Freed

James has added to his repertoire climbing from the crib. He's been able to hook his leg over the rail for a couple weeks, but hadn't tried anything with it until today. It must be time to take off the side. It's about time, I guess. Both Elena and Joseph made the transition at least 6 months younger. I have a hard time remembering that he's as old as he is. Elena was making pancakes at this age. Joseph was telling stories. Maybe it's because James doesn't speak English. Now, if only I spoke Mandarin. Or maybe Russian. Or whatever it is he's been speaking for a year and a half.

Sidetracked

Something I've noticed with falls is that no matter how badly your knees and hands are bleeding at the time, it doesn't take that long to get up on your feet and limp into the house, wash away the dirt and grime, pick out the bits of leaves or gravel, and marvel at the shallow scrapes. Surely, it had to have been worse than that--loose bits of flesh, a dire need for stitches, something like that, right? No. As I said, a thousand tiny heartaches, each a grain of sand scraping at my skin. The only reason it hurt at all is that they all came at once. One little trip, I lost my balance, and the earth rose up to meet me with such awful force. Yet with a bit of warm water and soap it washes away. You get on with what you need to do. You also wonder why you ruined your mascara in public.

Such is life. When things are going well, you do your various chores--getting the kids to school, running errands, planning meals, teaching lessons--and think nothing of it. It's just what you do. It's why I didn't have a post for every day in November, despite my ambitions. I was busy doing other things. I read books, I knit a pair (and a half) of socks, I pulled out winter clothes and put away shorts. I went to the library and the mall. I finally went grocery shopping. I earned a bit of money doing a couple different projects and treated myself to some gorgeous sock yarn. I'm not sure if all of it's going to turn into socks or if one or two balls will become a shawl, but that's for another day. I even found myself in another rite of parental passage--treating Elena for head lice. (By the way, even if you don't have any critters at the moment, tea tree oil--in shampoo or other products--both treats and prevents. I got referred to Lice Ice when I was at Walgreens and it seems to be working well.)

The thing is, though, it's, well... life. You get wrapped up in what you're doing and the next thing you know it's two weeks later and your out-of-town friends start to wonder about you. Honestly, it was only the second bad day in two whole months of shock and then recovery. These peeks inside my head are fitful and, like with the evening news, tend to come when something "interesting" happens, for good or for ill. I would like to say that I'm back to normal, but that isn't quite true. I think I might have found a new normal, though. I'll try to let you in on that, too.

Crawling Out

I crashed hard. A thousand little heartaches piled up, one on top of another, until I crumpled under the strain.

It gets harder as time goes on. I know a couple girls who are due the week I was. I'm thrilled for them and happily read their blogs, eager for more news on their growing bellies. It's still a reminder of what I lost, though. I would have been in maternity pants, by now. I would have been feeling little popcorn kicks and hiccups for a couple weeks, already. I would have been gearing up for my 20-week ultrasound. It bothers me that I don't even know if we'd have wanted to find out what we were having. We never got far enough to discuss it. The others are moving on, each new development a beautiful discovery, and I'm right were I was, empty and unchanging. Like a fly trapped in amber I feel lost in time, forever stuck just as I am now with no means of escape. Worst of all, I'm not sure that it's time to break free, yet. I want to climb back up on that horse, show it who's boss and that I control my life, but mine is not the only life that will be affected. As much as I hate it, I have to wait.

Still, I'm grateful for friends and a husband who will literally lift me up and get me going when I'm down. I don't know what I would do without you.

Falling

I've run out of Artemis Fowls (the 7th one's been checked out so I have to wait for it to be returned) and the How to Train Your Dragons are amusing but not engrossing. Books got me through last week, but now I hang at the edge of the pit. Not a deep one, thankfully, but enough to leave me scraped up as I try to climb back out. Hopefully I won't need to. I don't want to tip the balance by saying "...but it's only Friday," either. I can feel it, though. I make up excuses to go to stores, touching, feeling and wanting to buy something--anything!--to fill the void. I leave with an empty cart only because I know deep down that it won't help. Strangely enough, the one place I don't go is the grocery store. I would love to fill bags with apples and cucumbers, mushrooms and the last of the peaches. But I don't. I don't know why. Fresh produce is something I don't mind indulging in. It's healthy as well as being delightfully tasty. It's something the whole family can enjoy, too. So why do I stay away? I'd love to insert some witty and insightful remark here, but I've run out. I feel drained, like I've been running on empty for way too many miles. I need a good cry and a long nap, but don't have the playlist or spare time for either. If you have a moment, a hug and a shoulder will do.

Date Night

Since Jonathan and I don't get very much time together, we've made the every-other-Saturday he gets off a mandatory date night. We have to do something together, though it can expand to cover the rest of the family too. Orville Reddenbacher has some boxes with RedBox codes in them, so BAM! popcorn and movie night. We piled the family onto the couch (minus James, who was tired and is still a bit small for this sort of thing) and popped in Toy Story 3. The kids were so excited. Jumping up and down, excited. Squealing like leaky balloons, excited. Yeah.

I highly recommend watching kids' movies with actual kids. It's a whole new experience. Joseph nestled into my arm, as the tension cranked higher, while Elena screamed in terror and squeaked "Oh, no! Daddy! Oh, no!" Just as things looked bleakest, she sobbed"Turn it off, Daddy! Turn it off!" We tried to reassure her, tell her that the toys would be OK, but honestly, neither of us was that sure. When it was all over, she said, "That was a good movie, but I never want to see it again." We'll be buying it in a few months, anyway. Hopefully she'll have forgiven us by then.

Distraction

Elena's elementary school lets parents and community members check books out from their library. I find that really convenient because I'm at school a lot anyway, and it lets me have the chance to pop in and browse books during a spare moment instead of making a special trip to the public library--not that that's hard, just that I have to wait until 10, instead of a quick scan at 7:30, so there's the whole packing-the-boys-along thing to consider. Anyway, while I was scanning through the school shelves looking for the second How to Train Your Dragon (because I believe in knowing about the books my kid reads) I decided to pick up a copy of Artemis Fowl. I read the whole thing straight through with enough time to run to the public library and grab the next two before picking up Elena. It's that good. It reads like a combination of crime drama and spy novel, which given the title character is a 12-year-old criminal mastermind is absolutely understandable. That was Wednesday, though. I finished the third book last night, and while that was, luckily, a good stopping point, I can't wait to start of the next one. We're heading out to the library's story times in about half an hour so that I can swap out my books while they have fun.

I also cast on for the start of the Christmas Queue, last night, since I'd finished my books by 8:30 but had no car. Elena's up first. When she was little, I fell in love with a style of sock at Gymboree--a lattice pattern up the instep, ribbed top, and a picot/scallop edge. I must have bought these sames socks in a half dozen colors, I loved them so much. I'm attempting to make new ones (in her favorite color, red, of course) but with a bit of a twist. She's not a little girl, anymore, but she's not big either. I want to merge the two into an anklet, still with the lattice, and picot edge, but drop all the ribbing. She doesn't fold her socks down, these days (and they wouldn't stay put id she did), so I think that'll work well. Plus, that's less work for me. Win-win, I say.

Clearing

I've been doing better, the last few days, but it's also the better half of my week. Plus, having gone public, as it were, I don't feel like I have to carry this myself any more. That's incredibly liberating. Just knowing I'm not the only one--not the only one who's been through this and not the only one who knows about me--frees me. I'm not sure how the latter half of the week will go. Wednesday night and Thursday morning are the usual fall-off point, but I'm hoping it won't be so bad.

I'd like to give myself a good challenge, something big to work toward besides my knitting projects and Personal Progress. It should be something that will stretch me, but it should be realistic, too. Maybe, as I'm a pack rat and I'm married to a pack rat (albeit a minimalist pack rat, if that makes any sense), I should be clearing out things from my house. I haven't yet because it's so hard finding a time to do it. Day is no good because Jonathan needs to sleep. Evening is out because I've got too much going on. Night is either the only time I get with my husband, or when I should be sleeping (which might well explain a least a part of why I'm so tired). Still, it really does need to get done. There are plenty of toys that don't get played with, clothes that don't get worn, things that haven't seen the light of day in years that can be somewhere other than cluttering our little apartment. It'll get interesting when I get to my yarn and fabric stashes. I use those! Sort of. Most of the yarn has actual plans for use, with patterns and recipients picked out and everything. Fabric is a little more iffy, but still every bit as useful. And yet they take up space, space that could be used for plenty of things, including a floor to walk on. Sigh...

Progression

The last few nights I've been working on Personal Progress. It's a different program from when I was in young. There are different requirements and different activities to check off. Most of them involve contemplation and journal writing. It's simpler, in that there are fewer things to do, but harder because they either take longer--three weeks seems standard--or require you to dig deep and really think about the things of the gospel. Having goals is good for me, right now. I like having something manageable to tackle. And in the end, I'll have a new medallion to show for my work.

Having dug deep and motivated myself to actually want to do this, I'd like to apologize to my mom for how hard she had to push me to get the first one done on time. I'd also like to thank her for doing it anyway. I can see much better now why the program's there in the first place. I'm doing it this time for the necklace, yes (I want silver to match all my other jewelry), but I'm also doing it for me, for my own growth, and to set an example for the girls. I'm doing the whole thing, too. Mothers and leaders are allowed to finish with only half the requirements, but I'm going to do it all. Maybe it's to make up for what I did to my mom, I don't know.

It's interesting, writing things down. I'd like to save both books for posterity, but I'm sure my kids will be far more interested in this one than the old. It's more personal. Right there in my own handwriting are my thoughts on the Savior's atonement, what I need to do to stay worthy to enter the temple, and what I think it means to be a daughter of God. It's an incredible legacy. If any of you have the opportunity to do the program again, do it. Even if it's your third of fourth time around, there's more to learn and more you can share.

60 Frames per Second

I wrote the first three all in one sitting. Everything seemed to flow out of me, needing only a little structure for it all to fit together. Since they were understandably depressing, I've chosen to focus on brighter things, today.

I've found I notice so many new details in this quiet new world my brain inhabits. So many things have slowed down, and as they glide past I can't help but see colors and smell scents and feel textures that were only a blur in passing, before. I'm not sure why I was so eager to get on with things, be somewhere else, do something different, before. Now I want to savor every last drop of life. I want to catch it in a jar and breathe it in over and over again.

My closest, most readily available sources of comfort are my children. I cherish my walks to school with Elena, even when it means waking a literal hour before dawn. Six is a fantastic age. She can carry a normal conversation, and her perspective on everything is fascinating. We've even started talking about feelings and the quirks of each other's personalities. I like getting those peeks inside her head. She's still affectionate, but not so smothering, anymore. Even better, she lets me show her the same. I can share my love of reading with her, too, and we've gotten to discuss both Harry Potter and How to Train Your Dragon in the last couple months. (By the way--HtTYD, the movie, is nothing like the book but brilliant on its own merits.) I honestly hope the next few years are like this because I really am enjoying it.

I've discovered a hidden well of patience, with Joseph. I let him run in circles and he happily wears himself out. We hadn't been to a park in a while, with all the weirdness of life, but we're venturing out again. He's got a wonderful imagination. He perches his PlayMobil pirate on top of the Sonic kids meal parrot and they fly around. We laughed forever about that one, a pirate on a parrot's shoulder. The pirate also has a couple of pet dragons (four life-size and realistic-looking toy garden lizards) and they have amazing adventures. Joseph tells some really funny stories, too. They don't make much sense but he laughs so hard through them that it doesn't seem to matter. Now that he's got most of his letters down (uppercase, at least--we're working on the others) I feel like I've got a better handle on how to teach him to read. Elena pretty much taught herself, so I'm kind of new at this.

James is both a solace and a frustration. He's one of the snuggliest two-year-olds you'll ever meet and wants to be on or near me most of the day. If he's not in my arms, he's sitting on my lap. If I'm reading a book, he wants to sit next to me. If I'm cooking, he wants to see what's in the pot. I love having him near, and I love hearing him giggle while we play our little games, whether tickles after diaper changes, peek-a-boo, or his odd silly-face game. We give loads of fives and he's started saying "Bye! See you!" and waving when anyone walks toward the door. I think a few of the See Yous might have been Love Yous, but it's hard to tell. The down side to this is when I reach my limit of being touched and get the Mental Itches, or when he's into everything in the kitchen during dinner prep. Jonathan's usually home during those times, though, and I can pull away into my quiet time with a cutting board and sauce pan.

My calling helps, too. I thought I was called because I felt I had so much to share with the girls, but I really do think the timing is because I needed them around me for this. Both they and the other leaders have been a God-send. They force me to socialize instead of sitting quietly in the back of the room the way I would have if I'd stayed in Relief Society.

Finally, I love this time of year. As beautiful and refreshing as Spring is, as riotous as Summer is, or as magical as real Winter can be, I love the way Fall feels like everything is settling down to rest. It mirrors my favorite time of day, late evening, when everything quiets down, curls up with a good story, and watches the sun set. I love the cloudier days, the nip in the air, that slight drizzle that gets things wet but never soaks, and the crunch of leaves underfoot. I love the smell of woodsmoke and cinnimon, roasted pumpkin seeds and hot bread with soup. Best of all, living in Central Texas means that Fall lasts for months. Sometimes, it'll bypass Winter alltogether and keep going all the way to Spring. Those are my favorite years. I wonder what this year will bring.

Bumps in the Road

The hardest part isn't the loss of the pregnancy. The Lord made it abundantly clear that we'd be getting this one back. He's promised me certain things and he's going to deliver. Just not this time. It might not be this year, or this decade, or even in this life. And I'm OK with that. A promise is still a promise. No, the hard part is the loss of being pregnant. It's like being cut off in the middle of a thought, having the station fade out just as you find the song you were hoping for, or (perhaps most accurately) getting laid off. I feel incomplete, hanging in mid-air. There's no climax or denouement to this story.

It's the little things that get me the most. My ice crunching habit showed up right on time at the start of the second trimester, except that I was technically post-partum, by then. It drives me nuts, this compulsion to dip into the ice bucket and fish out chips when I don't have a "reason" to anymore. I was OK with having it all end until my mouse was hovering over the "unsubscribe" button for my Your Pregnancy This Week emails. Clicking meant admitting that it was over, done, and not coming back. I felt the same when I put my small handful of maternity shirts back in their box with all the others. All I could do was stare at it and cry a little. I pine for the missed experiences--Elena's speculations on the sex and number of babies (she tried to convince us I was having twins, at the end); James learning about babies when he's still so small, himself; being pregnant in winter (first time!) and new life with the spring. All our plans that had been thrown so far off are back to where they were--or are they?--but it feels so odd and off-balance, now. That Easter due date feels slightly bitter. Or maybe not. It's so hard to sort things out, and it keeps changing, day to day. I wonder if October will be hard for me, next year. There's no way of telling where my life will be by that time. I take things day by day, and if that doesn't help, minute by minute. It's the only way to get through.

Pieces

The day of our final ultrasound we sat in the car outside our house for such a long time after driving home. I couldn't go back in, couldn't just be Mom and pretend that everything was normal. The kids were so excited for this baby, how could I tell them it was gone? My beautiful visiting teacher hustled my boys away so we could have time alone. Jonathan had been up late with me (remember: works nights, sleeps days) so he immediately crawled into bed. I curled up with him, drained and directionless, and slept most of the day. The previous week had been so intensely spiritual, I'd been absolutely sure something survived. I'd even daydreamed scenarios of telling people about my miracle baby--"I had a miscarriage, but this little one pulled through." No dice. I dragged myself to school to pick up Elena, but I was quiet, subdued, wrapped in sun hat and sunglasses so she couldn't see my red eyes.

It's so easy to hide, to not let others see our pain because we don't want to explain or make excuses. It's especially easy for me, already turned inward by nature. I pull a cloak of solitude around me, unwilling to share because I don't want to hurt any more. This one is too big, though. I need to probe and lay bare this splinter in my soul. If I leave it to its own devices it'll just fester and poison all around it.

Despite how lonely I feel--or perhaps because of it--I crave the society of other people. I need someone to talk to, or just stand next to. After a while, though, it's starts to feel a little... forced. Do they understand? Do I want them to? I don't want to explain it again, but if I don't, well, maybe I should just find somewhere else to be. The spiral downward and crash when I'm alone at night hits me the worst. I don't sleep well, I'm always tired. I've started falling asleep at odd moments, the last few days.

That's not to say that there aren't bright spots. We really have been blessed. This could have been so soul-shattering, but wasn't. Even so, while we may not be broken, there's a lot of bruises. Some of them refuse to come to the surface, too. There's still so far to go.

So Many Changes

I'm going to take a stab at Marin's Blog Posting Thing. I know it's the 3rd and I've already missed my first two shots at posting every day, but it's hard to get my thoughts organized, these days. I've had so many things to say, so many things to share, and then...

Let me start from the beginning. Jonathan got a new job, in July. He works all night long on 12 hour shifts making chips for memory sticks. It's hard, but he sees our kids every afternoon, we get to eat dinner together as a family, he gets Sunday, Monday and Tuesday nights off so we can do family things, and we're finally self-sufficient. About the same time, I got called to the Young Women. He's been beautifully supportive, especially since he's the designated sick-child-watcher because I teach lessons most weeks and he therefore misses more Church than he'd like. Also in that same week, I got pregnant.

If you know me well enough, you know I have a really weird thing with planning my kids. I want them at a certain time, for certain reasons, and the Lord lets me have that, give or take His tweaking to get it just right. This one was unexpected, though. It moved our plans up an entire year. We scrambled to make adjustments, but things were working out pretty well. For the first time, I had healthy cravings--salad! water!--and even started showing at 7 weeks. I'd managed to get nearly everyone called by the time I had to pull out a couple of my favorite maternity tops.

A few of you more clever readers may have noticed my verb tense in that last paragraph. Four days before my first OB visit I started bleeding. The following week saw an ER visit, three doctor's visits, three blood draws, two ultrasounds, and one good long cry. I never did get that OB appointment. I miscarried at 11 weeks. I was due on Easter Sunday.

This is not a cry for help. It's not a Pity Party, either. The Lord has been exceedingly gracious with us, easing the blow as much as He possibly could. The only reason I'm talking about it is that I feel it needs to be talked about. It's not a dark, shameful secret. It's not something to be locked away and never talked about again. It's part of who I am, now. The next month, I'll be looking to share my thoughts as I come to terms with this new state of being.

Sunshine Beyond the Clouds

Even after nine years I have a hard time tearing myself away. It's like time stands still as I watch them fall, down down down, all over again. I'm back to being 21, away from home, away from everything I know. It's hard to not feel helpless. I personally know someone who lost family, that day. It's hard enough to lose someone you're close to. It's worse to watch it live on national television. I don't know how he found his ray of sunlight, but he did. That gives me hope for this world. And where is my sunshine? He's right here. He's two years old, today.


It's not a birthday I would have chosen for him, but I think it's important to remember that the Earth did not stop turning, that Tuesday morning. There is hope in each new baby, the promise of new life and a new generation. I'm doing my best to make sure he's an active force for change, away from fear and hatred, working toward forgiveness and understanding. He is why I continue to live my life the best I can. He and his siblings are my my rays of light.

Budding Out

With Elena back in school, it's just me and the boys, most days. We go to the park and the library. We run errands and shop for groceries. We listen to The Biscuit Brothers and occasionally watch Dinosaur Train. Life is a lot calmer and more predictable, even if it's not the same things every day. With that, James is really starting to show personality, all of a sudden. I know, I know. "He's almost two!" you say. "Hasn't he been showing personality before now?" Well, yes and no. He has, but Elena (and to some extent, Joseph, since she's gets him worked up) has such a loud presence that James tends to become background noise when she's around. In just the last week (meaning since Elena started school) I've noticed James has started repeating people, using intelligible syllables; patting his knees (alternating back and forth!) while listening to The Biscuit Brothers; laughing with Joseph about some game they've made up; dancing along to a song or laughing at a character when we have a kids show or movie on; stealing Mima's wii remotes and swinging them wildly while yelling "Fwee!" and jumping up and down; playing with the cat; and quietly asking for water by grabbing a random cup and putting it in my hand, instead of just screaming indiscriminately. It's almost like he's a whole different person and my wallflower is suddenly the life of the party. This is going to take some getting used to, but I like everything about it.

Wrapping

I somehow missed July. It wasn't the camera. I didn't take very many pictures, anyway. It's just that in about four weeks my life went from stagnant pond to raging river. I feel like I've been thrown around, in and out of eddies and down several short drops. It started in June with a job-training class. It was offered to Jonathan, initially, but I decided to take it instead. Everyone should have a backup plan, in case of disaster, and the class, and then funding, seemed to both fall in my lap in a matter of days. About the same time our Young Women's president moved to Kentucky and my first reaction was to (correctly) figure out who the new president would be, quickly followed by the thought that I would be in there, too. I spent a month rearranging my life for a calling that hadn't been extended yet. The week before it came, Jonathan got a job offer from Spansion that would have him working nights. Now I'm the Beehive Advisor, teaching lessons on everything from modesty to obeying the law of the land to 12 and 13 year-old girls; finishing up my class so I can take my certification test; getting everything together for Elena to start 1st grade; re-evaluating chore responsibilities and housekeeping because my husband isn't available anymore; and making sure that dinner is on the table by 5:30 so we can read scriptures and get Daddy out the door to work by 6:30. I've been through the wringer and am only just now starting to find my balance again. Please be patient with me.

Pirates of the Duck Pond

Yes, I know the party was three weeks ago. My computer annoys me, and that's where I'm going to leave it. Also, there's a ton of pictures here. You have been warned.

I've been wanting to do a pirate party for Joseph for months. I think I'd started pondering such things in February or March. He loves The Pirates Who Don't Do Anything, Peter Pan, Penelope and the Pirates, The Pirates of Penzance (and really, any three-year-old who knows and loves a 19th century operetta ought to be rewarded, somehow) and any sort of pirate themed toy or activity. They use coat hangers as hooks and boxes as ships, fighting monsters or hunting treasure all through the house. How could I not?


We were a bit worried about the weather, which alternately threatened baking heat or torrential downpours, but the big day dawn cool, slightly cloudy, and perfect for a morning in the park.

We had lots of things to do and would be earning pirate gear as we went. First we made parrots from green TP rolls and bright feathers,


and read a story while munching cheddar whales and pretzel squares.


We headed over to Pirate Cove to do battle with a fearsome ship, to earn bandannas. We even raised our foe from it's watery grave so we could sink it again. The geese wandered over as the ship first dropped anchor and watched what we were doing.




Everyone who would stay put got to play Pin The Eyepatch on The Pirate (and earned an eyepatch in return). James had his own patch to play with but was far more interested in everyone else's.


Unfortunately, I have no pictures of the treasure hunt. Jonathan was hiding clues, and I was trying to catch the intrepid band of small pirates. Jack's dad managed to catch some shots, so maybe I'll be able to prevail upon then, once they've unpacked their things in KY. In any case, we drew up picture clues for the kids to follow all around the park, leading them to a great red X that had a "treasure box" full of popsicles beneath it.

After eating popsicles and watching the ducks for a few minutes, we headed back to harbor for a pinata, made by Jonathan. Joseph has made a complete 180, in regards to pinatas, in the last year, from a sort of shy fear to total enthusiasm. All the kids had a great time laying into it, getting in some seriously good whacks. Daddy may have done his work a little too well, though, and he had the honor of finalizing the destruction his work.






Finally, it was cake time. I know, there's been a lot of ships, but you have to admit it's a cool shape. We simply could not get the candles to light, though, because the breeze was just a bit too brisk.



The cloud cover broke up as we were wrapping things up, and we simply couldn't clean up fast enough in an effort to beat the start of the heat. Joseph had so much fun with his friends, and while we wish more of his cousins could have made it we know that it's tough when we're all scattered. Happy birthday, Joseph!

Happy Birthday, Joseph!

On the evening of Thursday, June 1st 2006 we went to HEB to get gummy bears. Why? Because I was 9 months pregnant and I really wanted gummy bears. Our checker saw the giant belly and asked us when I was due. I smiled and said we were kicking him out in the morning. I can not even express to you how glad I was to be having that pregnancy come to a close. After a brush with pre-term labor and the subsequent nervous freak-outs I'd been to the hospital several times already and I was ready to just be done. The next afternoon, I held my eldest son in my arms, my 20-month-old daughter looking on in awe. The two have been best buds ever since. She changed his diapers, "read" him stories, and fetched him blankets and toys. As he got older, they started to share adventures. Today they're nearly inseparable, but I've noticed some interesting differences. While Elena flits from one activity to another, Joseph will happily play Legos, or look at books, or smash play dough for hours on end. My mom discovered that he has a habit of sorting things by size or shape, then lining them up. Joseph's also much better at remembering manners, saying please and thank you with only infrequent reminders. And now here he is, four years old and starting to write his name. He's got such intensity and concentration in whatever he does, whether it's jumping off walls or learning ABCs. This boy is such a wonder to me.

I have pictures of our little family celebration, but they're all sideways. I would turn them, but that would involve putting them on this computer, which I refuse to do until it acts the way I want it to. So, sideways they will will stay.

Green

I had been hoping to post pictures of field day but Elena spent the better part of last week at home with a series of fevers and general yuckiness. In fact, she managed to miss all (and only, poor girl) the days that there was something cool going on at school. On Tuesday she missed awards and her fever didn't go down until late that night so she had to miss field day on Wednesday, too. She went back to school Thursday but woke up crying with a 102 degree fever and the dry heaves at 4am on Friday and had to miss the bounce houses. Sigh...

Anyway, we do still have interesting stuff to share. We found a caterpillar in the back yard and Elena decided she wanted to watch it turn into a butterfly. I decided this would be OK and would nicely follow up their recent science unit about butterfly life cycles. So this is her caterpillar. She named it Green.


I dug out my old fish tank and Jonathan found it some sticks and leaves to hang out on, and we've had a really fun time watching it eat. It tried privet and elm and tomato but seemed to prefer basil. It's probably going to be an ugly brown moth but we're OK with that. All the excitement has been very tiring, though, and she's taken a ton of naps, this week. She even fell asleep while draped over the exercise ball.

Green is currently curled up in a tomato leaf, wrapped in a silky little cocoon. I need to remember to take more pictures.

Out With the Boys

Joseph got to go on his first camping trip, last weekend. It was pretty rainy, as they set out, but they decided to brave the storms (that were clearing) and be men anyway. Well, Joseph decided and Daddy went along for the ride.


We have no pictures of Joseph cooking hot dogs "on a stick with fire" because it was raining and Jonathan didn't want to ruin the camera, but I'm told that they were a big hit. S'mores? Not so much. He was all excited about the idea of getting fire on marshmallows, but wasn't too enamored of the taste. Which, honestly, was fine by Daddy because Daddy didn't want to be cleaning marshmallow off of everything.

Saturday morning turned out to be bright and beautiful. While hiking the trail, Joseph stopped to look at everything. "Loot! A cadderpiller!" "Loot! A fowler!" "Loot! A rot!" "Loot! A thin'!" He was also fascinated by the moths in the restrooms, though he kept calling them "mosses."



Daddy thought that they were just going to have a short wade, since the river was cold with rainwater, but Joseph had a grand time digging in the sand and "swimming" in the shallows.



Everyone came home in good spirits, though all of their gear was totally soaked--the rain fly didn't get found until the morning, long after the thunderstorm rolled through and drenched the tent. Joseph had somehow slept through the whole thing. They caught up to me, Elena and James at the kids' Aunt Sherry's graduation party (congratulations on your Master's!) and we set the tent back up in the living room to air out. James thought this was the awesomest thing ever and tried to convince Daddy that he was big enough to go camping, too.

Flashback

Our old computer died right before Conference and the new one came with Windows. We decided to try it out, having been using Linux for the last 8? 9? years, and while it is useful for many things (mostly watching Netflix) it's a pain to use because I can't find anything. I'm also not too sure I want to put my pictures on here and because of that all the pictures I've taken in the last month and a half are still firmly on the camera card. I've decided to bypass Windows, though, and just stick them straight on here because I'm tired of not being able to post stuff.

~Easter~

We pulled out the colors and dippers and aprons for egg dying, but this year we got to try out a cool kit for putting metallic foil on your eggs. It was super sticky but the kids had a great time. The eggs turned out really pretty, too. (As a note of warning, when peeling the eggs, afterward, you have to be sure to rinse everything, including your hands, or you'll end up eating foil.)

James did a great job finding eggs, he just didn't want any. We managed to convince him to put the first one in his bucket, but he'd get upset if you tried to give him any more.


The bigger kids were expert egg hunters, though, and had a great time looking around for new additions to their growing hoards.


As a side-note, I am amazed by how small my tomato plants are in this picture. They've reached jungle proportions, by now.

~Playing with Doorknobs~

I tried to get one with his hand on the knob, but he was being too sneaky to get caught with photographic evidence.

~The End of Kindergarten~

(round one)

The school year is winding down. Elena has made a ton of friends, discovered that boys can be really weird, become one of the librarian's best customers, fallen in love with Magic Treehouse books, rocked the Read-a-Thon with 1204 pages in just 12 days, become a Marathon Kids finisher, studied the anatomy and life cycles of ladybugs and butterflies, learned some basic Spanish, and figured out multiplication. She's getting ready for next week's field day(s), right now, so be on the lookout for more on that.

~Look, Ma! No Fingers!~

There's no picture here because, well, there's nothing to see. And that makes me very happy, indeed. About a month ago, we realized that we hadn't seen Joseph sucking his fingers in a while. He wasn't nodding off with fingers in his mouth, he wasn't sucking them at random moments in the day, and he wasn't using them to feel better after some injury or disappointment. Even better, the skin had dried up and wasn't peeling off, anymore. Hooray!

Ode to a Harvest Gold Ice Tray

My parents bought that old GE fridge long before I entered the picture. It had seen better days by the time I realized its existence, but it still had years to go. It was the fridge of my childhood, the magic repository of popsicles and watermelon. I remember the summer that I ate nothing but carrots, diving into the crisper for my preferred snack over and over. Time went by, a great parade of leftovers and milk jugs, and the old fridge finally breathed its last gasp of freon. We kept the ice trays, though, even though the new fridge had an ice maker. I gave one of those to my boyfriend, when he got his first apartment, and it become a source of mild amusement during the early days our marriage. It wasn't a fashionable color by a long shot and didn't match anything in the house, but it did its job with a minimum of fuss. Each of my pregnancies produced massive cravings for ice and that old ice tray saw plenty of action, cranking out ice cubes by the (double) dozen. A year or two ago, though, we noticed a crack that had started to develop down the center spine. The crack has grown over time, each batch of ice leaving it more vulnerable to the damage wrought from the twist needed to free its load. The crack has now traveled down into one of the cups and the tray is starting to leak. I'm sorry, good tray, but your life is now spent. We will miss you and I'm sure your replacements won't last a fraction of the years you put in.

Onward

Nothing seriously exciting has happened, 'round these parts, but life does continue onward with it's little ups and downs. Here's a sampler of what we've had going on.

Joseph took the over-sized basketball jersey out of his PJ cubby and used it to make what he calls "mine supertape." The supercape helps him fly, apparently, so there's been much jumping off of chairs and the couch. He has also worn said supercape to the dinner table. Twice. Daddy giggles when he does this.

Elena, in a effort to prove she's ready for Harry Potter, picked up Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. She says it's a very silly book. She's also trying to get through Aterix and Obelix and the Normans, but it's been slow going because she keeps asking us to explain the puns.

I vacuumed my PC's processor fan, today. That's a first for me. It's working better now, though, and we'll give it a few more days before deciding if greater measures need to be taken before Conference, this weekend. The mirowave, however, isn't looking any better. The broccoli that whirred away for nearly 15 minutes, in total, and yet was still frozen (!) seems to indicate that I'll have a shopping trip in the somewhat-near future.

We got to ride the MetroRail, last Monday. Honestly, the most stressful part of the whole outing was keeping James under control. That boy has sooooo much energy and prefers to expend it by either a) climbing stuff, or b) running in circles, neither of which is recommended on a crowded commuter train. Other than the Squid-Child, who can wriggle and contort in the most amazing ways when he wants to get loose, our ride was great. People were polite and cheerful, the train was smooth and quiet, the bigger kids had paper pop-up toy versions of MetroRail trains, and the stations were well-designed for efficiency (if not always comfort).

Spring break was a Grand Success with three batches of cookies (and a batch of brownies), the school's playground available during the middle of the day, green pancakes for St. Patrick's, a whole afternoon at Mueller Lake Park, and a pile of movies from the library.

I knit two more pairs of socks, one for Elena and one for James. I've got enough yarn left on both balls for at least another two pair, though one would have to be pretty small.

We finally got to watch UP with the kids. We let them stay up late (since it was Spring Break and all) and it was so much fun watching them watch the movie. They were happy, sad, scared and excited in all the right places. Joseph would get nervous when the dogs came on and even cuddled up next to Jonathan when things got a bit intense.

I'm sure there's more but I can't think of what, right now. I'll try to be back here soon.

Equipment Failure and Injury...

...or so the official results will read.

The main portion was done in only a day and a half. At that point I knew that the amount of yarn I had was not going to cut it. So I went to get some more. Neither the color I had nor the color I wanted was available at any of the 3? 4? stores I went to, so I got a slightly different color and launched into the edging. But I decided to do it the hard way. And forgot that it takes two rows of edging to bind of each of the 224 stitches around the edge. Sigh... While slogging my way through that, Joseph got sick. It was just a fever but one night of ruined sleep can be disastrous to an athlete. Some tree decided to drop all it's pollen on me, too. Three days of vicious sneezing has left my throat raw and prone to breathless coughing bouts. To cap it off, Elena got sent home from school with a fever, on Friday. So, having made it a bare 1/8 of the way around, I've now realized that the original amount of yarn isn't going to cut it, even with the secondary augmentation. As I sit here listening to Canadian rockers belt it out en francais I'm going to have to call this year a bust. I hope London will be better planned, on my part.

Frozen Beauty

The last time there was snow in the forecast, we got no more than a handful of pathetic, hard pellets. I knew it was going to be cold, today, and even though Elena and I walked through rain and sleet on the way to school I didn't really expect anything interesting. Boy was I wrong.


Huge fat flakes whirled around us like startled flocks of icy doves, dropping feather-soft down that melted on our cheeks. Joseph and I tried to catch some on our tongues while James loved feeling the crunch of snow under his shoes.


The simplest things became magical--a gap in the fence became a portal to an untouched world, bright green leaves practically glowed under a dusting of white.


We'd slip back inside for warm apple cider when our hands were red and aching from the cold, but James would cry and run to the door, begging for more.


Elena's class got to go out three times and she loved the snowball fights with her friends.


When Jonathan finished work he helped Elena and Joseph gather snow from all the cars to use in their snowman. It doesn't look all that happy, but that might be because it knows tomorrow is going to be warmer.


It's been a while since I've laughed so much at such small things. It's been beautiful.

A Challenge

A challenge has been laid down and I have decided to take it up. I might be insane, but I really hope not. I will start a knitting project during the Opening Ceremony of the Olympics, and finish it by the time the torch goes out.

Every project I start (minus the innumerable bibs and baby socks) seems to take at least a month to finish, though. This might be because I am not a monogamous knitter and tend to flit between projects like butterflies around a honeysuckle bush, but I refuse to let that stop me here. This is the nature of my personal challenge, after all. So, for the next two weeks I will pour my energy into a specific project, a gift for a good friend. If I manage to finish on time, I'll get my very own gold medal, and the knowledge that, for once, I got it done way ahead of time instead of looking through wrapping paper with one hand and running a hairdryer over the still-slightly-damp just-washed freshly-cast-off project with the other. Let the games begin.

The Generation Gap Rears its Head

Joseph is running around the house with one of my knee-highs over his head, right now. Not two minutes ago I rolled my eyes, heaved a sigh and asked "Joseph, why do you have one of my stockings on your head?" He looked at me like I was utterly insane and said "No it isn't a stocking." We then stared at each other, me insisting that it's thin, goes to my knee and covers my foot, while Joseph countered that what I was absolutely wrong and just being silly. At this point, Jonathan whispered in my ear, "Stockings have pictures on them and candy inside." Oh. my. dear. heavens. I'd forgotten that he's only three and had only one reason to know the word stocking.

Jonathan is currently still trying to convince him that they can be the same thing. I don't think it's working.

The Post I meant to Write Two Weeks Ago

It's a new year and Joseph is 3 so that means... SUNBEAMS! He's been geared up for weeks, talking about Primary and all the things he gets to do in there. The day before he officially started there was a Primary PJ Party where all the kids got to meet their new teacher(s), put stickers on a prayer rock and color a journal. He had so much fun getting to do things with the big kids!


At church, the next day, we talked up Sunbeams and how Sunbeams do Big Kid Stuff and always use the potty and get to sit in Primary. We'd been doing this for days (weeks, really) to get him ready. As soon as the last prayer was said in the chapel he was off like a shot and halfway down the hall toward nursery, as usual. "Hey Joseph! Sunbeams are over here, in Primary! You don't go to nursery anymore!" This was Not a Good Thing, apparently. He didn't want to go in to the Primary room. "Come here, babe. I'll sit with you." So Mommy sat in one of the little seats on the front row while we waited for his teacher. "Look! There's your teacher--say hello. And there's Jack. Jack's in Sunbeams, too, just like you. Do want to go sit by Jack? Sure you can go sit by Jack! I'll see you later, sweetheart."

Meanwhile, Mr. Wiggle-pants (aka James) wanted to go wandering up and down the pews during Sunday School. After spending several fruitless minutes wrestling him, I decided it wasn't worth the effort and took him to consult the nursery leader. "16 months? He's playing just fine--go back to class, Mom" Score! (Really, he's only spent 4 months not in the nursery, so I knew he'd pick it back up pretty fast.)

After church, Elena's teacher dropped her off in Relief Society, then I got James and she got Joseph and we all headed to choir. Joseph showed me his hat that he colored and when I asked what he did in Sunbeams he shouted "I go potty!" Anything else? "Umm... We sing songs."

So, I guess hearing that Sunbeams use the potty was the last push that he needed to be declared Potty Trained. I haven't had to wash out underpants in a month or more and the number of wet pants dropped drastically in the last two weeks of December. I guess I shouldn't be too surprised. After all, he started wearing undies because you have to use the potty to go camping with Daddy. Now he keeps them dry so he can go to Primary.

Thoughts on Socks

A friend of mine likes to post things that catch her eye. They may be awesome cookie cutters, a retro-styled dress, or funky boots, but they all point to that certain something that only she has. She knows she's probably never going to buy them, but that's OK because it's not about getting them--it's about finding them.

Here's mine.

I have this thing with socks. I like short socks. I mean, why spend money (or time and effort knitting) for the leg of a sock when it's the bottom that wears out so fast? Even with my red lace stockings I can only stand to wear them to church because I don't want the sole to wear out. And yet, if I'm going to go to the effort to knit socks, I want them to get worn out because that means they're getting worn. There's no greater compliment than that. So what's a girl to do? Either figure out how to re-sole the tall ones (that's part of what taking me so long, Mom) or only make short ones.

Drool... Delicate lace on a cute, feminine anklet. I especially love the ballet/Mary Jane pair. And what sassy colors, too! I don't think I would have picked them, myself, but they work, you know? I wonder if there's enough in each ball to get a pair for me and Elena...