Virginia.

Under the bridge in Yorktown, right across the street from where Nick's used to be. If I'm very still, I can feel the warm, damp air and the feeling that we'll be on the Colonial Parkway soon, whipping past dark, dense woods on our way home. I peer out the passenger window.   

photo: flickr

Nick's Seafood Restaurant. Oooooh, man. Nick's had greek statues and silvery-blue ceilings.
Lobster, anyone?

Another snapshot of a different place I love, the one I've been really, really missing lately:

Oregon Coast.
Ecola State Park. The road through the moss drenched rain forest twists and turns. Up in the tall branches, an owl: silent, still, majestic. On a coastal trail, and the path through the woods is spongey with moss and the mulch of a thousand years' making. Ferns line the path. Old, giant trees protect from the elements. Thick December fog obscures the view of the seemingly-sheer dropoff to the Pacific and the migrating whales.

When you reach the end of that road through Ecola State Park, this is what you'll see.

image: flickr, by Major Clangor

Lately, I've been feeling parched and brittle and vulnerable. To the Universe: Whisk me away to someplace green!

Do you ever yearn for somewhere else, and if so, where?

P.S. I've begun the Book of Mormon again and I'm positive I should be listening to those verses about not murmuring and complaining. The verse that really struck me: 1 Nephi 18:16

P.S.S. This post was written in parts. The crying was only momentary. It's now Monday, a new week.

P.S.S. I will write about what's going on with us someday and even include anecdotes about my darling children.