jamesrivergirl...and her boys

pottery barn dining room

2012-02-05T20:09:00.001-06:00

Toscana Extending Dining Table.

Please excuse me while I try to Pinterest this.

Metaphorically Speaking

2012-01-03T17:39:00.000-06:00

This is an OLD post that I never posted. You can guess why. But, today I want to post it.

I visited the Pioneer Woman today, where I saw this sign.

I really like it and it reminds me of my hometown. Furthermore, I wish people in my life would follow its counsel. This afternoon little dirty boys tracked mud through the house across the just-barely-swept floor and into the just-cleaned bathroom. The pristine bar of soap is now brown and the counters are smudged. I swept again.

Metaphorically, too, I'd like this gritty bit of wisdom to hold water. But, I think maybe it doesn't. I definitely want admittance even with all my metaphorical sh**. Maybe the true love sign would say, "Come on in, you'll get cleaned up eventually."

I'm not sure if this is my blogging rebirth. But, here's an update: In November, Luke turned 7. He's lost several teeth. Currently he's completely missing the top middle two and one on the bottom. On his 3rd or 4th tooth, he wanted money for his tooth, but he also wanted to keep the tooth. I made him write a letter to the tooth fairy. He wrote: To the Tooth Fairy. Hi I am Luke. "PLEES LEEF MY TOOCH. P.S. I DOTE BELEEF IN YOU."

The week before Christmas I told the boys that I hadn't done any shopping for their Christmas presents. Petey, age 3, said, "Tanta bings my peasants." Luke said, "There's no such thing as Santa." Pete replied, "Ya-huh. I taw him in da pawade."

One of the things Brandon gave me for Christmas was a bouquet of flowers. The card said, "I think 2012 is going to be a great year for us." I cried when I read it. I knew he was talking about his job search.

Happy New Year.

And Pete is finally, finally, finally potty trained.
2012 will be a great year indeed.

verse with blurry photos of boys

2011-03-11T21:57:00.002-06:00

Little boys with hair of gold
Love me even when I'm old.
Love me when my hair is gray
Come and kiss me anyway.
Bring me colas, lemonade to drink
Come and see me week by week.
Bring your children, let them run
And I'll remember when their dads were young.
-Carrie to Luke & Pete

Pete

Luke

Luke, Pete, aluminum foil belts, wrist bands, and hats

Pete

In the photo above, Luke and I are in the background. I'm making dinner and Luke is keeping me company.

Lately Luke likes to sit cross-legged on the counter while listening to various cds to see which ones he likes.

I think I have a problem with authority.

2011-03-09T22:31:00.000-06:00

It's been more than a month since I posted.

A couple of weeks ago, Brandon said, "You haven't posted anything for a while." Then he said, "I think it's time."

Huh?
Brandon might be joined to me at the hip for forever whether he likes it or not, but he only reads this when I tell him to. And I don't know why I tell him to. All I ever get is an understated, "I liked it."
So why does he have an opinion about how often I post, I'd like to know.

Anyway, two more weeks have passed and...nothin'. The muse is on vacation.
She doesn't like being bossed around.

Today I got my Annual First of Spring Sunburn. It hurts when I scratch my forehead and I look a little bit lobster-y. I do this every year. Lovely day. Go to park. Stand in the sun and chat with a friend. Have lunch, push swing, collect sandy sneakers. Go home. A few hours later, roughly brush hair our of my face and damn it. Again.

My husband who never, ever swears said, "I dunno. That's a pretty common word." That's what I call permission. Oh, and now he's talking about Jay Golden Kimball. We compare ourselves to General Authorities in this house and...oh he's still talking, "Our Stake Presidency was talking about sex in the chapel."
Well, not sex in the chapel.

Have I successfully recused myself from any church callings yet?

I'm sitting here with waning courage, and Brandon says, "Go ahead Baby, share it with the world."

Hello, my name is Carrie and

2011-02-02T21:32:00.001-06:00

I really want another baby. And I think God wants me to have another baby. Because (mostly) going without sugar and processed foods hasn't been nearly as hard as it has every other time I've tried...and failed. But, I really want a baby and something inside of me has shifted.

But tonight I'm jonesin.'

And it doesn't help that Luke made a great big sign that read "COOKIES." And then I had to help him creatively spell every cookie we could think of. He came up with Fruit Loop Cookies (bleck.) But I still have chocolate chip cookies, oatmeal cookies, and coconut cookies on my mind. Get thee behind me!!

At least the sign isn't completely readable:
CH CHP
PNT BR
OTML
JAM THUM PRIT
FRUT LOOP

Can you read it?

Unfortunately, I can, and I wanna CH CHP OTML cookie (or ten) RIGHT NOW!
But I won't have one. Because I'm on

DAY 16

and that is nothing short of a miracle.

But I do stare extra long at pictures like this.

Wow, that really is torture.

But I must remember the reason I'm trying to eat real, whole foods and no sugary desserts: I feel that I need to be healthier before getting pregnant again with the hope that the pregnancy and post-pregnancy will be better for it. And really, so my scale doesn't break if I get on it after a new baby is born. Oh yes, and that epiphany I had that I want to be healthy enough -- not so I'll be one of the skinny women in the room -- but so that I'll be able to serve my Maker with full purpose of heart, and not have as many moments when I care that I'm not one of the skinny women in the room. That's right, that's what I'm supposed to remember.

(But if you are embracing and not eschewing Sea Salt Caramel Brownies, then by all means...The above photo with an accompanying recipe was found at CuisineNie.)

a day in the life

2011-01-14T20:48:00.000-06:00

If you're interested, I've posted about what a homeschool day might look like for us over at my homeschool blog, Yellow, Green, Bwue.

Oh, how's that going? Let me tell you, it's a work in progress. I'm posting because I want to show some solidarity with one of my favorite places to visit: Simple Homeschool.

Merry Christmas from the Randolph-Sengs

2010-12-29T09:55:00.000-06:00

Our Christmas Tree

Our gingerbread house.

Below: Pictures taken at Luke's Christmas Piano Recital.

Christmas lights at our house.

Merry Christmas! No cards this year. We didn't get pictures made and I imagined you opening the card and saying, "No picture? Lame." So maybe next year. Until then...

Showing the loot from stockings with Daddy.

Two of the videos we made for family on Christmas morning.

Christmas Spirit...NOT

2010-12-17T16:37:00.001-06:00

In line today at Walmart, I somewhat-yelled at Luke, "NO. We are not getting anything for you today!"

Another exemplary moment:
Luke and Brandon were arguing about something yesterday morning while getting ready to go do one of our Christmas traditions. I went out there and yelled, "I am tired of this! I am tired of dragging your butts to Christmas cheer!"

{Just this week I was telling Luke and Petey not to say butt. Or, in Petey's case, not to say bott.
"Honey, say bum instead."
Petey: "No, bott."}

Anyway, Luke and Brandon actually made up right away and were sweet and cheery while I simmered for a little while longer. (eyes rolling.)

December Poem

2010-12-15T15:58:00.001-06:00

I found a new blog- Chronicles of a Country Girl. I haven't had time to explore it, but she has really beautiful photography. She lives in Maryland (I almost typed Virginia, because that's how I felt looking at the photos.) The above photo of the cardinal was copied from her site. There were others I loved, but this one is good to accompany this poem (which I found at Simplekids.net, a sister site to Simple Homeschool, a site I like.)

I Heard a Bird Sing
by Oliver Herford
I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December
A magical thing
And sweet to remember

‘We are nearer to Spring
Than we were in September,’
I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December.

We are nearer to Spring than we were in September. That can apply to certain seasons of our lives, I think.

I need to learn how to stand in the puke when there is no puke, or what I learned this week from the scriptures.

2010-12-11T01:40:00.000-06:00

Recognizing that my mothering does not always align with my feelings of love for my boys, I asked Heavenly Father to help me to love Luke more like He loves him. Tuesday night as I prayed, I had a nudging thought that to love him more like that, I'd need to serve him and it might be hard, but I knew I really needed this blessing.

Wednesday morning, I read from Matthew, chapter 14 where Jesus learned of the beheading of John the Baptist, and he "departed then by ship into a desert place apart." But the people thronged to him. He couldn't mourn immediately, or privately. Or at least he chose not to. "And Jesus went forth, and saw a great multitude, and was moved with compassion toward them, and he healed their sick." I stopped reading at “compassion,” and I repeated to myself, “Jesus had compassion.”

At breakfast, Luke didn't eat very much and he said his tummy felt bad. By mid-day, he was throwing up. Twice, he made it to the toilet. Once, I wasn't so lucky. He almost made it. Having reached the tiled bathroom floor, he vomited again and again, a substance more like water than puke, clear and orange-y smelling. His small frame, made smaller in his extremity.

He sat in the tub while I cleaned. Quietly he said, “I’m sorry Momma.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it to the toilet.”

“That’s okay, you couldn’t help it.”

I said it kindly, and honestly. I really meant it. I had rolled my jeans up like a pirate, and was standing in puke. And I loved him more than I loved myself.

I cleaned and disinfected. (I washed my feet.) I carried a bundle to the laundry. By six o'clock, Luke had fallen asleep on the bed in our "art room." (Yes, a bed in the art room. Disaster lurks around every corner at our house.)

When his father came home, he gave him a blessing.

The next morning, Thursday, Luke was better. He was chipper and playful and totally fine.

That morning I read the remainder of Matthew 14. Jesus feeds the five thousand, and then sends the multitude away and sends his disciples to get into a ship. And, "...he went up into a mountain apart to pray: and when the evening was come, he was there alone."

I don't know why this moved me so much, but finally Jesus gets to be alone. I guess I felt a little bit of compassion for Jesus.

"But the ship was now in the midst of the sea, tossed with waves: for the wind was contrary."

"And in the fourth watch of the night, Jesus went unto them, walking on the sea."

When I've read this passage before (and what follows), I’ve always been struck by Peter’s impetuous nature, going to the Savior on the water. I've always been struck by the need to keep my eyes on the Savior lest I sink into the water. I've always been struck by the Savior who immediately rescues Peter. But this time, as I read this passage, I noted the footnote of verse 25, which explains that the fourth watch is between three and six in the morning. That is so late. I've needed the Savior to come to me in the literal late hours.

He did not come immediately, but he came. And I think He knew He would come. And so when he asks Peter, “wherefore didst thou doubt?” I think He’s saying: I am the Savior. I am a sure thing, surer than the water that sucks you under, surer than any inky depths. How can you doubt me?

And I think He is saying that to me: I am the Savior, and I am a sure thing, surer than any water, or devil, or trial, or inherited personality trait. I will save you and I will save yours; my promises and our covenants are sure.

I had asked Heavenly Father to help me to love Luke more like He loves Luke. First, I need to serve him, and maybe not in a fluffy, “I made you cookies!” kind of way. I need to serve him when he needs it. And I need to feel his need in a personal, not removed, kind of way --standing in the puke, so to speak.

And I need to love him from a faithful place, not from a place of fear, knowing that Jesus will walk on the water to me or to Luke, and even if it isn't until the fourth watch, it will still be okay.

(By the way, I do not believe that Luke was struck with a stomach bug just so I could have an obvious object lesson.)

In the Spirit of Thanksgiving

2010-12-01T09:01:00.000-06:00

Brandon's bike got stolen--again. Yes, yes, I know he should lock it up or put it in the garage. But he forgot. He probably forgot because when he got home around seven last night, he came in, immediately had dinner with us, did some dishes, then went to work applying for a few new jobs.

He was up this morning at six, and by seven, he was ready to go. It's really dark when he gets up in the morning.

I have been thinking about being thankful even when things don't go the way I hope. For example, Brandon has an interview coming up!!! For a few days, in my mind, he already had the job. And I felt thankful. But, I'm going to try to remember to be thankful even if it doesn't pan out.

I know Heavenly Father has a plan for us. In the past, the plan has consistently not followed what I think should happen. But we have felt the Lord's hand over us and seen Him make a way when there was no way. And I'm going to try to remember that, even while a teensy part of me trembles at the thought that He's only just begun to work on us.

Worth five minutes of your time, even if you've already seen it. (Click twice to see it better.)

Boys and Broomsticks

2010-10-27T16:48:00.000-05:00

Today, I pretended to be a witch and carried the boys on my broom (Literally. And it wasn't easy.) to my gingerbread house where I wanted to fatten them up. "What can I tempt you with, my pretty? Will you eat icecream, chocolate chip cookies, a juicy steak?" It didn't matter what I said, Luke said, "No." He understood that I was trying to make him plump for eating. But each time Luke said, "No" or "Uh-uh," Pete quietly and resolutely said, "Yes."

(I'm feeling my first rush of excitement that Christmas is coming!)

Click on the pictures for sources.

Two love letters

2010-10-22T01:04:00.000-05:00

I do not keep a regular journal. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because I am very embarrassed by my teenage self when every entry, every entry! was about a boy. Not always the same boy, but you get the picture. Oh the angst, then and the angst now, remembering. Then there's the undeniable fact that sometimes I'm crazy. So when I'm crazy and I just have to let the dam bust, I write by hand on random loose-leaf paper. And I write quickly and sometimes I cross out paragraphs with large x's. And the handwriting is not neat. The letters are small and kind of spiky. And the lines scratch my unhappiness or anger across the paper. Then I fold those papers into quarters and stuff them in my dresser drawers. And I feel a lot better. But I don't want them bound into a journal! Hello, posterity, your great great granny sends you her love and...tempests. (yyeck-I don't want to be called Granny.) So, I begin journals when I am well and happy and spiritually on. But I'm only human and I don't always stay that way. And it's just too real.

But I do this instead: I blog, irregularly. And I write love letters and save them on my computer. (Sometimes a tad bit of the crazy seeps in, just in case you're worried that I'll only pass that down in my genes and parenting practices.)
Mostly, they are intensely personal and I feel like a traitor publishing them, so they stay private. But here are two I wrote tonight:

October 22, 2010 (wee hours of the morning.)

Dear Luke and Pete,

Tonight I made 2 fresh raspberry pies. I am very proud of myself. I put them in the freezer and we will bake them later. Raspberries were on sale for 50 cents a half-pint and that is a tremendous deal. Your father and I picked through them and tossed the moldy ones—they went bad quickly! That was frustrating. But, oh well. I told your Dad that if he didn’t help me do that, then he couldn’t have any raspberry pie (like the story of The Little Red Hen) because I did NOT want to do it by myself and he did NOT want to help. I won. He helped. Then he took out the garbage. Bless that man. I gave him packages I thought would be extra moldy so I wouldn’t have to deal with them. My selfish plan didn’t always work though; I got some really gross ones. Anyway, this is supposed to be a note about how I’m going to bake wonderful and delicious raspberry pies. Maybe we should call them Moldy Raspberry Pies because you guys always seem to think that gross-ness is hilarious.

Love, Mommy

Dear Brandon,

Tonight I slipped you the packages of raspberries I didn’t want to pick through. Thank you for helping me. I think you’ll like the pie.

Love you always,

Carrie

Yellow, Green, Bwue: an education

2010-10-09T15:05:00.000-05:00

I'm starting a new blog: http://yellowgreenblue-edu.blogspot.com/

I need a spot to log my homeschooling brainstorms, links, reading lists, and travails.

To all the girls I've loved before

2010-09-08T07:45:00.000-05:00

Dear Friends,
I love this and want to share it with you. Enjoy!
Love, Carrie

An update, a diagnosis, and a poster child

2010-09-06T23:44:00.000-05:00

We've started homeschooling, sort of. We've started in that I'm not sending him to school and we read everyday. We're settling into other things gradually. We joined a co-op, which I think will be good for Luke, but feels like a great sacrifice on my part because there are so many people I don't know, so I feel nervous just thinking about it. I'm only extroverted with people I already know and like, ya know? Or if there's no committment, like at the grocery store.

Then we're starting a homeschool playgroup and piano lessons and some kind of sports activity (karate and/or flag football, swimming later in the fall). On paper, it all sounds wonderful. But putting it into practice might give me hives. I think I might be committment-phobic or co-dependent, probably both.

We ran into a couple from our ward, Bishop and Sis. Cr. at the grocery store. Luke interrupted the conversation to say, "I like science." She asked him, "Have you started school now?" He answered while bobbing his head from shoulder to shoulder, "I homeschool!" At checkout a little while later, he was smacking himself in the head for fun. I whispered in his ear, "Stop hitting yourself in the head." "Why?" "Because it looks like there's something wrong with you."

Yep.

He's still alive.

2010-08-04T14:52:00.000-05:00

And it's a miracle.

Pete surrounded by a least a dozen broken eggs. The mess was all over him, all over the floor, inside the refrigerator, under the refrigerator. I cleaned it up all by myself. It's official; I'm an adult.

And just to seal the deal, later that day:

same kitchen, different boy.

Mud:

2010-08-04T14:42:00.000-05:00

Why every boy needs a backyard and a beningly negligent parent.

In the Rain with Pete

2010-07-02T15:28:00.000-05:00

To be in love Is to touch with a lighter hand. In yourself you stretch, you are well.

-Gwendolyn Brooks

Pete and I had an impromptu walk in the rain today. I was supposed to be putting him down for a nap. Instead, we sloshed our flip-flop clad feet through the rivers of water in our neighborhood streets and gutters.

A man in the passenger side of a pickup truck gave me a thumb's up as he passed.

When we got home, we stood on the front porch and held our hands out to catch the water spilling from the roof. I wish I could transmit my memory of his wet skin, his hair plastered down, his laugh when he bent his head down to suck the shirt on my shoulder for a drink, how it felt to hold him on my hip in perfect health and happiness.

Also Gwendolyn Brooks : Exhaust the little moment. Soon it dies. And be it gash or gold it will not come Again in this identical guise.

Mama, snap out of it!

2010-06-02T22:32:00.000-05:00

I do not handle most stress well. I am a delightful person when it's easy. But when it's hard, and especially when surrounded by those who should be able to trust me the most, I fall to pieces. I make what's hard harder for everybody. I forget that I set the tone of our home and that I am responsible for more than just myself. So, I've been like that a lot lately. And today after being a truly terrible mother, it dawned on me: I'm responsible for this. I can choose to get it together and be happy and not out of control. Even if...certain small boys did what they did.

So after a disastrous morning, we left the house and headed for Idalou to the Apple Orchard. It was like the scales peeled away as we passed cows and hay bales. It was sunny and you could see and see and see.

Pete had a walking stick. Oh, Pete. You are the most adorable, kissable thing in this green and blue world. You walked with your stick, avoiding fire ants and cooing at butterflies until you got tired. And then I carried your sweaty body and you were heavy and needy and it was good. And Luke. Luke, we followed you hither and yon, up and down orchard rows and on the tractor rutted road. You and I discussed the best places to build anthills (if we were ants) and how the King Ant has wings. (You corrected your own self about that one--queen ants...) We ate watermelon and cantaloupe, and apple salad, and corn chips and pinto beans. And while we ate, we watched mud martins swoop in to their nests under the eaves of the covered patio. Mr. Cal remembered you, Luke, from the last time you followed him around came home with the trophies of walking sticks made of apple tree branches. I think he remembered you because you were interested in everything he had to say. You still remembered about how he doesn't kill the ants because he likes horn toads and horn toads need the ants for food.

We brought home local honey and german apple cake. Luke and I ate most of it this afternoon, but saved some for Daddy. We might all be a little sunburnt and mosquito bitten. And I feel a little bit more like myself.

The Land Desolation-I know exactly where that is.

2010-06-01T14:47:00.000-05:00

On our way home from visiting family, we stopped at the rest area on I-70, just before the turn off to get to Moab. This area is desolate. We were in the middle of nowhere. Anyway, through a series of unfortunate events and thanks to Pete's curiosity and handiness, we managed to lock ourselves out of the car. In the middle of nowhere. With no cell phones in our pockets. With no shoes on our child's feet. In the middle of nowhere.

Pete locked us out of the car in the middle of nowhere with the car still running and none of us--not even Petey--was inside.

Earlier, Brandon and I had had this conversation:

Brandon: "Gas here in Lehi is the cheapest I've seen in in Utah."
Carrie: "Stop and get some."
Brandon: "No, I always stop in Moab."
Carrie: "You should stop and get some."
Brandon: "No, I've worked it all out. I always stop at the same places on our trip."
Carrie: "What if something bad happens?"
Brandon: "Nothing's going to happen."
Carrie: "You don't know that. A semi could overturn and we could be waiting for hours. It happened to the Kimballs." (It didn't exactly happen to the Kimballs--their catastrophe was a blizzard.)
Brandon: "We're not going to run out of gas."
Carrie, voice rising: "You don't know everything!"
Brandon: "We're not going to run out of gas. Trust me."
Carrie, voice rising more with a tinge of hysteria: "Why can't you just stop and get gas for me?!"
Brandon: "Oh! You want me to get gas? I'd be happy to."

Back to the middle of nowhere:
A couple from Germany was stopping at the same rest area. They let us use their cell phone. I called 911. "911, where's your emergency?" "Um, normally I wouldn't consider this an emergency, but we're in the middle of nowhere..."

Eighty-five dollars for the locksmith, and 3 hours later, we stopped to fill up at our usual stop.

The above line could also be read like this: I'm such a blessing to him and I didn't hesitate to tell him so.

P.S. That couple from Germany also invited us to stay in their RV for the 2 hours spent waiting for help to arrive. They gave us cokes and cookies. And in thick accents said, "It is no trouble." They lied. I'm glad they lied.

I have something to say.

2010-04-28T16:45:00.000-05:00

And I've decided to say it.

I belong to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

On Sunday a friend of mine bore her testimony of the Savior, that He is God's son, that we are God's children, that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God and that President Thomas S. Monson is the Lord's prophet on the earth today, and that the Book of Mormon is true scripture. As I sat in the congregation and listened, I felt the heavens were open.

And I bear my own testimony--born of a witness from the Holy Ghost and my own faith and obedience, that Jesus is the Christ.

My Style

2010-04-22T20:27:00.000-05:00

My friend (and roommate), Katri, posted this link on her blog. She wrote:

It's a quiz at Sproost.com that defines your decorating style. I like it because it uses pictures instead of descriptions to help you decide what you like.

I say, "Ditto."

I loved it! My results: 33% Cottage Chic, 33 % Classic, and 34% Nantucket.

So, basically, undecided. That's appropriate.

Upon looking at all the photos in each category, I realized I'm in love (in love!) with Cottage Chic and Nantucket.

And you?

Above Cottage Chic Below, Nantucket.

A disjointed post

2010-04-02T02:39:00.000-05:00

Today we went to the library. We were there to return books, to avoid accruing more late fines on Julia's Mastering the Art of French Cooking, to check out Book #3 in the Magic Treehouse series, and to get a few books for preschool. Well. I had forgotten all about the library's Easter Extravaganza even though Kaylyn sent out an announcement.

(Kaylyn heads up playgroup now. I feel blissfully happy about that.)

When we were depositing our library books, someone mentioned it to us in passing, "Are you guys going to the Easter thing? They'll have bouncers and stuff." Luke said, "Can we go?!" I couldn't say no, but I wanted to. I don't know why I'm like that. I like the mundane day to day stuff, not the crazy, this is SO fun stuff. But, I'm glad I didn't say no.

At first, Pete was afraid to try out the big blow-up slide. Right before they closed up shop, he did it though, and he loved it. The first time, I had to go in after him and help over the second hurdle (it had two different slides, one after the other.)but, then he figured it out and didn't need any help. He had the hugest grin on his face and his hair was all wild. He would still be sliding if he could.

Luke had so much fun too. After receiving plastic eggs with chocolates inside, he played, "Which egg-shell is the chocolate egg under?" with me. We just sat on the carpet and played. I love that he thought of that. I love that I wanted me to play. I love...well, you know.

So because of all the candy to be had, and bouncers to jump in and slide down, and friends to play with,

We were at the library from 10:45-ish until 2-ish.

As always, they cheered when we left.

But, I'm glad we went because Pete spent lots of time experimenting with the drinking fountain. It was very enriching for him. He learned:

Yes, it really does arc water everytime you push the button! And, you can squirt water in lots of directions! (I didn't want the library to get sued, so I mopped up the mess.)

And, I did check out a few books for preschool. Twenty-two, to be exact. (Oh, dear.)

And, has anyone seen a stuffed frog? And, thank you to those friends who: helped me track down my stroller, find my toddler, and watched my boys while I checked out all those books. I'm a mess. But I'm a hot mess. Hey, that reminds me, the bumps on my face are pretty much cleared up. (Sonja, it's not cancer.)

Here are pictures to show how I'm feeling about the arrival of Spring.

I love baby animals! I love blossoms!

image courtesy of flickr, by thatsanotherdory

Happy, happy, happy, happy Spring. It's another most wonderful time of the year.

And, more importantly:

General Conference

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints

(The Easter button above is from Shabby Blogs.)

I guess that's it.

I hope it sticks.

2010-03-21T02:00:00.000-05:00

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."

2010-03-13T23:06:00.000-06:00

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

2010-03-01T12:50:00.000-06:00

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.

My Heavenly Father Loves Me

2010-02-06T22:55:00.000-06:00

Our primary children will be singing this song in Sacrament Meeting on February 28th. It will be a secret gift from me to our ward, but they don't know that. Our Bishop said it was his favorite, and it is one of mine. Here is a link to my very favorite, Jesus Is My Shepherd. (sheet music)

And a Happy New Year!

2010-01-02T15:51:00.000-06:00

We had a New Year's Eve party. We invited some friends, had a potluck, played games. Luke had the best time playing with the other children. Sometime after 10, we put the children to bed upstairs. They actually went to sleep! We forgot to get out the sparklers before the kiddos went to bed, so our family lit them on the night of New Year's Day. FYI: Brandon's favorite holiday is the Fourth of July. But his second-favorite is New Year's Eve.

Merry Christmas!

2010-01-02T15:21:00.000-06:00

Luke and his preschool buddies singing "Jingle Bells" at their Christmas Program.

Our Christmas Tree. Our first year with a star on top because I finally found one I like.

Christmas Eve, after the boys were in bed, after all the wrapping and stacking. I love this moment just before Brandon and the boys unwrap their gifts. And I care only a little if you judge me for rampant consumerism. (Thank you family for the bounty!)

In the wee hours of Christmas morning, Luke came downstairs. We surveyed the presents and full stockings together and then Luke went back to sleep. Here he is sleeping under the Christmas tree.

Later, Luke was still sleeping soundly under the tree when Pete woke up. Petey was giving Luke loves in this picture to wake him up. For Brandon and I, it was a magical moment.

I don't have a picture of my favorite part of our Christmas morning.
The night before, we had been out and both boys fell asleep in the car. So, in the morning, we all climbed into our bed and read the Christmas Nativity story from the New Testament.
Then we opened our Thankful Box and read our lists we had been keeping through the month.
I think we're going to postpone the Christmas story from now on.
It was lovely to read it to fresh-cheeked little boys.

Pajama-striped Petey and his stocking on Christmas morning:

Brandon and I made wooden blocks for the boys. Here is Luke with a creation.

Our front door. Back at the beginning of December, I wanted Brandon to put the lights up and he did.

At one o'clock in the morning.

I hope our neighbors didn't mind the hammering! (Or, wouldn't you love to live next door to us?!)

Our Thankful Box.

Merry Christmas.

The Sweet Life

2009-12-10T20:04:00.001-06:00

So, I'm eating less sugary junk food. Again. Yes, I already fell off the wagon and I started two days ago. But I'm taking a big yoga breath, and being gentle with myself. Therefore I write, "less," not "none."

In conjunction with my sweet-consciousness, I'm writing at least one post about the sweetness of my life.

Tonight, I walked out of my bedroom and into the family room to find Luke watching "This Old House" and Brandon on his hands and knees with Pete slung over his shoulder. They were wrestling.

Tonight before bedtime I held Pete in the doorway of Luke's bedroom. He switched the light off, he switched the light on. Off. And on. Over and over again with a very contented smile on his face, which was upturned towards the light, and then dark...

Luke answered the phone today and said, "No." And then eventually hung up. I asked him who it was and he said, "Somefin' about the Texas Tech police, maybe?"

We are writing lists of things we're thankful for and then storing them in our "Thankful Box" to be read Christmas morning before presents. (I encourage you to STEAL THIS IDEA. I found it in the Ensign or Friend.) Anyway, Luke is thankful for many things, but last night he was thankful for all of his "aminals...especially my puppy and Baby Bear."

I am thankful for the women who have gone before me and made sacrifices that I sincerely hope never to make. But I hope my sacrifices will still be meaningful to myself and my God.

I am thankful for my Grandma Petersen and the time we had together in May. She knew me for 40 minutes to an hour on our last visit together in this earth life. I'm thankful for the freedom, and time, and peace and quiet of her home and for the radio she put in my room and the BubbleYum she left on my pillow.

Libraries.
Bookstores.
But mostly, libraries.

Progress: When I "fell off the wagon," I did not eat a whole piece of carrot cake (yes, my favorite kind, a first-place slot sometimes tied with chocolate). Brandon brought it home just for me, but I shared it with him and Luke and I even left one bite for Pete. And he never would have known if I hadn't...

I can't help myself.

2009-12-03T04:27:00.000-06:00

In You've Got Mail, when Meg Ryan asks Greg Kinnear about his new-found love, "Isn't she a Republican?" He says, "Iiii can't help myself." (Iiii did that on purpose.)

And, speaking of Greg Kinnear, have you seen the movie Ghost Town? HAH! (I always second-guess myself when I share stuff like this, because what if you don't laugh as hard as I did? I wish I could just automatically assume that there's something wrong with your sense of humor and not mine, ya know? But in an effort to improve a healthy sense of self-acceptance, I saw Little Miss Sunshine on TV in the wee hours of the morning, also with Greg Kinnear, and I laughed until I was crying and then wheezing.) So anyway, Ricky Gervaise and Greg Kinnear are greaT! in this flick:

Okay, so anyway, Iiii can't help myself. I LOVE these Blue Diamond Lime 'n Chili almonds. If I never eat chips or crunchy cheetos again, I will survive. But these, well these are like oxygen. Expensive oxygen. I think I could even forgo cake if I had a never-ending supply of these in my fork-holding hand. I will never be the same again. And I know it's just not right. Forgo cake?! That's unnatural. Thankfully, I can have my cake and eat these too.

Just to show how fully-female my brain is:

2 songs this post brought to my recollection:

Cake, Short Skirt, Long Jacket

K's Choice, I'm Not an Addict

1 more

10,000 Fireflies -Hey, who sings this? (where he says something about being an insomniac. Do you know what time it is? Let's just say it's morning and my boys have been asleep for a loooong time.)

Hey! There's another one! (see label)

Fall with the Randolph-Seng's

2009-11-04T21:38:00.000-06:00

Fall began one wintry day--no truly, it was COLD. We trekked out to Idalou and went to the apple orchard for some hot BBQ and cool german apple cake. We ate lunch, went on a hayride, picked out our pumpkins, and watched green chiles being roasted. I bought raw honey and I really think it's made a difference to my sinuses. Here are the boys sitting across from me on the trailer bed/hayride. It was fun and freezing.

It's soup-time. I've made several different soups, but I only took a picture the night we had pizza. (sigh) But it's goooooood pizza! Roasted red & yellow bell peppers, onions, mushrooms, and grape tomatoes. Mostly whole wheat crust. Lots-a-cheese.

Chilly days are great for staying inside and building forts. Here's Pete crawling through one. Look at his hair.

And Look at HIS hair! Luke's striking a tough pose with his rad mohawk.

But then it kinda fell over.

Still tough. Don't mess with us.

I look like a cross between Bono and the mafia. That's what no shower and no sleep will do to ya.

But I did really like this one.

2009-09-17T22:00:00.000-05:00

Seedfolks by Paul Fleischman

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This book is so short but so FULL.

View all my reviews >>

The Harshest Review I've Ever Written

2009-09-17T21:49:00.000-05:00

http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13747.Julie_and_Julia_365_Days_524_Recipes_1_Tiny_Apartment_Kitchen">Julie and Julia: 365 Days, 524 Recipes, 1 Tiny Apartment Kitchen by http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8546.Julie_Powell">Julie Powell

My rating: http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/71616689">1 of 5 stars

If this book had actually been about 365 days and 524 recipes, I would have liked this book. If it had actually been about themes connecting the lives of Julia Child and Julie Powell, I would have loved this book.

As it was, the only parts I really wanted to read were the very few and far between snatches of Julia Child. However, the author's views on other people (shared through the lens of her cynicism, her blame, and her hypocrisy) make me distrustful of her lens focused on Julia and Paul Child.

Everything else is littered with unfunny self-absorption, self-pity (not to be confused with self-deprecating humor--there isn't any) and characters who are not interesting and certainly not noteworthy.

On the positive side, I now want to read Julia's own words, thanks to Cody and what I've heard of the movie (that just HAS to be better than this book.)

The softie in me thinks that my critique is too harsh because:
1. She lost me in the beginning when she doesn't call for help when she sees a woman wack her own head on concrete. I don't care if you're in New York, you DO SOMETHING.
2. She's so scattered. For example, sometimes she attempts french recipes without really reading them--which is fine, but don't write a book with a pragmatic title: it's false-advertising.
3. She alienated me with her very poor handling of truly important moments. The making of omelettes-not important. Your attitude toward comforting families who lost loved ones September 11th-important.
4. She aligns her own "journey" with that of Julia Child and it felt false and forced. But I could have forgiven her that had I not wanted to stop spending time with her altogether.

http://www.goodreads.com/review/list/1347027-carrie">View all my reviews >>

Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn

2009-09-04T11:09:00.000-05:00

Luke didn't finish his dinner the other night. He ate everything except his salad. I didn't make him finish it because he said he was full. But then he wanted a treat. Our conversation went like this:

C: I think you're too full for a treat.

L: No, I'm not.

C: If you're too full for lettuce, you're too full for a treat.

L: But only the lettuce parts of my stomach are full.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Yesterday I asked Luke to watch Pete and KEEP HIM SAFE while I took a quick shower. I put the baby gate up and got ready for the day. When I came out, both boys were at the kitchen table, heads bent over in concentration. On the table, there was a full cup of milk, with straw, and a 2-Liter bottle of raspberry soda.

Luke stood up with a sharp knife in his hand, and said, "I'm sorry I got this knife out."

Turns out, he had also retrieved a sharp pair of scissors. He wanted to mix the milk and raspberry drink together to see what it would taste like. He wasn't strong enough to unscrew the top, so he had gathered tools to do the job.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Pete still wacks people on the head and pulls hair and bites and yells and he also screams and pounds on the door of the dressing room when I won't let him out to go walk around Target by himself (making another baby in the dressing room cry.)

As we walked through Target yesterday, Pete was yelling (not crying, just yelling) and everytime Luke would get close enough, Pete would try to pull his hair. Luke was a pretty good sport. He just copied me and kept telling Petey, "You're dangerous."

The other thing we say to Pete is, "Stop hittin' your money-maker!" Because he hits himself in the head to be funny.

Oh yeah, he also has a fake cry that we love. He cries and half-smiles and then looks out of the side of his eyes to see if I'm watching and if it's working. It's not, but it's entertaining.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

This is Luke at swim lessons this summer. He didn't want to jump off the diving board. I knelt down beside him and gave him a stirring peptalk. "I believe in you!" ("@%^&! I was eloquent!" Name that movie for a date with me.)

Anyway, I was eloquent and he was unmoved.

Then I said, "I'll buy you an ice cream cone if you jump off that diving board." He didn't even hesitate or have to think it over.

Me & Luke at the Silent Wings Museum.

Huck Finn--I mean--Pete. After black beans.

I am in love.

Her favorite singer was John Denver.

2009-08-31T14:49:00.000-05:00

Last weekend, my family gathered for the funeral of my grandma.

She was the perfect grandmother. And we didn't make it easy on her, living 2000 miles away. She sent big boxes of wrapped gifts to stack under the Christmas tree. She packed tins of homemade cookies, candy, and green and pink popcorn balls and sent those cross-country as well. She sent homemade Christmas ornaments: small felt snowmen and Christmas trees, candy canes, and stockings, with our little photographed heads sticking out of the tops. She wrote letters.

When we visited for two heavenly, easy-going weeks each summer, she left packages of grape Bubble-Yum on our pillows and we watched her knuckles as she peeled onions for spaghetti sauce. In the wee hours of the morning, she brewed coffee. I still stop in the supermarket aisle and press my finger tips into the left-behind coffee grinds so I can enjoy that smell.

She poured cups of orange juice "to wake up with" and she held us in her lap outside in the cool, shadowed morning. She planted marigolds and impatiens and ivy climbed the mailbox post at every house she ever owned. She snuck cookies into our beds and told us night-time stories of little ones with shiny new cars and their adventures. "And they rode and they rode and they rode and they rode." My cousins heard the same stories. She loved us all. We each thought we were her favorite. I still think it. And so does Patrick, I'm sure.

And about Patrick. My cousin. I haven't seen him for about 7 years. That delightful guy chauffeured me around Williamsburg this past weekend. He never complained once about the baby in the backseat wailing, or the return trip to the motel to retrieve something I already had, or the fact that carseat installment became his duty. He works for the National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency. Yes, that is COOL. And Pete really liked him. One night my brother, Patrick, and I walked through Colonial Williamsburg together, and I was dumbfounded by how similar we all were.

I'm really glad that I could go. Thank you, Brandon, for sending me. All three of my brothers were there. And my cousin Emily. It meant a lot me to see her. I didn't grow up around my Petersen/Ellis cousins, so this weekend was really special for us to spend some time together.

Emily and Pete.

I miss Brandon.

2009-08-11T02:25:00.000-05:00

He's not here to tell me to come to bed. He's not in bed putting up with the lamp shining like the noon-day sun while I read to "unwind." He's not lying on his side with his back to me so I can't wrap my arm (yep, just the one--the other's always under my pillow so that I don't resent him for being the comfortable one) as I was saying...arm around him and then, in his sleep, he's not there to take my hand like he does. every night. except tonight. Because he's not here and I miss him. Very much.

Again, with the modesty.

2009-07-29T14:59:00.000-05:00

I just read the most beautiful post I have read in a long, long time. In Beach Baby, Melissa M. describes a sequence of beach-memories beginning with her childhood. As a seven year old, she gathers shells, encounters stranded stingrays, and walks down the beach hand-in-hand with her grandfather. As a teenager, she gets sunburnt while reading Jane Austen and mooning over a boy. Then she's a honey-mooning newlywed, a young mother, and finally a mother with growing and almost-grown children.

Exquisite. A gut-wrenchingly beautiful read for me as I fight an almost constant yen for Someplace Else and a wish that escaping to a beach was a lot closer than a days drive. And it was an interesting look at life's progression and time marching on. (Just this morning I was musing that in one week, Brandon and I will have been married for seven years and how that's equivalent to high school and college. But these seven years have passed by a lot more quickly than high school or college did alone.)

Then.

One of the commenters asked about her honeymoon bikini: Why did she think she should wear one? Just because she was now married, she didn't need to be modest anymore?

REALLY??

Good feelings gone. (Dori, Finding Nemo)

Winning the Germ Jackpot, Winning a Coveted Parenting Award, and An Update on Our Lives

2009-07-26T16:57:00.000-05:00

I. Do not read if you are nauseous or have a strong gag reflex.

My little Pete (15 months) loves splashing in the toilet. And he was really having a moment last night. It does not matter that there were poopy streaks left behind by his older brother; he still splash-splash-splashed the water all over the floor, all over himself and when I caught him, he was SUCKING ON HIS FINGERS!

It always completes the experience for him when I catch him and wail, "Noooo! Peeetey, that's disgusting!" He laughs his little head off.

So I pick him up to wash his hands. I'm balancing a wet, wriggling, laughing 15 month old on my knee in front of the sink. I take the soap bottle and the pump top comes out of the bottle and the bottle (full) flies out of my hand and falls to the floor. I yell for my husband who makes his way upstairs as the thick liquid soap starts oozing out onto the floor. Glug, glug.

I'm pretty sure Luke stepped in it. And even though Brandon tried to clean it up, he didn't think about the residue that we've both sinced slipped on. I hope the baby doesn't die of a staff infection or some other feces-related illness. I really am trying to keep bathroom doors closed and my home more clean.

II. And if you are not sure that I'm a qualifying contender for the bad mom awards this summer, let me tell you this. Yesterday we took the kids swimming. Family hours were from noon 'til 3:30. We lathered on sunscreen. But completely forgot to reapply. Luke, thankfully, was in a life jacket. But all the rest of us: Brandon, myself, and the baby have bright lobster-red shoulders. I find myself hoping we'll get a job in the cloudy and wet Northwest.

III. And speaking of the job seach. We are not currently in the job search! It's official. We're staying here for one more year. Brandon will be a Visiting Professor at the Rawls School of Business here at Tech this coming school year. It's a wonderful opportunity for him, especially because he has been and will continue to be working with top researchers in the Entreprenuership and Leadership disciplines in Management. We're grateful for their interest in him and excited because Brandon is really enjoying his new studies. It's also a wonderful opportunity for him because he doesn't have a Business degree. So, he's getting his foot in the business door without needing a second PhD.

AND on the subject of PhDs...he's finally getting his!!!!! Brandon will graduate August 8th. Hallelujah. He's worked so hard and this next year will probably be the toughest yet, but this is still a huge milestone and a big accomplishment! Yea for Brando!!!!!

Virginia Beach

2009-06-26T22:47:00.000-05:00

If you look carefully, you'll see he's covered in a layer of sand from head to toe.

Where the High Seas Will Take You

2009-06-16T12:07:00.000-05:00

Yesterday Luke said, "I'm Spy-Boy. Pete's Spy-Baby. And you're Spy-Mom."

Today, he had a rolled up piece of paper in each pocket (treasure maps) and a cardboard telescope. "We're the pirate family. Pete's Baby Pirate, I'm Pirate Brudder, you're Pirate Mommy. And my Daddy's Pirate Dad. He's-he's-we're on a pirate ship and he's on another pirate ship workin'."

The conversation continued: "We're sailin' to..." long pause.
I start to fill in destinations: Bermuda? The Carolinas? The South Pacific?

"No, no, we're sailin' to Ok-ah-homah."

(Oklahoma.)

Keep scrolling down for pictures. I'll post more of our Virginia trip later.

Colonial Williamsburg

2009-06-15T22:07:00.000-05:00

In the vegetable garden.

I was inspired by this garden. I was really jonesin' for a backyard and a garden of my own. If you had a garden, what would you plant? Me: strawberries and peas, squash and beans for starters. A period-costumed gardener assigned L a watering job.

The big barrel in the background collects rain water, and mosquitos perhaps. That's Bruton Parish Church/churchyard in the background. Different varieties of peas are growing up the trellis. I did not know there were so many different varieties of peas. Also, the gentleman let us try Alpine Strawberries, but the other three varieties were not ripe enough.And I loved the miniature greenhouse (above)--white planter boxes with window coverings to let the sunlight and warmth in when it's still too chilly outside. Brilliant. Also, the Governor's Palace Gardens had large glass bells covering some of their plants for the same reason. (not pictured, also brilliant.) And I just missed huge flowering pink peonies (pee-uh-knees, please.) I love them. Meanwhile, P. was rummaging for snacks. Jackpot, an apple. On the ground, the white stuff is crushed oyster shells. The colonists lined their garden paths with oyster shells to reflect the moonlight, so they could see where they were going in the dark.

In the graveyard of Bruton Parish Church I found this tombstone. Savage is a family name on Brandon's side. Do you have places that are sacred to you? This graveyard is sacred to me. I feel the generations before me, these Virginians. I feel a similar feeling about all of Jamestown Island and much of Yorktown.

Bruton Parish Church. This pic makes me feel like I'm in the Old World. In the United Kingdom somewhere with Christianity not completely established. The first little while we were there, it was strangely chilly and one night we stopped the car on a bridge and just sat and listened. It was sweater weather and so drenchingly green and misty. It was magical. I wish I could have captured that moment to relive it. I think God must have some kind of recording system for times like that. When I was 10, we hid our eggs in this spot. The boys are sitting in a grassy area across Duke of Gloucester Street from the Palace Green and the Governor's Palace in the distance. L (4 1/2) is sharing his apple with P (1).
Share apple, get bitten.

A different day in Colonial Williamsburg. My dad treated us with tickets so we could go inside the buildings and watch tradespeople work. Anyway, here's a peony!L. and my dad.
L. really wanted to see the inside of the old jail. But we didn't have tickets the first day we went, so we couldn't go inside. We were about to go home, and I told him we had time to see one more thing and asked him which way we should go. He chose the jail. I said that we could walk down there, but they probably wouldn't let us in because we didn't have tickets. L. said carefully, "But if we done sumpin' bad, they'll let us in for free?" Anyway, we did eventually get to see it and it was creepy. This photo is not near the jail. It is next to the Courthouse. L's in the stocks.

These flowers were in the trees lining the Green. I do not know what kind of tree they are. I even tried looking it up. Do you know?

Behind the Governor's Place there is a formal garden. The Governor was the King's representative in the Colony. This is the Royal Coat of Arms above the door to the ballroom. It got a new coat of paint in honor of Queen Elizabeth's visit in 2007. She comes every 50 years to celebrate the 1607 Anniversary of Jamestown, the first permanent English settlement in America.
Feeding chocolate chip cookie bars to the fish in the pond. This college-aged couple sweetly shared their "fish food" with L. The kitchen garden. See the glass bells I mentioned earlier?The maze. This picture is taken from the top of the icehouse mound. I include this picture because I like it of Pete.

Brandon's missing from all these pictures because we often dropped him off at the library so he could work while we played.

Car Travel

2009-06-14T13:02:00.000-05:00

We went to Virginia on a trip for a few weeks. We drove. And Drove.

A 3-day drive there. I highly recommend DVD players. But eventually, even that gets old.

Poor little Pete. He tried multiple times to bust out of his car seat.

Ah, Coca-Cola Moment.

Check out this guy's cargo! A big semi-truck with a flatbed trailer carrying nothing but this little tonka dump truck. Seeing this was like a little gift to our family of mostly boys. Trucks are popular around our house. Trucks and Coke. Yep, that just about covers it.

How appropriate that I have pictures to fit this very moment.

2009-06-13T01:26:00.000-05:00

HUH? Why does everyone think I have bangs? I wasn't being brave.

HOLY CRAP! WHAT HAVE I DONE?!

These are actually both self-portraits while we were on the Jamestown ferry. Luke wanted to pose too. See?

Virginia is for lovers.

2009-06-12T14:36:00.000-05:00

Luke didn't get the memo.

By the way, I didn't make it up.

Wire: I'm back--STOP--

2009-06-04T01:54:00.000-05:00

Went to Virginia--STOP--Pictures are coming--STOP--Bought digital camera--STOP--NO, DON'T STOP! Why didn't anyone tell me how cool they are?!--STOP--Been living in Stone Age--STOP--Or least in the age of the Pony Express--STOP

a page from this chapter: Connected

2009-04-14T01:15:00.000-05:00

There is an ad I see fairly often on "pbs kids." It shows a little paper person kicking a ball and the little paper person kicks the ball off the table onto the floor. The little paper person goes to the edge of the table and leans over to look at the ball far below, unable to reach it. But then, a chain of little paper people are revealed as they unfold from the first little paper person. They retreive the ball by unfolding all the way down to the floor. Once on top of the table again, the little paper people form a circle and the kick the ball to each other. The announcer says, "Connections make life meaningful."

I saw this ad for perhaps the 50th time on Tuesday. (Yes, my son really does watch that much t.v.)

The Spirit confirms to me that personal connections do make life meaningful, but even more than that, that spiritually, we are connected:

That our individual welfare is linked to others and we are to help one another, That our Heavenly Father answers our prayers through other people, That we are instruments in His hands to answer other people’s prayers, And that when we kick the ball off the table, we need not, and cannot, retrieve by ourselves. And although it is through our direct relationship with the Savior that we are saved or helped, often other people are supposed to be involved in the process.

Developing understanding of this personal-interconnectedness is perhaps the biggest lesson I have been learning while we live in Lubbock.

B. and I are often--continually?--blessed by the generosity of others and their willingness to listen and obey heavenly promptings. It is both daunting and happy to hope to become like them--to be one of the little paper people in the chain that retrieves the ball.

And I hope that through regular temple attendance and spiritual progress, I can become more capable of the love it takes to be a good servant.

More capable, more responsible, more willing.

Spring Mosaic and Two Spring Poems

2009-04-02T11:38:00.000-05:00

A Prayer in Spring
by Robert Frost

Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers today;

And give us not to think so far away

As the uncertain harvest; keep us here

All simply in the springing of the year.

Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white,

Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night;

And make us happy in the happy bees,

The swarm dilating round the perfect trees.

And make us happy in the darting bird

That suddenly above the bees is heard,

The meteor that thrusts with needle bill,

And off a blossom in mid-air stands still.

For this is love and nothing else is love,

The which it is reserved for God above

To sanctify to what far ends He will,

But which it only needs that we fulfill.

I Meant To Do My Work Today

by Richard Le Gallienne

I meant to do my work today,

But a brown bird sang in the apple tree,

And a butterfly flitted across the field,

And all the leaves were calling me.
And the wind went sighing over the land,

Tossing the grasses to and fro,

And a rainbow held out its shining hand--

So what could I do but laugh and go?

Jana inspired me with her recent post. If you happen to post a Spring photo or mosaic of your own (or of generous flickr fairies) I want to see it! Poems, too.

References:

Poems found at: http://www.dltk-holidays.com/spring/poem/ (I want to explore it more.)

1. http://www.flickr.com/photos/92674583@N00/356587889/">Robin egg blue, 2. http://www.flickr.com/photos/fleurhallam/2206940086/">Spring Walk Together, 3. http://www.flickr.com/photos/foxypar4/2237123651/">I want to be a robin! #1, 4. http://www.flickr.com/photos/jamuudsen/145813811/">"weet weet weet tsee tsee", 5. http://www.flickr.com/photos/melissaa/416418795/">Thirsty Bee!, 6. Untitled, 7. http://www.flickr.com/photos/lynnintokyo/2330766508/">easter basket, 8. http://www.flickr.com/photos/richardpeters/499329541/">Spring Lamb - 2007 BBC Countryfile competition winner., 9. :: faith ::

(Maybe if I type something down here, the spacing and font size will work. Nope.)

Do I get "pain and suffering" for this?

2009-03-12T23:49:00.001-05:00

Because property damage just won't cover it.

Why I haven't posted lately:

Breathe.

So, it's my Brag, I mean Blog, and I'll post what I want to.

2009-02-28T11:48:00.001-06:00

Words L. has used appropriately:

familiar (as in, "That looks familiar to me.")

surface (while smoothing the sand at the playground, "to make a flat surface.")

predator (reading a book about ducks: the mother duck will hide her babies from enemies. "L, do you know what enemies are?" "They're other animals that would want to hurt you, ya know, like predators.")

dissertation ("Daddy has to work on his dissertation.")

realize ("I'm going to realize my full potential." Hee-hee, just kidding. More like, "I didn't realize that...")

Vocabulary SAT, my kid's gonna kick your trash. (I'm so eloquent, he must get it from me.)

But he's still my baby:

"Mommy did you buy night-night underwear at the store?"

"No."

"Did you forgot?"

I love how he still calls McDonald's, Mickle-Donald's, too.

These pictures were taken back in December. L & P (They sound like a utilities company) wrestling. P. in the tub. L & P with our good friends' baby girl, J.

White flour is the devil.

2009-02-26T14:25:00.000-06:00

Taken from a note I just sent my sister-in-law:

"I've been an emotional wreck for a good two weeks. I even bought a package (large) of Oreos. I think Brandon's had 2 and yet, 2/3 of the package is missing. Huh."

Oh, and I forgot to mention that in that same shopping trip, I bought Ritz crackers.

The world as our family knows it is coming to an end.

Or at least, we're probably moving soon and my subconscious thinks I'll stay put in my comfort zone if I'm too fat to move...literally.

On the bright side, today was my turn to teach preschool. We learned about birds. They thumbed through picture books to answer questions about birds while I illustrated and sounded out their responses...Ooooo, letter-sound recognition on the sly! We read a book that introduced us to several kinds of birds and we imitated their songs. We made birdfeeders w/ pinecones, peanut butter, and birdseed. Then we went on a "nest hunt" and walked to a tree with a nest in it. Then we played at a nearby park. Finally, we walked home for snacks (cough-Ritz crackers and cheese-cough) and stories.

Hark! I've added a playlist. And big news from the homefront.

2009-01-30T13:47:00.000-06:00

It's down at the veeeeeeeeeery bottom of the page and it is so worth the scroll.

And watch this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2_HXUhShhmY

I love this music video for Her Morning Elegance, Oren Lavie. It's brilliant and you will not feel like you've wasted your three minutes. Promise.

And we have news: Li'l P. can crawl! And he will, if enticed properly with Mommy's glasses or dangling tubing from a nebulizer. His current long-distance record is about 6 feet. I don't think he's quite embraced his freedom yet, but the winds of change are blowing.

It's hereditary.

2009-01-24T15:12:00.000-06:00

He was kneeling beside the black folding chair, quietly coloring.

"L, you can't leave your markers strewn all over the carpet with the lids off."

"I'm an artist. Artists do that."

Notes:
His very own real desk was less than a yard away. He put the lids on the markers...after he saw the ring of blue around the baby's mouth and smeared on the baby's cheeks and shirt and light-grey sweatpants. Osh-Kosh-B'Gosh!

Your House is Definitely Cleaner than My House

2009-01-16T19:10:00.000-06:00

Just to illustrate that sad state of my housekeeping:

4 y.o. L.: "What are we doing today?"
me: "We have to do some major cleaning."
L.: "Why? Who's coming over?"

My Best Birthday Ever

2009-01-14T22:16:00.000-06:00

I started on this post last night, but was too sleepy to finish it. It was my last night on earth as a twenty-something. Today I joined the ranks of grown-ups everywhere whose children will someday remember when their parents were thirty-somethings. Adulthood. I have arrived.

The rest of this post will be so self-indulgent. Grab a puke bag. I understand if you can't stomach it (unless you were one of my roommates. In that case, here's to you, Baby!)

Freshman Year: After hiding the fish in the cupboard for cleaning checks, we then forgot about him for TWO WEEKS. The little bugger was still alive, but in very murky water when we remembered him. He was re-Christened 'Trooper.' I say "the" fish, because he wasn't my fish and I refused to have anything to do with him. (Read: clean the fishbowl.) Half-way through the year, we acquired a new roommate. It wasn't long before we knew Heaven had smiled down us. xoxoxox, Cin.

Sophomore Year: Four roommates stayed together and we added two more. We lucked out again.

Our best buddy lived two doors down and we happily shared him. Really, really happily. New York Dave never forgot any of our birthdays. He gave us treats and decorations for every holiday. We were at BYU and couples' engagements were often announced in our ward bulletins. One day in my absence, NY Dave was perusing the announcements. (I'm sure he was often amused at the Mormon-mini-culture because he wasn't LDS.) The following week's bulletin ran our engagement. He even gave me a ring carved out of a peach pit to commemorate the event and I still have it. Another time, Nat made him pee blue in honor of his newly-dyed hair. We had a long-standing war of pranks and Nat was waiting for the perfect time to whip out her secret weapon: the ethylene blue. When New York Dave dyed his hair neon blue, we just had to celebrate it with a blue cake. Stubborn as a mule, he flushed the evidence before his roommate could judge its blue-ness.
NY Dave said he was an atheist. I mention this because I'm so used to gauging goodness and morality using a religious barometer. But he kept watch over us like a brother.

To see crazy used as a noun, read on.

We kept a quote board because we were HI-liarous and history-making. Katri (crows caw and you climb a tree) probably had the most quotes without even tryin'. It must have been the fermones (I'm sure she can tell me how to spell that.) She is a swimming fool. Well, after her nightly swims, she often ran into a certain Crazy from upstairs who would smell her and ecstatically say, "Aaaah, fermones." Yikes.

And I kissed a boy again. And it was about freakin' time. And it was seriously a mistake.

(and now I'm thinking, "what if he ever reads that?!" "He won't. Get over yourself.") *

My junior and senior years kind of meld together in my memory: I started working at the Museum of Art Cafe. I would walk to work around seven in the morning when it was still pretty dark outside. I remember one particular morning: the sky was dark blue and the stars were out and a sliver of the moon was visible. I felt such love all around me; for me and from me for God's creations.

I was really involved with my practicums and classes. All of my classes were with the same 21 girls. I made friends with some amazing teachers-in-the-making; the kind of teachers I would want my little ones to have and the kind of teachers I would want to be. I love Early Childhood Education. Late one night, after my freshman year, I felt like I needed to change my major. I thumbed through a fat catalog of programs and came back to the Elementary Education page where I had started. Then my eyes rested on Early Childhood Education and I thought, "Of course." I closed the book, went to bed, and never looked back. It was one of the best decisions I ever made.

Maybe because I felt so full of purpose and vision, I realized that I would live a happy life regardless of my marital status.

The summer after my Senior year I started dating like crazy.

He was a visiting soccer coach from the UK. I met him when I picked up my nanny-charge from a practice. He was Catholic and beautiful in a red-headed-muscular-Irish sort of way. I imagine all men in pubs look exactly like him. When he called the first time, I lied and said that I had plans. He said with an English accent, "Well, tha's a damn shame, id'n it." And I was hooked. I LOVED him. Very, very briefly. When it ended, I was over him in two weeks flat. It was so freeing and exciting and exactly what I needed.

Here's to The Rebound. (Really, I was his rebound.) He was LDS. He was from my hometown. He was adorable and made me laugh. But. He wasn't affectionate in front of his friends. Attn: Single girls everywhere! This is very, very bad! So I broke it off.

Let me repeat that: I broke it off. (Applause.)

Everything that happened after that was the beginning of the rest of my life and the reason why this was my best birthday ever.

*(Added later) P.S. You'll never guess who befriended me on Facebook. And just to refresh his memory, if he does happen to read this: you thought it was a mistake too!

IN HIS ELEMENT

2009-01-08T15:18:00.000-06:00

(I wrote the title in all caps

because it's just so musculine and sexy.)

And here HE is, in his element:

And here am i:

I love hiking with my B.
He is so sure on his feet and he makes it so I can go places I could never go alone.

Is this one exactly like the first?

Happy 4th Birthday, Kiddo!

2009-01-08T14:34:00.000-06:00

L. turned 4 this past November. Happy Belated B-day, Buddy!

When he grows up, he wants to be a construction worker.

or a shoe model...just kidding.

Out our front door in jammies....at least he's clothed. When he's naked or in just underwear, he spreads his arms out proudly as if to say, "Look at me!"

Then, with a huge smile on his face, he says, "Do I look embarrassing?"

For his party we had a "Kids' Night at The Movies" with movie tickets for invitations.

We did pizza, pj's, and Disney's Robin Hood.

This one was a party-animal.

"One of these things is not like the other..."

2009-01-08T14:22:00.001-06:00

My beautiful boys--all three of them.

P.S. It's like I'm the milkman.

(photo by Gaylene Erwin)

a page from this chapter: an abundance of love

2009-01-06T16:48:00.000-06:00

Before P. was born, B. gave me a Priesthood blessing. Within that blessing, one of the things I was blessed with was that I would have everything I thought I needed to feel okay. Shortly afterward, I was up in the middle of the night with false labor pains. They hurt. They were at regular intervals. But then they would go away. On the third night, the pain intensified, but the contractions were no longer at regular intervals. I assumed that I couldn't be in labor unless they were five minutes apart.

I was wrong. With excruciating contractions at 13 minutes apart and then 1 minute apart, we finally called a friend to come stay with L. and then B. drove me to the hospital. On the way there, I said I was thirsty. He said, "Do you want me to stop at a gas station and get you a bottle of water?" I know he meant well. :)

It was almost 5 in the morning when we arrived at the hospital and made our way upstairs. By the time the elevator dinged for the third floor and our stop, I knew with a dread I have never felt before, that we had waited too long. I knew the baby was coming very soon and I was terrified. As we slowly made our way down the hall, I held on to a handrail and muttered panicked prayers to God. I begged Him repeatedly, "Please, please let me have an epidural." I truly, truly thought that I my heart would stop and I would die from pain or fright or a mixture of both. I was not going to be okay.

Superman, I mean, the anesthesiologist, was already at the hospital because he had been called in for another patient. It all happened so quickly, that I signed all of the check-in paperwork and permission forms after giving birth.

In retrospect, I probably would have survived natural childbirth. But Heavenly Father did not bless me with what I needed to be okay. He blessed me with what I needed to feel okay.

Two Sundays ago, our bishop (and father of 5) spoke about our Heavenly Father's love for us. Drawing on the experience of his own fatherhood, he said (and I paraphrase), "After our first baby was born, I could not imagine being able to love another child as much as I loved her." He resisted having more children. But, "then our second child was born and I loved him just as much." Then he used the pie analogy: When you have more children, you don't divide the pie [your love], you just make more pie."

Heavenly Father has a whole pie for me. I feel it even as I type it. Sometimes I forget it.

I understand that this abundant love often blesses me with things that I need, but don't always want. But sometimes, His abundant love and plan for me includes the things I want for no other apparent reason than that I want them. I have heard, "The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away." But sometimes, He, who knows the beginning from the end, just gives. And I am thankful for those rescuing moments. And as time goes on, maybe I will learn to see all moments as rescuing moments, even when He gives and takes.

A page from this chapter: Lifesavers

2009-01-05T22:38:00.000-06:00

We will be moving from Lubbock this Spring or Summer. I still have time and I'm not saying goodbye yet. But, I know the time is coming so I've decided to begin recording highlights (and lowlights) of our family's Lubbock Chapter. I hope this will be a series of posts. And please forgive the journaling and sometimes brutal honesty. It wouldn't be my blog without the drama.

When we came to Lubbock, I was pregnant with a capital P. We drove south on I-27 past the crummiest, most industrial area. All I remember was grey earth, grey buildings, and grey telephone lines. Presumably, that wasn't reality since it was a bright, blue-skyed summer day.

A few weeks later, I stood in an "office." (Read, "rented corner space in a run-down, strip mall; it's only neighbor a cigarette shop with bars on the windows.) I wore black flipflops and a red maternity top and white capris. I had an hour and a half to memorize that outfit as I waited in line to make an appointment with a Medicaid social worker. I was appalled at the plight of the already down-trodden with their fate resting in the hands of state beauracracies everywhere.

With the blinds drawn, I watched People's Court and waited.

Enter: Ray of Light. My Blue Sky Boy, born November 17, 2004. I was in love with you from the moment I saw you. You looked up at me with slate-blue eyes and a wrinkly forehead. You had me at Hello, Baby.

But I was sick. I didn't snap out of it. I couldn't think straight. I didn't even know I wasn't thinking straight. I was blessed to stay in love with you, but not with myself. I sat on the bathroom floor and made fists so hard, I pressed tiny half moons into my hands with my fingernails.

Lifeguard: A phone call. "Can I come over? Right now." C. shared her experiences and honesty and egg salad sandwiches with me. She brought the best bread and by some miracle, I didn't overcook the eggs. I began to understand the preamble to "Men are that they might have joy." (See 2 Nephi 2:22-25). As I talked about it, it solidified. I took a shower while she held the baby. She left me with wet hair and an opened view.

Lifeboat: Queenie invited us to Family Home Evening and introduced us to our first real pal-around friends. Finn made a small carrot cake just for me for my birthday one year. Hemingway gave me a tulip. Around Christmas time, Hemingway's J sent me home with his Sudoku games. Cat taught me how to make THE best raman with fresh vegetables. Pang gave blessings and called to follow up. After one Thanksgiving, we went for a walk. Pang said we could all live together and share the cocaine. (Okay, he actually said we could share the COOKING, but a boy from Hong Kong can be misunderstood.)

And I officially broke through the ocean's surface and breathed bright, fresh air.

P.S. I asked my B if I should publish this, and he paused and said, "Well, it's personal." If that's not a green light, I don't know what is! No, these experiences shaped the arc of of my progression here, so they're in.

P.P.S. The flipflops were "Locals." Hollah, Katri!

Starlight, starbright

2008-12-23T23:29:00.000-06:00

"The night is dark, it seems starless, but I know it’s not. Sometimes, it’s just the cloud cover that blocks my ability to see the small twinkles of light that dot the night sky."
Click here to read my sister-in-law's most recent post at Segullah. It is lovely and I highly recommend it.

Only human

2008-12-16T00:26:00.000-06:00

Sunday promised to be a warm day. And it was warm. And windy. Dirt-in-your-eye windy. The Texas wind is a plains wind. It swept across empty, unplanted fields and tossed loose, rusty dirt into the sky.

We were safe in our car.

A man on the corner held a very large, wooden cross announcing, "Jesus Loves You!" Behind him, the sky was angry, a choking peachy-brown. One driver honked his horn in support as he zipped through the intersection. "Beep Beep! I agree!" But that's about as friendly as it got. Unforunately, the only ones to read the sign were people who were already devoted enough to get their butts out of bed and go to....wait for it....Church.

Most of us were thinking, "Yyyep. And He'll still love you if you call it day. He made the wind and the dirt in your eye. Go home. Testify on a less blustery day."

I said, "I'm not as devoted as that guy." And I'm not. Long-suffering is not a personal strength. Nor did I think to bring him a hot chocolate or...something. That's sad considering I had just come from...wait for it again...Church. And it's not really comforting to note that you didn't stop either.

Well, maybe it is. Sometimes I think it does help to remember that I'm not the only human being who is only human.

I have a friend who is expecting a baby. It's wonderful. And terrible. She's very sick. My friend went to Target the other day to make a quick return. Exhausted by building a placenta or tiny toes, she just couldn't hack the long walk from the nether regions of the parking lot. Plus, those empty spaces were just too far from the morning-sickness-accommodating public restrooms she might possibly need to rush to. So, she swiped a handicapped space. There is more to this story, but the point is, she felt guilty.

{By the way, I don't know how to fix that sentence. It "might possibly" be redundant ending with a "to?" }

In conclusion (because I know you haven't followed me):

We do things inefficiently (testifying to ourselves in a windstorm.) We aren't always committed enough to make sacrifices for a great cause (witnessing in a windstorm, even if the only one who really witnesses it is the Creator of said windstorm.) We don't stop to shield another from the windstorm (or at least bring a restorative cup of joe, I mean, cocoa.) We make jokes about coffee when we've promised to abstain AND to avoid the appearance of evil. We don't know how not to...end a sentence with a preposition. And we must call attention to our faults and/or grammatical errors before someone else does. We are simply mortal; sometimes sick, sometimes weary, and never able to foretell the future. And sometimes we take things that don't belong to us.

Sometimes, there are valid reasons for taking things that don't belong to us. And sometimes, even the most valid of reasons are not valid enough to satisfy the demands of our own conscience.

The lessons I'll be learning until I die
The antidotes to this mortal quandary: Flexibility in the face of unforeseen circumstances, giving and receiving mercy, and laughter and friendship -->thus, hopefully increasing my own personal devotion.

P.S. This post does not speak for my friend.

In the leafy treetops, the birds sing, "Good Morning!"

2008-11-27T09:10:00.001-06:00

"They're first to see the sun; they must tell everyone!
In the leafy treetops, the birds sing, "Good Morning."

This summer my brother and Birdie got married. They were sealed in the Salt Lake Temple. Later that evening, in the late afternoon summer shade, they exchanged rings before family and friends. As she looked out over assorted --even mismatched-- loved-ones, Birdie smiled contentedly and said, "This is exactly how I pictured it."

This morning as I was getting ready for the day, I was thinking about Birdie, who I'll see in a couple of hours and give thanks with on this holy Thanksgiving Day (holy in all it's grateful-turkey-football-familyness) and I remembered her quiet happiness. And I wished it for me, and I wish it for you, and I wish it for our little ones, parents, and for Birdie today: that Thanksgiving will be exactly how you pictured it.

With love,
C.

P.S. L. had a birthday. Photos haven't been developed. (No, we haven't joined the digital age.) I'll post-post about it. It Rocked.

To be sung with Scottish Brogue:

2008-11-16T14:01:00.000-06:00

I would walk 500 miles,
And I would 500 more
Just to be the man who walks a thousand miles to fall down at your door.

Da da da da!

And if you seriously can't sing along with me (how sad):

http://search.playlist.com/tracks/i%20would%20walk

So, my birthday is coming up. And this one's not just any birthday. It's the Big 3-0. I remember when my parents were in their thirties. They were grown-ups.

As a birthday present to myself, I'm setting a goal to walk, not 500, but 100 miles by the happy occasion.

This isn't a weight loss goal, although that'd be nice. Nor will this excuse me from gym time. And I'm not counting the walks I take around Walmart...you know, that purposefully, poorly designed store that sucks you in and only spits you out until after you've spent 3 hours and 3 times as much money as you'd planned. (Aaaaaanyway...)

Walking 100 miles will not be difficult. But it will take a concerted effort to getter-done. (Yes, I did just use the words "getter done" and "concerted effort" in the same sentence. I'm conflicted.)

In order to accomplish this goal, I will need to walk an average of 11.1111111 miles per week.

So, will you help me? You don't have to walk a mile in my shoes, you can just walk a mile beside them.

It'll be the cheapest birthday present you ever bought.

7 months old today

2008-11-09T22:17:00.000-06:00

Words fail.

The Great Pumpkin

2008-11-09T21:30:00.000-06:00

Trick-or-Treat!

Here are our pics from Halloween.

L.'s a construction worker, not Bob the Builder. P.'s the fattest little puppy you ever saw.

Things you might have overheard their dorky mom saying:

"Dat puppy needs to be put on a diet! Oh, it's a baby? Well, he's perfect then."

And,

"Say, 'I Love This Old House!'" (He said it! hee hee.)

I know he needs a haircut. BUT ANYWAY, we love "the fixin' guys" at our house. (This Old House, PBS) And that vest was made by yours truly out of a paper grocery sack. Just call me Martha.

The dalmation costume was made by me too. I'm freakin' amazing. Just call me...Target...3 years ago. (Little P.'s costume inheriting has officially begun. Next year: tigger. The year after that: Luke Skywalker...oh, wait.)

Because this is how church callings are supposed to work

2008-11-08T17:16:00.000-06:00

What Christmas songs will the Primary kids sing in Sacrament Meeting?

LET'S VOTE!

When Joseph Went to Bethlehem
Away In A Manger (hymn version)
Silent Night (possibly with ASL)
Hark! The Herald Angels Sing (think a Charlie Brown Christmas, v.1 only)
Santa Baby?!

Yes, I will pray about it.

But, seriously, any requests?

Walmart 911

2008-11-06T16:46:00.000-06:00

As I loaded up the cart with apples, I believed that L. was drooling over the donuts. He wasn't. I turned around. I turned back around. He. was. gone. I looked and looked. I looked long enough that I asked for help. I closed my eyes right where I was standing, in the middle of Produce, and prayed. Then I asked the guy in the navy blue vest with the button name tag.

When we found L (on his way in to the arcade) I grabbed his little grey Texas Tech hoodie with one hand and covered my face with the other and BAWLED. You know, that heaving, silent cry. Then, surrounded by 5 or 6 Walmart employees, I knelt down, still crying, but able to speak.

"I was so frightened. I thought someone might have taken you away from me and never given you back. I was worried you were kidnapped. Please stay close to me. Don't wander away. I thought I might have lost you...."

Midflow, he said, "But I thought you might have been mama-grabbed."

TV Land

2008-11-01T15:04:00.000-05:00

Me: I think you watch too much t.v.
L: No way! My brain's still workin'.

He'll be 4 in 2 weeks.

L's mosaic

2008-10-27T15:20:00.001-05:00

Again, these photos are all from Flickr. See My Mosaic (two posts back) for instructions.

B's mosaic

2008-10-26T22:11:00.001-05:00

1. first name

2. favorite food-Chinese

3. high school-Davis High. He must remember these mornings: dark, cold, snowy, and wishing you were still in bed.

4. favorite color-purple

5. celebrity crush-Marlon Brando. Okay, so he doesn't actually have a crush on Marlon Brando, but I just couldn't bring myself to post a picture of Marissa Tomei.

6. favorite drink-coke. Read what that wall says! "Delicious & Refreshing; Coca Cola relieves fatigue."

7. dream vacation-Lake Powell (Aerosmith: "DREAM ON, DREAM ON!)

8. favorite dessert-cafeteria style peanut butter bars

9. When you grow up, you want to be...-a professor

10. What do you love most in this life? The Lord.

11. One word to describe you: persistent.

12. Free Space: MOUNTAINS. He loves them; he craves them.

My Mosaic

2008-10-21T00:31:00.000-05:00

To make your own picture mosaic, type your response to each of the following questions into the flickr search engine, choose a picture from the first page that comes up, then post the URL's into the mosaic maker. Thank you, my friend S. for doing this in your blog. (It was beautiful.) And do you see how many links I just did?! (Freakin' amazing.) Guilty conscience speaking: I bent the rules a tiny bit. But, rules are made to be....bent.

Q & Answers ala Moi:

1. What is your first name? Carrie [Originally, I was going to go with a Carrie Caye photo, but this picture reminded me of a beautiful and dream I had before I met Brando. And yes, I wrote Brando on purpose. It's his preferred nickname. (Smoooooooch!)]

2. What's your favorite kind of food? Italian food (But this french cafe reminded me of B. and our many explorations and happy restaurant discoveries and I like French food, too. Who doesn't?)

3. Where did you attend high school? Davis High, rah! rah! This pic was taken in the mountains above my home town. And, yes, when you arrive, you too will see things through a magical blue-green lens.

4. What is your favorite color? blue and green and.... (This image came up when I search "blue, green, white, pink.")

5. Celebrity crush? James MacAvoy (I can't help it. I loved him in Penelope. I'll get over him when I see another movie that I love.)

6. What is your favorite drink? Lemonade.

7. What is your dream vacation? Europe.

8. What is your favorite dessert? Chocolate mousse cake, carrot cake, and strawberry shortcake (The carrot cake picture won.) And since seeing S.'s apple pie picture, that's my favorite too.

9. When you grow up, you want to be.....? Brave. (But I found this picture by searching "perfect.")

10. What do you love most in your life? My husband and sons.

11. What's one word to describe you? kindergarten teacher (oh, that's 2 words. But this picture fills my heart with JOY.)

12. Peonies! I love their heavy heads. I don't remember what you're supposed to do for #12. I considered it to be optional.

photo description

Rest

2008-10-18T21:34:00.000-05:00

With the advent cooler days, I've felt my spirit drooping. I am anticipating the bare branches, the dry brown grass, the creeping vines to replace their blossoms with prickly thistles. Mostly I'm remembering the wind, sometimes biting and sometimes filling the once blue sky with brown dust clouds. Winter's coming. Winter's coming.

With each spin of the earth, a new day dawns. The leaves soak in the sunlight, the roots gather nutrients. Everything is growing, working, producing in the day. Then night comes and even the trees rest. They do not soak in the sun. Inhale. Exhale. They rest.

In the Spring, seeds shoot roots down, shoot stems up, and the tendrils creep and gather nutrients, Sun. Summer flowers sprout, bees pollinate, fruit plumps. So much Summer bounty and sunshine and produce. Then Indian Summer sunshine and cool nights. Then Harvest and Blessings and Gathering.

Late Fall. We gather, give thanks.

And then it is the cold Solstice and the earth is still spinning but she rests. Peaceful snow-slumber night. And in the night, we read by the fireplace The Story and see the black sky and the pinpoint stars and the one star and the One. And we rest. And we rejoice.

And we endure. The winter drudges on. But then little by little the seeds shoot and the tendrils creep and find sun and earth.

Perspective.

And application. Produce! Carrie. Plant and sow and let your tendrils creep toward light and food, and produce! Then rest like Mother Earth in her season, in your night, in your winter. Inhale. Exhale. Breathe and rest...and rejoice.

To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven... (Ecclesiastes 3:1)

So Dad, do you feel OLD?

2008-10-07T21:13:00.000-05:00

In the car today, our little historian commented, "In 1849, Papa jumped out of airplanes."

Did you say, "1849??"

"Uh-huh. In 1849, Papa jumped out of airplanes. He doesn't do that anymore. Papa told me that."

(Papa is my dad --his grandfather-- not his great-great-great...you get the picture.)

"We gather together to ask the Lord's blessing..."

2008-10-04T23:20:00.000-05:00

"He chastens and hastens His will to be known."

This is not a sermon; it's a personal reminder on which you are invited to eavesdrop. I have been filled with happiness today. I think Elder Holland's talk is lingering longest. It was unexpected and beautiful. (Saturday) And feel free to skip ahead to day 2. It was a bit more entertaining at our house.

These are the highlights of my Conference experience today.
1. I love staying home with B. xoxox
2. L. was exceptional for...L. Puzzles, blocks, some climbing (on me), raisins.
3. Now THE highlights:

KEY
blue - RE-READ (bold.)
green - work to improve
red - answers to prayers (STOP! NOTICE.)
purple - personal insight/prompting/revelation
gold-Opening a new world to me AMAZING or takes my breath away AMAZING.

day 1

President Thomas S. Monson

A temple in Rome. Pray for opening of areas for the preaching of the gospel.

L. Tom Perry
A Simplified Lifestyle.
The spirit and body are the soul of man.
Word of Wisdom
Live within your income. Thrift, industry, economy, frugality.

Sylvia H. Allred
She and her sister raced to read the Book of Mormon.

Neil A. Anderson
"Faith is not only a feeling; it is a decision." (a confirmation of personal reflection)

Dallin H. Oaks
"We are seated before the meeting begins." HELLO, CARRIE!!

President Deiter F. Uchtdorf
"Hope is believing and expecting that our prayers will be answered."

Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin
Laugh. "The next time you want to groan, you might think to laugh." It makes the lives of others happier. "Put your trust in the Lord. Do your best. Then leave the rest to Him." (B.'s article, job search)

Jeffrey R. Holland

Angels. {Pray for angels to attend your loved ones and to attend you.} He will fight our battles, our children's battle's, our children's children's battles.

Elder Bednar

Prayer. Meaningful morning prayer is part of the spiritual creation of a new day. Morning and evening prayers are not individual instances, but should be linked together; a continued conversation. I felt like he was giving us a glimpse of a higher spiritual plane. It was conceptually new to me. Enlightening.

Heavenly Father lives and He hears and answers every earnest prayer.

day 2

Written in black for a reason. The reason is almost 4 years old and wasn't quite as cooperative as he was yesterday. He had to apologize multiple times today for various things, one of which was cutting the string holding the blinds together into the cutest little...SHREDS. (And I was sitting right there and didn't even notice. Classic.) Our conversation was as follows:

me: Do you think that was a good choice or a bad choice?

him: Bad choice.

me: When you were cutting, did you think Mommy would be happy or not happy?

him: (putting his hand out flat in front of him, head shaking left to right) But I did not think about that.

me: When Daddy sees this, do you think he will be happy or crazy-mad?

him: Crazy-mad.

postscript: He wasn't crazy-mad.

And so, I just don't remember as much of Conference from today.

But, Pres. Monson's was beautiful. The constancy of change. The little ones will grow up. Toys strewn all over the house. Piles of laundry. I cried because he said "piles of laundry" like he had actually seen piles of laundry.

At breakfast, Bubba talked about seaMOUSES. They live in the water and then when spring comes, they go to the forest to eat leaves. At dinner, he talked about pirates. On some pirate ships, there are good people. And the pirates say, "Well fellows, are you going to be pirates or walk the plank and go 'plash into the water?"

This is me immersed in motherhood.

P.S. And the baby fell off the couch today...this is you feeling like an awesome parent.

P.P.S. He's fine.

"Are ya hOn-gry?"

2008-09-14T23:37:00.000-05:00

Those might be the most saintly words ever spoken.

Two Saturday evenings ago, we had dinner with the H's...where have you both been my whole Lubbock Life?!

Bro. H is a surfer (no kiddin') from Southern California. Sis. H is from El Salvador. When they married, he already had 6 children from a previous marriage. While single, a friend of his told him, "Bro. H, you're a pretty good looking guy. But with six kids, you're not that good lookin."

Lucky for him, Sis. H fell in love with his kids first. She would take them to the Latino swapmeets. She said she was the black mama duck with six white baby ducks following behind.

Our evening went a little like this:

Bubba 1 followed her to the grill. He followed her to the dumpster out back. He followed her to the freezer for ice cream. He had a banana split. Bubba 1 was happy.

But not happy enough to give up Bubba 2.

With El Salvadorian accent, holding 5 month old Bubba 2,
Sis. H: "Ooooh, my baby! You can stay here tonight. Your new name is Bubba H."
Then resting her hand on her chest, "Mama H."

Bubba 1: No, he's my baby.

Sis. H: My Baby!

Bubba 1: Mine.

Later...

Reluctantly putting Bubba #2 in his carseat to go home, I said, (tearing up, which I'm prone to do--oh brother) "I really loved being here." And Sister H leaned over, put her arm around my shoulder and said, "This is your home." It was like I had my grandmother back from the abyss of Alzheimer's. Thank you, Mama H.

jamerivergirl and Grandma P.

Inspired by Nie

2008-09-12T12:43:00.000-05:00

In honor of and inspired by NieNie

http://nieniedialogues.blogspot.com/

Five reasons I choose to be HAPPY today:

rain.

more than 6 inches in one day.

wonderful wet miracle.

the mayor declared a state of emergency...it's pretty dry this morning.

laughter

see above.

fat blonde babies

2 teeth

he's handling it so well.

and because I choose and I finally remembered that this morning.

Why do you choose?

Musing on a name.

2008-09-09T22:43:00.000-05:00

Who am I, really?

I decided to go by jamesrivergirl. BUT, I'm not. I don't live there. I don't even SWIM. I'm a poser!

Crap.

So, who am I really?

Girl. Woman. Wife. The boys' mommy.

I'm good at storytime. I'm bad at playing. I'm good at tickling. I'm good at verbal and physical affection. I'm also good at flipping on PBS and at raising my voice. So I'm a great or lazy mother depending on the time of...day. But my boys love me. Like, they are in love with me.

Which leads me to the next piece of my identity. I am LUCKY. See, I was stupid and didn't realize I'd hit the jackpot when I married Mr. Right.

Then I was on the pill and I forgot or something...and the fertility goddess smiled on me. Voila: the best mistake we ever made--Bubba 1. Which led (eventually) to the best decision we ever made: Bubba 2. And now, I'm a stay-at-home-mom who, ahem, likes it.

So, here are the nuts and bolts:

wife, mother, currently residing in Lubbock, West Texas (yes, that should be a state of the Union), yoga novice, getting my cable-fix elyptical training, Latter-day Saint, but not always Christian, socially inept yet sometimes friendly, alien-feeling, 29 year old who wishes and waits for her permanent residence in Virginia or near the Oregon coast or some other beautiful locale yet to be discovered, but would like to transplant a couple hundred-thousand West Texans amongst the trees.

Plus, I love to read. I neglect housekeeping and my children to do so.

Once upon a time, I was a teacher with a (tiny) paycheck (but worth my weight in gold.) I was somewhat of an Early Childhood officianado...until I actually had to live with young children.

And I love the ferry. And I love seafood. And lately, I LOVE brownies. And I like to cook. And I like my house to be clean. (hah, hah, hah, hah, hah...you don't think that's funny?) And I love to have friends over. And I love to not feel the need to rehearse every conversation I have with you, but that's usually not to be.

And I love seeing new places with my fellow-explorer/bungler/spouse. And I love watching movies with said spouse. And we love dark, cozy restaurants.

And I love early morning light and hate getting out of bed. And I like co-sleeping and sleeping with my spouse who hates co-sleeping.

So, can you name me, please?

Ta-dum!

2008-09-02T22:57:00.000-05:00

Preemptive, considering I haven't learned how to upload photos.