Free Range Family

Stockholm.

2011-07-10T10:22:00.002-05:00

So, here I am in Stockholm, Sweden. Here are a few of our more memorable moments (so far): (By the way, I am using a Swedish keyboard and stuff just isn't where it ought to be. So pardon any ö or ä!)

Poland-- We drove through on Corpus Christi Day, which is a Catholic holiday (which is the same as a huge national holiday in Poland.) There were parades being set up in all of the small towns, with banners and pennants and saints' pictures with candles and tree boughs. We felt like the whole parade when we would whizz through a small town in our 12 passenger behemoth.

Lithuania-- On the way to Vilnius, we saw several old farmers working their fields with horse-drawn wagons. We wandered around the old town and saw a couple of knights (actually military guys, but ACTUALLY wearing shining armor.) The young ladies posed for a picture, of course.

Latvia-- We camped by the Baltic Sea. The kids lost no time getting in swimsuits and jumping in the water. They were frozen by the time we pried them out, but ready for more. Also, the most powdery sand I've ever felt. I ran on the sand and felt awesome. For about 100 yards.

Estonia-- We wandered around Old Town Tallin until late at night. The nights were getting longer the farther north we went. A group of breakdancers on the town square fascinated Brigham so much that he had to go join them. He broke out some of his sweet moves and got a huge round of applause. (I'll post video when I have a chance. It was hilarious!)

Finland-- We camped in Finland for a couple of nights, and stayed at a cabin at the Arctic Circle for another few. Favorite quotes:

Briellen (at the lake by where we were camping. Incidentally, and not related, we couldn't drink the water there.) "Daddy said I could just tinkle in the lake. So I did. Five times!"

Late at night at the Arctic Circle, Vilate put her arms around my neck, and said in the saddest, weariest voice, "The sun is broken."

Sweden (the first time) Lovely, etc. Delicious cookies.

Norway-- beautiful scenery. Gnats. Biting gnats. We looked like we had the measles. Especially Vilate, who had an especially bad reaction to the gnat bites. No benadryl, either. Norway is also outrageously expensive. We're talking $20 Happy Meals and $40 pizzas. Ouch.

Sweden (the second time)-- still lovely. Still here!

We have a few more days before Denmark and the last part of our trip. So far we have only lost or worn through four pairs of shoes and collectively outgrown three dresses. Not bad!

Checking in from the top of the world

2011-07-04T15:58:00.002-05:00

We've been up here at the Arctic Circle (Rovaniemi, Finland) for the weekend and have really enjoyed it. We spent most of the day visiting Santa Claus (and buying his stuff. cough, cough.) Time can really sneak up on you here during the "white nights" of summer. It's impossible to have any sense of time when the sun is always up and it's always light outside.

A few fun things: Ammon loves salmon. He will shovel in a whole steak and yell for more. Alan bought some fresh-caught fried whitefish fingerlings for everyone to try this morning. All of the fish-haters booed and made snide remarks, while Vilate kept asking for "one more." She ate the whole lot of them, heads and all. It was impressive!

Sweden tomorrow . . .

The North Pole. Pooh Found it.

2011-06-21T23:01:00.003-05:00

When I was young , whenever my family left for a long trip, we had a tradition of waking up at an unearthly hour (3:00 am? 4:00 am?) to get a good start on the day. For us kids, this mostly included stumbling out to the car in our pajamas with as little actual disturbed sleep as possible. Luckily for me, my children must have it in their bones--five of them were up (and three dressed) by 5:00 am. We're not leaving until 8:00 am, but I already have a grrrrreat start on the day. Thanks guys! (Seriously. I was able to throw in the last load of laundry, call my family, and make the oatmeal cookies that I didn't have time for yesterday. There are so many more hours in the day to do stuff with when you don't use any of that time sleeping. Awesome!)

So, we're off to the Arctic Circle (not the one with milkshakes, but if you happen to live close to one of those, have a milkshake for me. And maybe a hamburger and curly fries, too. Go crazy! But keep the calories for yourself.) Our internet connection will be spotty, so blogging will be random (what, MORE random?) but if there are any great pictures and/or stories (and you know there will be), I'll try to post.

(Also, for all of you house burglars who read my blog in anticipation of knowing when we are out in order to rob us us while we're gone, our landlord is going to be here the WHOLE TIME we're gone doing landlord-y things and making our house even better. And he's a tough man to tangle with. So do not even THINK of robbing our house.)

Primary

2011-06-06T15:07:00.004-05:00

I had the chance to make a card for a family who is leaving (an incredible family, who we will miss dearly) and so I thought I would share a piece of it with y'all. (In case you are wondering about my card-making skills, I used only ink. No glues of any kinds, which always cause weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth as wrong things are glued to wrong things and smeared on other wrong things.) Anyway, I thought this little portrait of our primary with fingerprints was kind of fun.

Silence is Sticky

2011-05-29T13:56:00.004-05:00

There's a certain kind of silence that begins as enjoyable and becomes . . . ominous. And when you go to check on the silence, your bare feet step in something sticky. And Choose-Your-Own-Adventure time starts. Do you a) start looking for the source of the stickiness (go to page 56), b) keep looking for the Silent Ones (go to page 13), or c) decide that you don't really want to know about the Stickiness or the Silence, and go downstairs and let the adventure come to you (go to page 97)?

Obviously, you use the free gift of time to do chores (yay!) that you've been putting off--and when you're making the guest bed, you find both the Sticky Stuff--(a licked-clean can of sweetened condensed milk) and the Silent, Sticky Ones. You win!

Also, do you ever find that your children's little utterances are layered with nuance and deep meaning? For example, when your child states (with elegant simplicity), "I learned to turn the key in the lock today!" and you murmur, "um-hmm, good for you!" You are missing the layers and layers of meaning in that little phrase, a fact that becomes overwhelmingly obvious when you realize that this same lovely child is wearing your antique hat from your {locked} bedroom, carrying around your purse, and making purchases on the Internet.

Sweet Nothings

2011-05-02T14:05:00.001-05:00

My little white-haired hurricane was sitting on my lap, giving me a funny-faced smile. Looking at her, I couldn't help doing a little (bad) ventriloquism. "I'm a little gnome," said I. She looked at me with her big blue eyes, and very sweetly and seriously broke into song (a la Michael McLean), "You're not a gnome." (Sing it. It's much funnier that way!)

Another young lady had an interesting talk with her dad about trees. He was talking about sin or bad habits or something like that and she was . . . not. He compared sin to a seed (like she had just planted in the garden) and how easy it is to pull out the seedlings when they were young. "Imagine you had planted a tree," said my good husband (and this of course, is where the conversation went terribly wrong.) "Wouldn't it be easier to pull it out when it was young and new?"
"WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO UPROOT A TREE? Trees are GOOD!"
"Wait--I understand!" said the savant, "We should plant the seed in our hearts and keep it there. Because seeds grow trees and trees are GOOD."
Seeing that they were at cross-purposes, my husband retreated from his analogy and no seeds of any kind were planted at this time.

Kristin's Laws of Order:

1. Bedrooms must be picked up before everyone goes to sleep. If everything is not picked up, someone will get sick during the night and vomit over EVERY LAST THING on the floor.

2. If you assign someone to clean the living room, the only thing that they will be certain to move is the book that you left on the couch. You may never see it again.

Notes from Sunday

2011-04-18T00:40:00.002-05:00

I have been attending sacrament meeting all of my life, but it wasn't until I came to Prague that I realized I have been taking a few things for granted. For example: the ability to listen to the speakers with one ear and still keep my children (somewhat) in line. We do have the option of using headsets, where everything is translated into English. However, I have found them very impractical--either someone sitting on my lap is ripping the earphones off, I drop them when gathering a small person out of the next row, or while listening raptly, I miss the airplane-throwing going on next to me. In other words--a distinct lack of reverence ensues in our general vicinity.

So, for the last several months I have gone without headphones. I catch what little I can (hoping that I will later get a general summary from my husband.) And something marvelous happened yesterday. I UNDERSTOOD the sacrament prayer. And I UNDERSTOOD one of the talks! (It was the talk when I WASN'T holding Vilate. But I even understood a good portion of that one!) It was a small, wonderful miracle. Happy day!

"This will pretty much make your wildest dreams come true."

2011-04-10T13:40:00.001-05:00

Napoleon Dynamite goes on a mission. Frickin' awesome.

Two brothers

2011-03-31T05:05:00.003-05:00

Two brothers. One date. One born--one died.

To the one who lives, God bless you. Your steadfastness in pressing forward, engaging in a good work is an inspiration. You have in your life: badgered me, annoyed me, praised me, allowed me to wear your t-shirts (a great privilege, I know), pushed my buttons, and tried to make me into a better person (etcetera, etcetera, and so forth). In watching you, I have seen what it is to be never-wavering, to be patient, and to persevere despite overwhelming odds. I love you more than I can possibly express.

To the one who died, God bless us all. The hole left in our hearts and lives through your absence, though softened by time, is a reminder that this life is short, and we are all in the hands of the Master. It is a reminder that Jesus Christ is a master craftsman who specializes in mending broken hearts. It is a reminder that because of and through His atonement, all good things are possible. Like one day, putting our arms around each other again. I miss you, but I am grateful for the sometimes still-sharp edges of the hole you left. It makes me remember what is important and what is not. I love you, little brother.

2011-02-23T14:12:00.002-06:00

We shared dinner with the missionaries today (pork carnitas and Mexican rice, in case you were wondering. Delicious? So I'm told. I spent most of dinner feeding the three-month old, so I don't know from personal experience.)

One of the missionaries in a moment of "fun" called me Mom. It's official. I'm old.

Right Brain/Left Brain Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots Edition

2011-01-10T01:35:00.002-06:00

My right brain and my left brain are at war. Ms. Right Brain loves to create things, to paint and draw and get crazy. Ms. Left Brain totally supports that, but wants to Make a Plan, and have a Purpose and a Time Limit. Since Ms. Left Brain has all the verbal gifts of the pair, she can go off for a while on those things. And she carries a clipboard and likes to check everything off. It's probably inevitable, but most of the time Ms. Right Brain just gets bored and leaves. And then what?

Note to self: have Ms. Left Brain make a list and go buy art supplies. And then invite her to take a nap.

Why not . . .

2010-11-30T13:13:00.003-06:00

put toy cars in the microwave?

push the couch up to the bookcase in a dastardly plot to steal the Hamster?

dump out the dual purpose stool/garbage cans in order to open any door handle that isn't quite reachable?

cover the baby's head with green I-foam?

Hurricane Vilate and I hold hands a lot these days, since she goes everywhere that I go. It's sweet to be able to hold hands and do things together. And it's safer for the baby if Vilate never leaves my sight. But I think she's on to me . . .

A Few More Details

2010-11-21T02:34:00.005-06:00

Star date, March 2010: I visit Prague with my husband, a romantic trip with just the two of us (and the currently non-hurricane Vilate). It's idyllic. I eat something called cabbage with three meats at a restaurant (note: I do not recommend this.) and begin to feel like my insides are being turned inside out. I become intimately familiar with every public WC in Prague center. After three days of this, my nausea begins to have a familiar feel to it. I am in denial.

Star date, May 2010: We cruise from New York to Southampton. Pregnant people are not supposed to cruise without a note from their doctors. I have no such note, since my insurance has conspired against me. I could only see a doctor in the DC region, but I haven't been there since March. The nausea remains unconfirmed as anything specific, and I am happy to leave it that way for the present. There are too many other things to stress about.

Star date, June 2010: What do you know, we ARE pregnant! 17 weeks--and it's a boy! This news, for some reason, is very poignant to me.

Star date, September 2010: I become an enormous slug-like creature. Walking is difficult, since my hips are all out of joint. The only place I can comfortably move around is in the pool.

Star date, October 2010: I am enormous. The size of my stomach makes my rear end look small. Which it's not.

Star date, November 14 2010: I am resigned to being overdue by two weeks, although my due date is three days in the future. I wake up in the middle of the night with extreme heartburn and nausea, and realize that my underwear are mysteriously wet. I alert my husband, and we both go back to sleep. When I get out of bed at a decent time, water gushes all over the floor. I shower, wash my hair, finish packing, and we take the kids to church where they can participate in the primary program and meet up with their assigned families.

The branch president gives us a ride to the hospital in his Mercedes. I nicely arrange my towel on the front seat, and pray not to make a mess. At the hospital, everyone speaks Czech, so they all speak to my husband (slugs don't speak Czech) and after I am monitored (in a room with several other women, who are all dressed in skimpy long t-shirts) I am put in my own room. The contractions still haven't really started, but they're coming . . .

I note that all of the uniforms for the hospital are thin white cotton. I am not sure whether or not the dark thong that everyone seems to be wearing is part of the uniform or not.

I take a long shower, and now the contractions have started. I use some Hypnobabies techniques to get myself under control, but I have a charlie horse of some sort in the bottom right-hand part of my uterus. This is not fun.

I finally get a light epidural (I can still feel the charlie horse), take a short nap, and then it's time to push. The baby comes out with his hand over his face, screaming and hollering. His shoulders are stuck, and his feet are running back and forth under my skin. I push again, Alan cuts the cord, and at some point the newborn grabs the scissors, and we have to take them away.

He is measured metrically, but I'll translate: 8 lbs, 14 oz; 20 inches long.

His name is Ammon Matthias. He has a dimple, and I have caught a hint of a mischievous little smile that promises interesting things for the future. He is absolutely precious.

What I did last weekend . . .

2010-11-19T06:59:00.002-06:00

There is too much. Let me sum up.

2010-09-01T10:45:00.002-05:00

Westley: Who are you? Are we enemies? Why am I on this wall? Where is Buttercup?
Inigo Montoya: Let me 'splain.
[pause]
Inigo Montoya: No, there is too much. Let me sum up. Buttercup is marry' Humperdinck in a little less than half an hour. So all we have to do is get in, break up the wedding, steal the princess, make our escape... after I kill Count Rugen.
Westley: That doesn't leave much time for dilly-dallying.

So:

1. From Kirtland, Ohio we went to New York. We ate hot dogs, saw the Statue of Liberty, and rode in the Ferris Wheel at Toys R Us. I did not see my aunt--which I regret deeply.

2. We cruised from New York to Southampton. No one fell off the boat and drowned. We did empty our supply of Children's Tylenol as everyone took turns with a mysterious fever. I wore two formal dresses and two different pairs of formal shoes. The black ones hurt--the brown ones looked fabulous. (Darn Ann Klein!)

3. From Southampton to London to Prague. A two-hour plane ride. In which we are convinced that the cruise was not a luxury. (You know what's fun? To be in the only row of seats on the plane where everyone is cheering for the take-off. The enthusiasm and excitement just put a smile on your face. It's just when all that enthusiasm and greased lightning-speed start trying to explore the rest of the plane . . .)

4. Prague. In which we buy a $250 lamp from the Marriott, (In all fairness, they provided the pens and left them out in an accessible place), move into our home, and attempt shopping for eight. On public transportation.

5. More Prague. In which I discover the beauty of Ordering Groceries Online, and my children discover the fun water fountain in the bathroom. (Who knew a bidet could be so versatile?)

6. Adjustments, discovery, myriads of small trips, and lots of swimming. (It's nice to have a pool. There, there, little luxury . . .)

7. A trip to Kyiv, Ukraine. Good times. (Did you know that nine people can fit in a small sedan taxi if most of them are quite small? Did you know a taxi driver's face could freeze in the exact same expression your grandma warned you about?)

8. And school starts. The three oldest started at Czech school today. After all of my anxiety and worry, it was amazingly restful and peaceful to play with the three little ones and read stories.

And maybe, eventually, there will be more detail. Let me know if there's anything you are particularly interested in knowing more about (Czech hospitals for example, don't seem to have the same hygienic or professional dress standards as US hospitals. That might be an interesting story . . .)

Adventures Part 3: Easterly

2010-06-23T09:13:00.004-05:00

Maybe you have been to/through Vernal, Utah, and its wonderful promises of Dinosaurland and tabernacle-turned-temple—but I had never found a reason to meander that way before. It’s a beautiful little town (although we hit more snow on the way there, of course), but the drive out of town toward Wyoming is probably one of the prettiest I have seen. We stopped at a lookout that promised dinosaur footprints, and discovered that we were there during the wrong season—the reservoir was too high during the late spring. The stop wasn’t wasted however—everyone clambered out of the car and went for a hike in some tempting sand and rocks. (Meanwhile I kept reminding myself that rattlesnakes are cold-blooded, and so if we met any, they would be slow.)

In Wyoming we met with the obligatory blizzard (it’s part of the Wyoming welcome packet. Here’s your room key, a map of the town, and a blizzard. Enjoy!) and accompanying freeway closures. We soldiered on to Nebraska with ice frozen on our windshield wipers and radio antennae, and made it to Winter Quarters, one of the highlights of our trip. Winter Quarters was the stopping place for the Latter-Day Saints on their migration west from Nauvoo to Salt Lake City. Although they knew they would only be there for a short season, they built homes (mostly rude log cabins and soddies) and planted crops. The trek from Nauvoo had been one long mud puddle, and the people were exhausted. In the Visitors’ Center, the children had the chance to fill toy wagons with small blocks that represented flour, beans, and other essentials. They had the chance to dress up as pioneers and to push and pull a handcart. Excellent fun.

After a walk around the temple, we had a sobering walk through the adjacent cemetery. Our oldest was particularly struck by a monument that listed all of those who had died at Winter Quarters. There were several infants on the list—many who had not lived for more than a few days. There was a sacred feeling in that place, as though it had been sanctified by the sacrifice and devotion of a people who loved and trusted in Christ above all.

And from there . . .

Adventures Part 2: on to Utah

2010-06-22T05:14:00.005-05:00

(This is part 2 of a very long series of posts. Part 1. Part 0.)

We crossed the mountain pass that divides Western and Eastern Washington and entered a different world. Western Washington is wet and green, and you sometimes get the feeling that the vine maples and other creeping greenery are engaged in a guerilla war to wipe out all signs of civilization. Eastern Washington is made of open sky and rolling hills, and sunshine—a nice escape from the constant drizzle (Washingtonians have as many names for rain as Eskimos have for snow. {OK, as a linguist, I know that the Eskimo-names for snow thing isn’t entirely accurate, but the point remains!}) The freeway through Oregon includes the Blue Mountains, which curve and descend at a terrifying rate, (unless you choose to sleep through that part of the trip while your brother drives. Wise). The freeway also has my favorite rest stop of all time—it’s named Deadman’s Pass. Encouraging, né? Idaho was beautiful—a perfect sunset over the Snake River gave the whole state a golden glow. (I have to say, ANY sunshine at this point of the trip was appreciated.)

We took a little detour through some unexpected parts of Idaho (which are not so charming in the middle of the night. Not uncharming, either. Just dark.) and explored a new route to Utah. Once there, we found more grandparents, more cousins, more aunts and uncles—more romping, more love. And although I could say a lot about Utah (sleepovers, more snow—was it following us?, adored baby cousins, homemade bread in batches of 16 loaves, a phenomenal geode hunt, Sarai getting a book signed by her hero, cinnamon bears, endless good times) the crucial thing was the sense of family and the feeling of belonging. We don’t attend family reunions often, and our kids really miss out on having cousins around, but they have two sets of grandparents and endless aunts and uncles who have made a place in their hearts that my children call home.

And from there . . .

Adventures Part 1: Washington

2010-06-21T12:11:00.005-05:00

There is no better way to start a two-year European adventure than a farewell tour of the purple mountains majesty and the for-spacious plains. We started off in Washington, where we breathed in the salty ocean air in Seattle and crossed over the mighty Columbia (roll on). Our scenic plans were thwarted by rain, snow, and seasonal roads that were still closed, but many magical moments were spent on the farm, running through meadows, hiking cow trails in the woods, and destroying Grandma’s flowerbeds. The Old House, repository of who-knows-what, both repelled (me) and attracted (others of a certain adventurous spirit.) The Boy played with boy-cousins (well, mostly with their toys) and enjoyed having more “sisters,” as he called them (the poor guy doesn't know that there are any other kind of short relatives, after all). The children gathered eggs from the chickens; chased the guinea hens; rounded up pigs; sat on Leroy, the three-legged dog; petted a cow; cuddled with the cat (or chased the cat, depending on the child); learned to avoid Roxy, the one-woman min-pin, and had a fabulous time. And then . . . (this is a cliff-hanger, obviously, so you'll be waiting on pins and needles for part two.)

And I’m alive!

2010-06-21T11:53:00.005-05:00

We are moved in, unpacked, and ready to go (more or less!) We have all of the necessities, including toilet paper (no Charmin extra-soft here, though, or anything like unto it) and finally, Internet (and with Internet comes Skype, which means contact with family again). I’ve brushed off my trusty iMac, which has weathered upheaval fantastically well, and am ready to blog our Adventure, the mini-series. With any luck, it will rival the Pride and Prejudice mini-series. (Probably not the writing, though. Or the plot. Or the romance. Or the excellent morals. But maybe length. Maybe.)

Coming to healthcare near you

2010-04-26T23:08:00.003-05:00

Today, I learned some very important facts about our insurance. Mostly, I learned that no matter how long you spend on the phone with various offices, none of them can do anything to help you. I also learned that if you happen to be doing a lot of traveling out of your coverage area, that you should probably just settle for ER visits, because there is no way that anyone can approve any other sort of a doctor's visit. But wait, what if . . . your daughter breaks out in hives and appears to be allergic to the cat, or the sun, or maybe just the whole state of Utah? That's just unfortunate, and hopefully, somebody somewhere else can fix it. But they can't, because with government-run healthcare, the approach to cost-cutting seems to involve placing a wall of bureaucrats between you and your doctor. Which would be awesome if it were a penalty kick or a game of dodge ball with those hard rubber balls.

Ahem.

2010-04-24T12:25:00.001-05:00

So, I changed my blog. It's a work in progress, since I'm on a sloooooooow PC, but it will come together--maybe. It's still not really a mommy blog, and it's not a scrapbook paradise, and I will probably never give away cool free stuff that I make in my free time (1. because my cool stuff is pretty rudimentary--hey, look! a piece of paper glued to a popsicle stick!, and 2. I have no free time.)

We leave for Europe in ONE month, so it's time to step up and share a little more.

Today I'd like to share that after a month in Washington state, and a week in Utah, I am tired of living out of suitcases. That is all.

We're leaving!

2010-03-12T13:06:00.002-06:00

We are pulling out of the campground and heading out. It's been a great experience--we all learned a lot about unselfishness, love, and seizing the day. Next item on the agenda--pulling a camper trailer from one coast to the other. It's going to be a great week!

(Is starting the trip with a speeding ticket a bad omen? Naah.)

Georgetown

2010-03-05T17:01:00.005-06:00

A rainy weekday afternoon in Georgetown

The street is full of well-dressed women

clip-clopping to and fro.
I am a thrown-together woman
with no particular place to go.

I have a few hours free

from children's quarrels and ABCs,
And find myself in the enchanted halls
where merchants serve liberal proclivity.

Stiletto shoes with Italian names,
Parfum from France, and lace from Spain:
A patina of gorgeous from each arcade.
No rinky-dink bargains. Nothing mundane.

The well-dressed women race in the streets:
They have no dilly-dally time today.
They have careers and social obligations:
Theirs is not to seize the day.

I find a treasure for my beloved
and touch and smell and look my all.

I imagine myself a well-dressed woman

-pleasant, but fruitless after all.

I seize the day and seize some more
when I return from my afternoon stroll.
Children caper at the door:
Miraculous. Glorious. Wonderful.

I am a thrown-together woman.
Yells and smells of moppet and mite,

pose my hows and compose my whys.
Carpe diem, joyful soul, grasp the day while there's yet light.

Kristin H. Kent
March 2010

Olympics

2010-02-21T17:51:00.002-06:00

This appears to be a slightly different kind of biathlon.

Today was a good day

2010-02-18T20:33:00.002-06:00

Today was a good day. Oh, sure nothing went as planned and some things went wildly wrong, but it was still a joyful day. I woke up with a glad heart and kept it all day, despite:

~calling for a doctor's appointment at 6:00 am.
~walking into the doctor's office at 10:00 am (with six kids) to find out why no one had called back about my "urgent" condition.
~discovering that the appointment line had not yet passed on any urgent care notes.
~walking back to the car to discover that it wouldn't start.
~discovering that the essential battery ($4.95 for two) in the key fob was dead, thereby setting off the silent alarm in the van, and keeping me from starting the car.
~after a friend in the area took off from work and helped us out (including a jaunt to the BX which was out of batteries and another jaunt to Walmart, which was not close) discovering that the silent alarm had drained the car battery--so now we also needed a jump start.
~having six kids crowd the doctor during my appointment (true fact: even very professional people have a hard time thinking on their feet when confronted by so many little people)
~the computer system was down, so I had to return to the doctor's office and get a paper prescription (they were very fast and kind.)
~grocery shopping with six kids who were, by this time, starving and stir crazy
~and last, but not least, standing on the doctor's scale and staring at the ugly (but truthful) numbers.

also today:
~I held Briellen and Brigham's little hands as we walked down a snowy hill in the stillness of an early morning.
~I carried Vilate in a pack and could feel her warming my back.
~Mirielle's fears of turning into a personage of "bones, skin, and spirit" (her words) never materialized (she's afraid of starving to death. But not afraid enough to actually eat the food I cook. True quote from Tuesday night: "Mom, that's the first thing you ever cooked that I liked!")
~Sarai got her very first pocket knife. (But she hasn't yet earned her tote and chip card, so she doesn't yet have actual possession of the knife.)
~Analise's cat and Sarai's fox got married, in a very elaborate ceremony (complete with a rabbit throwing real rose petals, Mendelssohn's Wedding March, and a ring bearer holding two tiny hair elastics) . They also had a child. (Q: Analise, how long have they been married? (since time is flexible in these sorts of situations, y'know) A: About an hour. Q: Then how do they have a child? A: Mirielle gave it to them as a wedding present.) Excellent.

It has been a great day.

Blizzarding and Milestones

2010-02-11T19:43:00.003-06:00

So, we've had a lot of blizzardish type weather, and with it has come a realization of several advantages to our living situation (only four weeks left, by the way! Hurray!)

1. We have a backup generator, which kicks in if the power goes out--so while 200,000 people lost heat and power, we continued to be cozy and warm and play Rat-a-Tat Cat. We, alas, did not have enough power to watch the Super Bowl. Wait, that's a lie. We lacked the desire to watch or care about the Super Bowl.

2. We have great neighbors, who shoveled out our van in the midst of a blizzard for an ER trip. (Because there's no better time than the middle of the worst snowstorm in 100 years to run a 105 degree temperature).

3. There's not enough room in our fridge for more than one gallon of milk, but we can leave a gallon or two right outside the front door, and the snow insulates it perfectly. It stays the perfect temperature without freezing. (I did have to dig it out under ten inches of snow, though.)

One milestone that we reached this week was that The Boy became our second child to (sorry for the indelicacy) pee standing up (but only the first one to be encouraged to do so.) Exciting times!

Celebrity endorsements

2010-01-24T21:08:00.002-06:00

So, I am offering a new feature on my blog, where I will share with you my endorsement of whatever random oddities that I stumbled upon. My promise to you--I will only endorse products that are pure awesomeness. I don't promise that you, too will love the products--after all, they may be a bit odd. But you may . . .

Mmmm. Delicious--not at all bitter, very smooth with a perfect bite, even if it is a PROCESSED cheese (how did I miss that when I bought it?!--at least it's not a processed cheese-food. But seriously, yum.) The kids liked it until they started to feel the heat from the horseradish kick in.

You can buy this at Petco, but it's not just for cats . . .
This size bottle works better than the large gallon size.

A Confession

2010-01-10T19:24:00.003-06:00

I substituted in primary today. The teacher called me, I think, because I own one of the squirrels in the class. I had taught the class before, months ago, and ended up with a headache and a sincere desire to check caller id before I answer the phone on a weekend. Today, though, the class was great. The kids were still full of energy, and one particular fairy princess kept dancing around and waving glitter everywhere (OK, that would be mine) but we had a productive and interesting discussion on the plan of salvation. It was fun.

A while ago, I took the kids to the dentist and, upon learning that I had six (!) kids, she picked up her jaw from the floor and commented that I must really like children. I was a little discombobulated. I got the impression that she viewed me as some strange phenomenon who loves to pinch cheeks, fix snacks, and wipe noses. And the the thing about kids is that they're not always likable--either singly or in aggregate. They can be whiny, bratty, rude, rotten, stubborn, spoiled, sloppy, slovenly, ditsy, flaky, too clever, too slow--and on, and on, and on. But if you give them a chance, kids are also pretty easy to love. When you look into a child's eyes, you see the windows of a soul that has not yet learned to close its shutters against such intrusion. Those windows reflect the pure light of Christ, all the more beautiful because it is unearned, unasked for, and that those small souls are unaware of the light within.

So, I don't think I particularly like children, more than any other group. But they are so easy to love.

Go big or go home.

2010-01-04T21:09:00.004-06:00

I did this. I made The Boy look like he has mange. It's just been that kind of day.

I had such high hopes for today. I had beautiful plans charted for school, for losing weight, for starting over with the new year. Today was the day I would become a Better Person. And I started off all right--I got out of bed early and made a delicious healthy breakfast for my husband (because that's what Better Persons do). We encouraged all of the children out of bed with soft music and cheery Monday voices and waited patiently as one of the girls stood in the middle of the RV staring at the refrigerator without any shoes on. My husband checked our frozen water pipes and the children slowly poured themselves into the van and even more slowly settled into their car seats and seat belts, and we were suddenly ten minutes late for his commute. And that's when everything started to go terribly wrong.

We ended up at a foreign metro station an hour later. Alan carefully explained how to get home (it was really simple--two rights and a left. Or was that two lefts and a right?) and I carefully listened, filing away the directions in the part of my mind that failed orienteering. I carefully, carefully! followed the directions--and found myself in an unfamiliar part of DC. Three hours later, after a quick jaunt into Virginia and across the Potomac (which is choked with ice, by the way) and back, we were home. Only I had lost my lovely attitude and had stopped at a McDonald's (granted, it was around 10:30--I figured the kids had been in the car for three and a half hours and deserved some sustenance before they started dying of famine all around me. On second thought, that might have alleviated some of the fighting in the back seat. McDonald's is of course, the antithesis to the Whole Food Healthy Eating Lifestyle that we had commenced . . . today). Of course, one kid threw up all over the middle seat. She very thoughtfully moved the books at her feet before throwing up--small mercies.

Back home again, we started Science Month, a month-long foray into the joys of science. Carefully, but flexibly planned, I had found websites, planned experiments, and maybe even some mentors for the kids. I was excited--yesterday. By 11:00 this morning, I was just frustrated. Mandatory math and mandatory clean-up caused contention. Nasty looks and dark thoughts abounded through our small space, slightly alleviated by some computer time for science.

Later, I gave my husband a haircut, trying to be careful (really). His hair now recedes about two inches more on the left side than on the right. Brigham then hopped in the chair and I gave him a haircut--I was all but done (with a really excellent haircut) when the no. 3 attachment popped off the clippers and I shaved a nice chunk of hair right at the top of his head. No hiding it, or getting around it--I had to shave his whole head.

You know the saying "Go big or go home?" Today I just wanted to go home--instead I made spectacular mistake after spectacular mistake. Looking at that poor mangy haircut--I was finally ready to laugh. What a great day to pop in the old memory file!

So, how's that camper-thing working out, anyway?

2009-11-12T20:17:00.004-06:00

For any of you who have stuck it out with me, reading even when I have nothing to say and say it badly, this is your reward: finally, an update on life in Zion's Camper (a stray sunbeam doubled as a flash of inspiration in Gospel Doctrine one fateful Sunday, and we realized that this camper was our march from Kirtland to Jackson County. Only we don't actually want to go to Jackson County. And we don't want dysentery. But we DO want Zion in our home.)

Here are some answers to FAQs, either asked or implied:

Q: Are you guys poverty-stricken?
A: We're doing fine, thank-you.
Q: No, really: are you dirt-poor?
A: No, we're really fine. But thank you for the ham. (Just joking--no one has yet left a stray basket of food items on our doorstep.) We really are doing just fine--we'd be a little better if the guy renting our house paid his rent anywhere near on time. (So if you know of a more reliable tenant, we are open to suggestions. . .)

Q: What's the hardest thing about living in a camper?
A: Boundaries. We have little to no privacy, and the kids take full advantage. I'm at this minute staving off attacks from three small saboteurs who should have been in bed an hour and a half ago. Also, someone keeps using my toothbrush, which wasn't a problem when I had my own bathroom. Although I ought to be thoroughly grossed out, it turns out that I'm just glad that they're brushing their teeth.

Q: How do you keep your sanity?
A: How do you?

Q: Is there anything good at all about living like sardines in a tin can?
A: Surprisingly, yes. There are a lot of blessings that come with being so close--we're closer as a family and more aware of each other's needs, strengths, and weaknesses. We spend a lot of family time together. I get to spend a little time each day with each child doing something that is specific to their needs and wants. (Vilate's wants are pretty simple, by the way, but deeply felt--right now she deeply feels that she should be fed.) I also really enjoy living without all our stuff--we have just about what we really need (and a little bit more, to tell the truth.)

Any more questions?

The sweetness of family time in a cramped space.

2009-11-02T17:47:00.004-06:00

So, my husband is making chocolate chip cookies for FHE. Six very eager pairs of hands are helping with every step, when I overhear, "No touching! And what I mean by that is no touching!" So, of course I reply with some smarty comment about what he means by that, only to hear this gem, "Get your tongue off the mixer!"

Also, we just happen to be making cookies to disco music ('cause sometimes you just gotta have a little Abba). So he asked the many helpers to move their hinders (the "out of the way" was implied) and the three-year old started to boogie, asking her dad "like this? Move my hinder like this?"

It's just that kind of night. But, hey! Cookies!

Art projects

2009-10-31T12:26:00.009-05:00

We have different fun art projects every week. Each girl recently did a self-portrait by tracing a photo (I know, it seems a little bit like cheating, but I didn't want to focus on the drawing part. I wanted to focus on looking at different gradations of color.) At any rate, everyone had fun, and I think a little of their personality came out in their portraits.

Help!

2009-10-19T14:28:00.002-05:00

So, now that we are soon on our way across the pond (as they say. I'm not sure who "they" are, because I've never actually heard anyone say it. I don't run (or sit, or walk) in those circles.) it occurred to me that it would be great to have a photographic record of our adventure that doesn't look like a drab tourist photo essay (you know, everything all gray and busy and full of pieces of random people standing in front of various monuments.)

My first thought, of course, was to shanghai someone like Amy to do all the work for me, and make everything look charming and dear, but since that is impractical, I wondered if anyone has any suggestions for a book on digital photography?

Friends

2009-10-11T21:08:00.003-05:00

We had a lesson in church today on friends (it's here, if you're interested in actual references.) It made me think of (in no particular order):

my children, that I hope will someday grow to be my true friends.
my mother, who has become my friend.
my sister, who I waited for so long to grow up and become a real friend.
All of my brothers and sisters, de fato.
the brothers and sisters in different areas that we lived in, who have opened their hearts and allowed us in.
my mother-in-law, and the whole family I married into, with their welcoming and generous hearts.
A little Cambodian refugee girl (she seemed huge to me--she must have been ten, and I was five, but she let herself be my pal).
Missionary companions.
Church friends.
School friends.
Roommates.
Neighbors.
Not to mention, a husband who is the best, most complete type of friend.
The Savior.

I'm pretty fond of this idea of friendship. It seems impossible to love so many different people, but it must be possible because I do.

She walks.

2009-10-02T10:06:00.002-05:00

The baby has taken her first, tentative steps. She is so proud of herself. It's a delightful process to watch--and we're savoring it, since running is never very far behind. And there's never any time to savor that. (For anyone keeping track, she's our second fastest walker. Brigham has her beat by one day.)

Relief Society Lesson

2009-09-29T19:14:00.005-05:00

I taught a Relief Society lesson on Sunday. I completely biffed it. The topic was 'Jesus Christ: the Savior of the World," with two talks from April General Conference as reference (one by President Uchtdorf and one by Elder Oaks.

I hmmed and hawed, I froze up, I got sidetracked and stuck on a peripheral point. At one point, I even developed tunnel vision, when everything outside of a small round area turned dark and fuzzy. I didn't tell one personal story or make anyone laugh. It was double-ungood.

This is the point I meant to make: That we do our part by serving each other with compassion and with joy. We can know that the Savior will do his part: that he knows us, loves us, and will intervene in our lives and the lives of our loved ones, that he will truly save us. The atonement is real.

Simple, right?

It depends on what side you're on . . .

2009-09-21T13:31:00.002-05:00

On one side of the door: a two-year old and three-year old who don't want to be in bed and are clamoring to get out. On the other side of the door: an eight month-old standing and pushing with all of her chubby might, trying to be with the others. Oh, the sweetness.

It's been a while . . .

2009-09-07T10:02:00.002-05:00

Things that have happened in the last few months . . .

One trip to Texas. 3000 miles, over 100 mosquito bites (spread over six kids, mostly garnered in Arkansas), overnights with amazing aunts, uncles, and cousins, and by the way, one fancy mortarboard.

Trips to the National Zoo, the National Archives, the Natural History Museum, and the most northernly (don't you love that word? It's on the sign at the entrance.) cypress swamp in the USA.

Czech classes twice a week. I'm not fluent yet. Probably not next week either.

I started yoga. I thought it was mostly flexibility, but it seems to be more involved with impossible feats of simultaneous strength and balance. I'm sure it's good for me. At least, pretty sure.

An exhibit titled "Czechoslavakia through the eyes of the Secret Police." The communist regime is described as "wicked." I don't think that I've really seen that word outside of the scriptures and some Victorian literature, but it's absolutely appropriate.

A trip to King's Dominion where we met up with another aunt, uncle, and cousins. A day of roller coasters, adventure, and best of all, zero whining, complaining, or asking for stuff. (A day like that should be cast in resin and kept forever.)

And 7:30 this morning was beautiful.

Adventures on the East Coast: Part 1, The First Week

2009-07-09T22:54:00.003-05:00

Day 1: At two-thirty in the morning we said good-bye to our last two faithful helpers, and locked the doors of our beautiful (and now exceedingly clean!) grand old house. My husband and I shared a long, lingering look under the moonlight and tenderly kissed each other one last time in the shadow of our Belleville hopes and dreams. And then we each got into our separate cars and drove off into the night. Or at least he did. My car's battery had conked out. My husband came back, got out the jumper cables, and once again all was well in Zion. As I followed him to pick up the children, his back door swung open and a single watering can fell out. I honked frantically, all the while thinking, "We have so little space and we have room for a watering can? This is lunacy!"

Day 2: After four refreshing hours of sleep, we were awakened by Briellen screaming. Her finger had been shut in the door of her room (we were at the hotel on base) by Brigham, with no little vigor. A precursory look, and we were off to the nearest emergency room: back in Belleville. We were able to leave the hospital around 1:00 pm. Briellen's finger was wrapped in gauze, and she is missing the skin and most of the fingernail from the middle finger on her right hand. (It's healing nicely at this point, but she will need a plastic surgeon to supervise her recovery.) After repacking the car and various other persnickety errands, we get a late start on our drive. We made it to Indiana, and stayed at a hotel with some of the friendliest staff I have ever met.

Day 3: More driving. Today we would make it to Washington, DC. Not. Our trip was like swimming in molasses. One pair of shoes were lost at a rest stop in Kentucky. Everyone in my car had had enough far before our destination point. We stopped at a place in Virginia.

Day 4: Awake at 3:30 am. Finish trip into DC, and make it to campground at 8:00 am. We are exhausted and having a hard time appreciating the natural beauty of the surroundings, but it's there. Go out to dinner later and pay exhorbitant amount at seafood restaurant.

Day 5: Fourth of July: we head to the Mall and watch the fireworks with two million other Americans. Oddly, I don't hear The Star-Spangled Banner played. I also don't hear other people singing as the musical talent breaks into "I'm glad to be an American" (Tradition at my high school was that everyone stood and joined in--this doesn't seem to be the case practically anywhere else.) I am feeling tired and cranky with all of the walking.

Day 6: I can hardly lift my head off my pillow, but go to church anyway. It's a large bubbling ward, very friendly. I don't have the energy to care, and go sleep in the car after sacrament meeting. For the next several days, I will be plagued with fevers, chills, sweats, and the inability to keep my head up for more than five minutes at a time.

Day 7: I don't remember.

Day 8: Alan unloads 14,000 lbs from moving trailer with little help. Sarai cheers him on, at his side. At five o'clock, extra help arrives. He is enormously grateful and exceedingly tired. I know I survived, but I'm not sure how. My temperature hits 104, and I can still hear Disney movies running in my head since the kids watched them over and over as I lay semi-comatose on the couch. I wonder if the neighbors think I'm a lush, since I can't walk without staggering.

Day 9: Don't remember.

Day 10: Finally go to Emergency Room. My now life-long companion, the fevered brow, is absent for the first time in days. The nurse triages me accordingly in the "broken fingernail" category. Two hours later, I see a doctor. He sends me for x-rays, and discovers pneumonia. I think to myself "Take that, triage lady!" between racking coughs. Home again with antibiotic: our adventures are just beginning. Please let the rest be less exciting than this.

Random Notes

2009-06-28T16:20:00.004-05:00

My husband gave me some pots and pans a few years ago. These weren't just any pots and pans: they were the All-Clad stainless steel that I had dreamed about having. I had researched the best cookware, and it came down to All-Clad (although I'm also partial to Le Creuset.) I did not expect to actually get the pots and pans, since they were expensive and all, but my husband does good by me. The point is, after he gave me these fabulous, amazing, beautiful, useful objects, I carefully put them away and didn't use them. I wanted to keep them new for a while. Finally, this year, I have started using them on a regular basis.

This week, we are leaving Illinois permanently. We will rent our house and eventually sell it, but for the next nine years, we are at the mercy of the military. But the thing is, I am not finished yet. I am not finished being part of the family that we have gained here. I feel like I have just finally gotten to the point where I'm ready to use my shiny new friends, and now I'm leaving them behind.

Getting the Olmsted scholarship and living abroad with our family has always been our dream. Dreams are very comfortable when they stay where they belong, up in la-la land, but when you actually get your dream? That's when things get difficult. You have get out of your comfort zone (but I just barely got here!) and let go of some of your other dreams (like eating the hanging tomatoes you planted, or planting trees, or being there when someone you love has their long-awaited baby.)

So, this crazy thing our family is doing? It is absolutely the right thing to do. But I will leave a piece of my heart here in this area. Fortunately, we live in the information age with such wonders as the Inter Net and the World Wide Web, so I can continue to keep up on people's happenings through their blogs. Unfortunately (?), I have again become friends of the non-gossip variety, so I may not get all of the news. Fortunately, that's not any different than the present.

This week I was worked into the ground by a nonagenarian. She arrived ready to work looking very trim and lovely in her casual outfit with lipstick and her face all made up. She never broke a sweat or got a hair out of place, and she exhausted me. Extraordinary.

. . . And here is my new kitchen.

2009-06-28T16:13:00.008-05:00

I hope it comes with the basket of apples.

Kitchen

2009-06-22T23:01:00.002-05:00

So, last November, right before Thanksgiving, we started to rip out our kitchen. We replaced the lighting (from hideous fluorescent bulbs--think school classroom--to recessed can lighting), we replaced the oven (now a double oven and a cooktop), we replaced the sink, everything. Alan built the cherry cabinets from scratch. And now, at T-9 days, it is completely finished. I can bask in its loveliness for a whole week more. Here is a link to the whole gallery of pictures, but I'll give you just a taste right here:

Fireflies

2009-06-19T21:03:00.004-05:00

It has come to my attention that we have been much too busy this summer. We have been busy doing inside things like (constant) cleaning, packing, and building. And so, it wasn't until last night, that quite by accident, we came home from frenetic erranding just at dusk, which is exactly the right time for fireflies. And although the fireflies have been around for quite awhile, you just don't see them while you are in the house, picking up a precious, treasured gum wrapper (or something of that ilk) for the fifteenth time.

Before we pulled into our driveway, six little mouths were championing the cause of the their empty stomachs. At least one little person almost completely wasted away from famine. But when the car doors were opened, the magic fireflies distracted all but one from their horrible fate. They spilled out of the car into the dusk, screaming and laughing, and caught several fireflies (at least one of which is now illuminating the inside of the house at random intervals.) I had to entice them inside to eat the barely warm, but still scrumptious, Colonel's specialty.

Again tonight they were outside as soon as dusk hit, chasing lightning bugs and other benign creatures of the night. Two toads were captured in the lightning bug house. They looked as if they were finding their captivity quite tasty. The only firefly I could see was a partial one on the outside of Mr. Pipi's mouth. (The larger toad was apparently named for his action on retrieval.) That is the beauty of summer. Its the time when life reaches out and pulls you in, to let you know that the thing that you've been working for, hoping for, dreaming for? It's here and it's all around you, and it's time to go catch some lightning bugs.

Aunts

2009-06-13T10:12:00.002-05:00

My children are abundantly blessed with Aunts. Sixteen all together, I think. (and let's not even get into the great-aunts!) Last week, when Alan and I had to go out of town, two Aunts came to take care of the children. Now, these are not old-fashioned spinster-type ladies who have nothing better to do. They both took off work and flew out, shared fun times with the kids, (and left my house immaculate, by the way.) So, of course I am grateful that they came out to help . . . but there is something I am more grateful for.

Someday soon, my five girls will be growing up. And I recognize that there are important things that they will not always want to talk to their mother about. (I would have been mortified to tell my mother about my first kiss!) I'm not saying I'm not available--I would love it if my children were to tell me every detail of their lives (after all, we've held small celebrations for toilet bowl deposits, for crying out loud) but still sometimes a kid just needs an adult to talk to that's not her mom . . .

When my girls need someone to talk to and counsel with, they have all of these wonderful aunts. Aunts whom they love and trust (and already miss). And whom I love and trust. Those type of relationships are pure gold. So Rosemary and Emily, thank you for saving my bacon this last week. But I'm afraid that this is only the beginning. And I have a feeling that maybe, just maybe, you're good with that.

Books, Books, Books

2009-05-28T17:12:00.003-05:00

At playgroup today, the conversation turned to books. Somehow, we went from the Periodic Table of Elements to Cheaper by the Dozen to a book about the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire. Here's a little more information on some of those books for anyone interested.

From School Library Journal
Grade 6-9-The Nolan family's dreams of prosperity in a new country are shattered when baby Joseph fails the medical exam at Ellis Island and must be taken back to Cork by his father. Though Da promises a quick return, Ma is miserable. Frustrated by her dependence on the unwilling hospitality of prosperous relatives, she gladly accepts money from her brother-in-law for herself and her three daughters to return home. Having few opportunities in Ireland, 16-year-old Rose rebels and she and 12-year-old Maureen are allowed to remain in New York to seek work and schooling. Rose finds them a room with a kindly Jewish family, and the landlord's labor unionist daughter, Gussie, gets her a position at the Triangle Waist Company. The teen feels especially happy one morning, wearing a dress in a new color called "ashes of roses" in anticipation of a nickelodeon outing with friends after work. Within hours, her clothing choice takes on a macabre appropriateness as she, Gussie, and Maureen, who also works there, fight for their lives in a fire still recalled as one of the worst industrial disasters in U.S. history. Fast-paced, populated by distinctive characters, and anchored in Auch's convincing sense of time and place, this title is a good choice for readers who like historical fiction.
Starr E. Smith, Fairfax County Public Library, VA
Copyright 2002 Cahners Business Information, Inc.

This was excellent--a window into real lives and real tragedy at the beginning of the nineteen hundreds.

Classic Story of the raising of 12 children, by 2 siblings who came from a family of 12. The authors dedicated the book to their parents. "To DAD who only reared twelve children and to MOTHER who reared twelve only children.

This is one of my favorite all time books. It's absolutely hilarious, and yet really touching. Family vacations--morse code--phonographs--first dates--skipping grades--my fine little Irishman--the glorious car with it's loud horn "Ah-ooga!" Excellent. In fact, I wonder which bookshelf it's on. I think I'll read it again.

Other books not discussed, but that come to mind: for young adult fans of historical fiction (or those young adults who need a little push toward good history), anything by Ann Rinaldi. Her work is always well-researched, interesting, and pretty fair. I particularly liked A Break with Charity: A Story About the Salem Witch Trials. It's about a group of girls as accusations of witchcraft ran rampant in Salem. Modern-day explanations of the events in Salem involve rust on the rye (which was one of their primary grains.) The rust was a hallucinogen that acted somewhat like LSD, which explained A LOT about some of the very disturbing events of the time. (Of course, anything about witches and Puritans leads to The Witch of Blackbird Pond, another great read from my youth.)

At this moment in time, we are packing our books. Nineteen bookcases, filled with wonderful books that I (and the children) had forgotten about. As you can imagine, the packing part is almost impossible. Instead, I sit on the floor in front of piles of books (with at least three children), reading snippets, and thinking, "I can't pack this one! We need it!" despite the fact that said book has not been noticed or missed for the last year. There are worse trials.

Random Thoughts on a Few of My Children

2009-05-19T22:28:00.003-05:00

Brigham's two favorite phrases are active: "What's that for?" and "What's that do?" He's been as involved as possible in helping Dad build the new kitchen. Occasionally, one sees him with two hammers and a screwdriver. And he knows what they're for. And what they do.

Mirielle has a unique way of moving. She sort of drifts effortlessly from place to place. Her white hair is like dandelion fluff, barely anchored to our particular idea of time and space by her tiny, graceful body. There is a simple joy in just watching her comings and goings. It's quite possible that she slips in and out of our dimension; or that she is some sort of faery changeling. What is certain is that her being is a great gift.

Occasionally, when I am somewhere in Vilate's orbit--holding her, or near her while she sits in her swing, I sense someone looking a me. And sure enough, her big blue eyes are fixed on me, drinking me in, just hoping, hoping! that I, her one and only mother, will look at her. And when I do--oh, the joy, the rapture! Her eyes fill with light and something for which "smile" is an understatement possesses her whole body. She is all that is good and wonderful and right, and in those few moments, I become a better mother and a better person.

A response to Mona Charen

2009-05-16T19:54:00.002-05:00

Mona Charen (whom I generally like) wrote an article for National Review about marriage (do read it.) She said that we are having the wrong marriage debate: focusing on the case against gay marriage instead of the huge problem with unmarried pregnancy. Here's her closing argument:

Young women, especially poorly educated ones, have gotten the idea that marriage is all about them — about their romantic hopes. In fact, while marriage often does deliver on the promise of happiness for adults, it is only secondarily about adult happiness. It is primarily about safety and security for children. The old stigma against illegitimacy was harsh and led to its own kind of suffering. But it prevented narcissistic young people from impairing the lives of their children on a grand scale.

While I agree with what she had to say, in comparing the two issues surrounding marriage, she misses that they both have the same root cause: a definition of marriage rooted in adult happiness. If marriage is primarily about adult happiness, or a vision of romantic love, we end up with all of the problems we have today: high rates of divorce, high rates of illegitimacy, and confusion as to the nature of parties involved in marriage. In fact, if marriage were primarily about adult happiness, Henry VIII wouldn't have needed an executioner on retainer to sever the heads of his inconvenient wives and their near relations.

Romantic love is a Good Thing. It does not make, however, a stable foundation for marriage. Because in marriage come things like varicose veins and childbirth and toothpaste in the sink, which are not romantic and not particularly happy. Marriage, in its highest sense, is a covenant between a man, a woman, and God. God is essential because He's the only one who's likely to fully keep the covenant: the other two parties will strive in different degrees, but because of our very human nature, we fall short of perfectly keeping the covenant. In its most elemental sense, marriage is a contract between two people and society. A marriage system built on adult happiness asks, "What can society do for me? Where are my benefits?" A marriage system built on the interdependency of generations asks instead, "What can I do for my society? How can I contribute?" And that, as someone once said, makes all the difference.

Nerdy t-shirts

2009-05-13T22:33:00.003-05:00

All of this fun and whimsy courtesy of this site.

Extreme sports

2009-05-09T17:43:00.002-05:00

People do a lot of things to get an adrenaline rush. Back in my day, skateboarding on a half-pipe was at the very edge. Now, extreme sports are going places no sport has gone before. Behold, extreme ironing.

Baby Sumo Wrestling.

2009-05-08T18:28:00.004-05:00

Via this website, this is for Susan, who has one of the most adorably plump babies in the world. (If you need proof check out this or this.) Newborn babies are pitted against one another in the ring. The first one to cry, wins.

The Green Couch

2009-05-03T19:28:00.002-05:00

So, I have been thinking about all kinds of things I want to ramble on about all week (torture. ordinary women. birthday parties. imperial weights and measures versus metric. a light cheese cake recipe I tried this week.) and maybe I'll give those subjects a chance later on--or maybe not. But right at this very minute, my husband is sitting on our old green couch in the library. He has four little people on his lap and crowded around him as he reads. They are all eagerly clutching their book--waiting for their turn. It seems to be Classics Night, as so far he has read "Where the Wild Things Are" and "Madeline," and it looks like a Jan Brett book is on tap.

We spend so much time with the busy-work that goes into living (and remodeling, and going to school, and homeschooling, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.) It's easy to get stressed out and get my priorities out of whack. But this thing that's happening on the green couch? That's who we are. That's the heart of our family--love and tenderness and togetherness. There isn't even any pushing or yelling or name-calling. Can you frame a moment and keep it forever?

Feminism

2009-04-26T16:46:00.004-05:00

So, these are some thoughts on feminism. If you're looking for something light and humorous, click away! (Quickly, before you're sucked in!)

I occasionally read one of the feminist Mormon blogs. The problem is, every time I finish reading, I become much less of a feminist than I was before. (It's the whining. and the self-centeredness. And the looking at everything bass-ackwardness. And little things like that.)

I have realized that I believe a few key things differently than some of my feminist sisters. One, I believe that any understanding of women begins with the fact that we are different than men, and those differences are deep and eternal, and encompass not only the way that we look, but the way that we think and our own internal purpose. I believe that women throughout time have been strong and powerful in their chosen and necessary roles. I believe that we as women are communal, and when we cut ourselves off from our foremothers, by believing them to have been weak and powerless, we become weak and powerless. When we connect ourselves to their legacy and find the respect and the deep reverence that they are owed, we find that we ourselves are worthy of those things.

This is not to say that there has never been abuse, discrimination, or oppression. Certainly, there has. But when we focus on "the systematic oppression of a patriarchal system" we miss the matriarchy that is so essentially intertwined with that patriarchy. Destroying patriarchy as being devoid of anything positive and good quickly destroys its partner as well. So, I say, "Yay, Women!" " Yay, Men!" Love 'em both.

2009-04-16T20:42:00.004-05:00

So, have you ever got one of those checks in the mail? They are written out to you, personally for $5000. Or maybe $10,000. Or something like that. And at first you get really excited and think, yes! And then you read the fine print that says if you cash this check--this amazing wonderful gift out of thin air that will solve all of your problems--you will owe the credit company 38% compounded interest for the rest of your life and your first child. Or your second.

So, I'm watching CNN's coverage of the tea party in Chicago, and the fabulous professional reporter lady is getting a little worked-up at one of the protesters, trying to help him understand that he has nothing to protest about because the government is going to send him a check for $400. And, all I can think is, does this woman never read her junk mail?

Happy Birthday

2009-04-12T11:23:00.005-05:00

Happy birthday, my brother!

Today you would be 32 years old. If you were here, I would make you a carrot cake, of course. My children know you through my stories of a dark-haired mischievous boy with a wicked sense of humor and a love for the natural world. I sometimes see flashes of you in my children: Sarai has your love for the outdoors along with your "not-knowing-when-to-stop" issue. Brigham has your eyes. And almost all of my children are short.

It has been 13 years, and sometimes I worry. I worry that my memories of you will fade or be distorted since you can't correct me. Here are some few (that perhaps others will correct as needed). I remember when David drew your name for Christmas and gave you fish hooks. The look on your face was priceless--a sort of sad irony. I remember when you went out on the lake with Ray, and blistered the backs of your legs so badly you couldn't move for three days. I remember feeling smug when Helene was born and I got a sister instead of the brother that you and Luke were both cheering for. I remember playing in Grandma Sweetman's sawdust heap with you with all sorts of little bowls and cups--I think you must have played with little cars and trucks, though. I remember your first goatee--strawberry blond, which surprised us since your hair was so dark. I remember that you would come and steal little pinches of dough whenever I was cooking, and later you became something of a "master chef" in your own right. You were always so creative, so adventurous, so funny. You were also often frustrating, irritating, and sort of like a runaway train.

One thing I don't worry about: where you are now. My first memory is of the altar in the Idaho Falls temple. I remember seeing myself and a little blond boy (Luke) in the eternity mirrors. There must have been a round-bellied Mom in the mirror, too, since you were born a month later. ( I probably had to look up too far to see Mom and Dad. That's probably why I don't have their image in my memory. Maybe if I thought hard enough, I could remember their knees.) I have felt such a sense of peace since you passed on, knowing that you are a member of our eternal family, and that Heavenly Father loves you and knows better than I your worth and the work that you need to do. I have felt that you are at peace, and that you are working hard, sharing the gospel with those near and dear to us.

I love you and I miss you, dear boy.

More Olmsted

2009-04-01T18:13:00.002-05:00

(This is cross-posted at the family website for anyone who has already read it.)

So, here's the update: Alan will be starting school at Charles University in September or October of 2010. In between then and now, we will have to finish remodeling the house and getting it ready to sell and do 47? weeks of language training in Czech. Czech is an Indo-European language, so it's sort of like a fifth cousin once removed of English (but a first cousin of Ukrainian and Russian.) None of us have any experience with Slavic languages, so this will be a new experience for us.

There are two main language schools for the military: one is in Monterrey, CA and the other is in Washington DC. It looks like we will probably head to school in Washington DC (Good-bye beautiful Pacific Ocean. Good-bye sea lions. Good-bye California sunshine, Monterrey Aquarium and walks on the beach at sunset. Sigh.) Nothing is set in stone, though. It's possible that we could do our language training in-country, however, and be in the Czech Republic in October of this year. Nothing is certain yet, other than we could really use an army to put our house together zippity-quick (Good-bye kitchen! 'Tis better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all!)

Olmsted

2009-03-30T15:08:00.001-05:00

We got the news today (via an Army staff sergeant) that we made the cut. Alan was selected to receive the Olmsted Foundation Scholarship, and hewill be assigned to study at Charles University in Prague, Czech Republic. Wow! I am overwhelmed!

Random Thoughts

2009-03-29T20:32:00.003-05:00

I am currently without a kitchen sink. So we're washing dishes the pioneer way--or at least, how pioneers would have done dishes if they had running water and electricity. Maybe not so tough, after all.

My new kitchen is going to be awesome. I look at the cherry cabinets and they make me smile inside.

The powers-that-be will give us Official Word on Tuesday (supposedly) of whether or not Alan won the Olmsted. . . . .

Mirielle: Was Jesus married?
Me: Uh, what do you think?
Mirielle: I think he was married to Mary, the one that's not his mother.
Me: (thinking, "Where did that come from?") Why do you say that?
Mirielle: Because she was his friend.
. . . and then the conversation between my five-year old and I got even stranger. You can only imagine. I guess small people have a talent for metaphysics or something. It got to the point where I wouldn't have been surprised by the casual mention of Kant or Emerson or a desire to visit Walden Pond.

Other memorable quotes:
Analise: My mind is empty but my heart is full of love.
Briellen: (pushing up her nose) I look like a hippopotamus.

This week is science week again. I like science week--it's relaxing, interesting, and hands-0n. Remind me again why all of home school isn't this way? Oh that's right. There are just some things people have to learn to do that they don't like. Like writing legibly, darnit.

I know this is SO last week, but . . .

2009-03-11T14:55:00.003-05:00

25 DVDs? Really? Next time that heads of state come to visit, might I suggest this little number instead? As a bonus, it's very cheap and kitschy and they can be made in bulk for all of our foreign policy needs.

Swimsuits

2009-02-22T19:51:00.002-06:00

I am at the post-pregnancy point where I really, REALLY wish the extra weight would just go away by itself. It won't though, so I am looking longingly at exercise equipment, DVDs, and strangely, swimsuits. I bought a few DVDs--the ones for the kids came last week and have been a smashing success. There's nothing like a stick-like little girl attempting kick boxing (yes, pure awesomeness.) I haven't tried my DVDs yet, but I am certain that I too, will have a willowy, dancer's body, just like the females on the cover. Even if I have never had a willowy body in my entire life, hope springs eternal.

I actually wasn't thinking about swimsuits (not even close!) until I clicked on a link for some of the new spring collections during Fashion Week. And the swimsuit collection? It was just a bunch of bikinis that looked exactly alike--immodest, uncomfortable, and unrealistic. (Okay, if I were comfortable showing that much flesh, I'd just walk around nude. It's certainly cheaper.) So I started wondering what there was in the line of modest swimsuits this year, and I found a few at Lime Ricki Swimwear and Lands' End. I really liked a few at Lime Ricki--maybe I will be in actual swimsuit shape this summer. Or maybe not.

Some fun facts and commentary on a Sunday evening.

2009-02-22T19:33:00.003-06:00

Brigham is trying to move the stove out of its place. Using my silicone basting brush. Wearing his sister's fur-lined pink boots.

Briellen is jumping off the couch. She is wearing a diaper. And a smile.

Vilate is sleeping.

Analise is jump-roping in her pajamas.

Everyone is playing kindly. No one has been hit or yelled at by anyone else for several minutes.

Mirielle and Briellen weigh exactly the same amount.

Sarai is in the same math book as her babysitter.

BYU Men's Chorus is awesome.

Valentine

2009-02-15T20:19:00.003-06:00

Wow, it's been a long time since I posted anything!

Happy late Valentine's Day! I hope your day was filled with people you love and many small kindnesses. We had a family party (cookies! candy! bouncing off the walls!). Dad took care of two of the three Valentine's essentials: flowers and chocolate, so I had fun writing a poem for each of the children. Brigham's was the most fun, so I thought I'd share (and for you English purists--Mom and Mary, I mean you! I'm aware that it's not laureate material, but I still enjoyed writing it):

Brigham

Smashing, pounding, running boy—
Ka-pow! BOOM! Smash!
Climbing, yelling, jumping joy—
Ka-boom! POW! Crash!
Sparkling eyes and devilish smile—
Yowza! BANG! Crash!
Charming, loving, falling with style—
Oof! YOW! Smash!
Broken hearts and broken glass—
Sparkle! GLEAM! Smash!
Going everywhere and going fast—
Vvvroom! SHA-ZAM! Crash!
Fiddle-bowing, stomping, crowing—
“Oh the CLEVERness of me!”-boy
Oh boy! Oh beautiful Boy!

Vilate

2009-01-18T14:21:00.004-06:00

Vilate Victoria

8 lbs 15 oz.

20 inches long.

This was probably my most difficult labor yet. It challenged me to my absolute limits. Yet, at the end of it all, there is now this beautiful, gentle, sweet little girl who is an integral part of our eternal family. We are extremely blessed. I can't wait to see her grow and develop and learn more about who she is.

She has come into a home where she is deeply loved and wanted by every single member of the family. Brigham and Briellen both adore her. Mirielle makes up songs and sings to her endlessly. Analise and Sarai both love to hold her and help with her. Mom and Dad are pretty content. And exhausted, to tell the truth.

Oh, and Dad? He's pretty much been heroic through everything. The night after we came home, he was up all night with three different children (not Vilate) and was so gentle and kind through his sleeplessness, (and this after helping me through labor the previous day). I was deeply impressed.

Also, a big enormous thanks to Amy O. She took our other children in again and again. We didn't have to worry in any way, and I am more grateful than I can express. Thanks, Amy.

Yup

2009-01-13T17:00:00.003-06:00

So, I will officially go into labor at some point tomorrow. The 10th (11th? 15th?) doctor that I've seen decided that the team is tired of seeing me in the clinic, and very helpfully scheduled me for a 5:00 am induction tomorrow morning. So, hopefully, all goes well and as painlessly as possible. I will have yet another doctor that I have never met before deliver the baby.

Things I hope to stand strong on tomorrow:

NOT taking a wheelchair upstairs when I can walk perfectly well (It's hospital policy, but it makes me fell weak, powerless, and ill. All psychological, but still).

NO hospital gowns with convenient holes for heart monitors. I don't need a heart monitor. The convenient hole reminds me of the Seinfeld episode when Elaine sends out Christmas pictures . . . and then discovers that she is somewhat exposed. The heart monitor hole is even more exhibitionist.

Since I'm being induced, I will not pass on the pain medication. Maybe I can sleep through all of the hard parts?

Wish me luck!

Are you still here?

2009-01-11T16:52:00.002-06:00

I did not want to go to church today. I did want to take the sacrament and hear the speakers and all of that good stuff, but I wasn't looking forward to the social aspect: the inevitable question "Are you still here?" But I went to church, and enjoyed sacrament meeting, and even primary with the new schedule and the new presidency, and was only asked about 35 times "Are you still here?" "Why are you still here?" "When are you going to have that baby?" And as hard as it is for me to continue responding that I am just waiting, the genuine kindness and concern is really touching.

The baby will come when it comes. I'm just not very good at waiting. I'm trying to be better though--what choice do I have?

Yarn

2008-12-14T09:33:00.002-06:00

I'm in the middle of a Christmas Project that involves sewing with yarn. As I was sewing along last night, I was thinking about my history with yarn.

My mother is a yarn enthusiast. There are caches of yarn all over the house of every conceivable color and texture. And she keeps buying more. There are knitting needles stashed in odd containers in every room. As a child I trailed after her to specialty yarn shops (with eccentric names like the "Loopy Ewe") full of vibrant colors and wonderful textures. She even raised sheep at one point with the idea of dying, spinning, and knitting the wool product. (I remember the sheep being shorn, and some of the wool carded, but I'm not sure much got done with it after that. There were several bags of wool in storage for quite a few years.)

I love yarn. I love the idea of spinning, the aesthetics of a spinning wheel, the idea of dying wool with splashes of different colors. It's comforting and homey. Of course, I don't do anything of those things--I don't even knit. (I have learned to knit at least half a dozen times, but it never quite took.)

My children have no idea of the possibilities of yarn. They don't know that there are yarns available beyond the cheap, horrible brands available at WalMart and Hobby Lobby. When Grandma came to visit last week, we found a yarn store for her full of expensive and wonderful yarns. There were a small group of ladies who were there for a class, or maybe just to work on projects together. They all had that knitter's camaraderie, a sort of comfortable sisterhood that speaks in the language of "knit one, purl 2, cast off." My children were entranced. They wandered around the store, feeling the different yarns and helping with the wool winder. Everything was new and wonderful and beautiful. They all planned to buy each other Christmas presents of yarn (at $25 a skein). That was when we left the store.

Maybe I need to finally learn to knit. Or just move close to Grandma again.

Friday Night Date Night

2008-12-07T21:34:00.002-06:00

or

One of These Legs is Not Like the Other

So, we got to go on a date Friday night. That's a pretty rare occurrence, unfortunately. It was nice to spend some time alone, just the two of us. Oh, and the doctor. Because we spent our time together at the hospital. This is the background:

One of my legs became swollen. Just one. My doctor didn't think it was a problem, but said if it happened again, I should go in and get checked out. So, it did happen again, after the ward Christmas party--complete with blurry vision and headaches. We headed into the hospital, where I was hooked up and monitored. By that time, the swelling had mostly gone down, of course. I am fine, the little one is fine, and it's always nice to have alone time with my husband. Even if I'm in an attractive hospital gown that opens up the back with monitors stuck all over my body.

Come what may and love it!

It's a . . .

2008-11-17T20:28:00.002-06:00

My amazing, best-ever doctor is being deployed to Iraq. (Why do they need an OB in Iraq? Good question!) So, with six weeks left, I am being transferred to a new doctor whom I know nothing about. I am, of course, overjoyed and excited for this opportunity. Yay. I have this dream of having a water birth with a mid-wife in attendance. It worked for Helene anyway (granted, she is an iron woman with a pain threshold higher than Superman) but it's not going to happen for me. The hospital looks fairly decent, and I'm sure the doctor will be competent, but I'm still unhappy.

As to the baby, we still don't know! We're certain it's a boy or a girl, but we probably won't know until it's born now. The baby was uncooperative and the machine was fuzzy, so we are still clueless. So, give us another six weeks, and we'll know for sure.

Pets

2008-11-16T19:21:00.002-06:00

We own a cat. Her name is Angel, and she is a shy calico creature. She came into our lives two years ago through a string of circumstances:
1. My oldest daughter wanted a cat.
2. My oldest daughter had bargained with her father for a cat in return for wearing her dreaded, hated, abhorred eye patch every day.
3. She only had to keep her part of the bargain for three more weeks (surprise! joy!)
4. Right at this juncture, a secretary at my husband's work rescued an abused and neglected cat.
5. The secretary needed a home for the poor, darling thing.
6. As the official Home for Unwanted, Deformed, and Unusual Animals (The hissing, biting, clawing, Jack Rabbit; the Unusually Stinky Guinea Pigs; The Three Miracle Fish that would not die; our dear, deformed parrot Quasimodo; etc.) it was inevitable that we would end up meshing together a little girl who wanted to cuddle and adore her very own cat with a cat that despised all humans.
We have reached a separate peace with Angel. She lives in the attic of the garage and generally ignores us, and we give her food and water, the occasional scraps, and if she's lucky someone changes her litter box. Sarai gets an occasional happy glimpse of her cat, and her cat has kept our big house rodent-free. It's a win-win for us all.
So, the other day, I was remembering what it was like to live in a house where the cats paid you the courtesy of ignoring you to your face. 'Wouldn't it be nice to have a little ball of fur to curl up on your lap every so often?' I thought. (As if all of the fuzzy small people curling up on my lap at every opportunity aren't MORE than enough).
And then, the surprise. Unbeknownst to us (and with no effort on my part, for once), our family expanded. A rare Angel sighting was augmented with a tiny black fuzzball trotting along behind her. We have a kitten! Just one, but it's an opportunity to start over with a cat that likes people and wants to be petted and loved. We just have to catch it first. And since all efforts in that direction have ended with scratches, breaking tools, and small people stuck headfirst in large piles of lumber, that might be a challenge.

Survey!

2008-11-11T13:25:00.002-06:00

I have been working on my master's degree for awhile now, and for one of my class projects, I have created a survey. So, if you are home-schooling your academically gifted children or know anyone that is, please, please, PLEASE go to this link to fill out my survey. It should take about 15-20 minutes, and unfortunately there is no reward at the end other than my undying gratitude. Thanks, everyone!

Click Here to take survey

Come walk with me

2008-11-09T10:26:00.000-06:00

A few years ago, right after we had moved to a new base, my doorbell rang late on a Sunday night. It was a group of young girls dressed up in women's bodies, and they invited me to come out and take a walk. These neighborhood women were unfamiliar to me, but I gathered up the courage to say yes, anyway. I left my small children home with my husband, and started a journey that changed my life. Every Sunday night, this group of women would start walking around the neighborhood, ringing doorbells and picking up other friends. We would walk and talk about husbands, children, school, losing weight, gaining weight, books, and all sorts of trivia. We also talked about our heartaches, heartbreaks, and daily miracles. Faces changed as time wore on and families moved in and out of the neighborhood, but the tradition kept on. The common experience of sisterhood wove our hearts together as we walked. There were hot dry nights where we walked through sprinklers, and cold windy ones where we were bundled up to our eyeballs, but still we walked. There was a night where some sisters split off to try mattress-surfing with a mattress they had found among other treasures put out at the side of the road. I discovered kindred spirits inside women who seemed so different than me: different backgrounds, different life experiences. Those walks refreshed my spirit, kept me sane, and reminded me that someone else always had more serious problems than I did. So even though we have all scattered far and wide, this blog is for all of those sisters to come and walk together again.