A Few of My Favorite Things

Falling asleep next to my husband each night

Watching my three children and the dog run freely through the open space of our backyard

Bleats from our lambs and spending time loving on Rosemary

Listening to the unbridled laughter of Mallorie and Spencer as they play together

Folding laundry while watching a movie

Cheering for Morgan as she makes a save in goal during a soccer game

Spencer running up to me, patting my leg and then taking off for the blue chair in the sitting room, book in hand. He climbs onto the chair and waits for me to come read to him

Chatting with my mom

The warmth of a feline body snuggled against my legs at night

Getting through the chaos of bedtime without snapping at the children

The feeling of walking into a freshly cleaned room

Our house bursting with people, noise, and friendship over dinners with company

Morning snuggles with Mallorie

The rascally smile Spencer shoots me when he's being naughty

I Can See 40

The hot air balloons were visible from the hospital room at St. John's where I was born in Albuquerque. I spent many enjoyable birthdays attending different Balloon Fiesta events with friends and family around my special day in October. Until this year, birthdays have been something to celebrate, a reason for cake and ice cream, friend or family gatherings, and a chance to feel the love from those who surround me. Turning 30 gave me a perfect excuse to throw myself a party and I didn't blink twice at the entrance to a new decade (unlike coworkers of mine who had a minor meltdown when faced with this new number).

This year, I turned 36. And instead of the usual adult-type cheer I have felt toward turning another year older, a persistent feeling of melancholy has descended over my head like a little shadow. The sunshine can still penetrate and I have not spiraled into the blues of depression, but I have been surprised by the distaste I feel toward this particular age. I can see 40! I remember throwing my mom a "surprise" party when she turned the big 4-0. Forty is for people who are grown up and doing grown up things, who have kids and a mortgage and a career. They are middle aged. Old, in some respects. Apparently I am in denial about the fact that I am one of those people....

I still struggle with having to do the adult things required by a woman of my station - a wife, mother of three, homeowner, friend, less-than-part-time veterinarian. I struggle with letting go of my selfish desire to have more "me" time. I get tired of having to create a shopping list for Winco and be in charge of putting together the majority of our dinners each week (my favorite day is Sunday when my hubs takes over the kitchen and creates a delightful meal). Of having to answer all the children's questions, bandage their boo-boo's - real or imagined - remember to have the piano practiced and homework completed, nag and push to get children ready in the morning and smile through the chaos of bedtime after a long day of mothering. There is a large weight on my shoulders when the alarm goes off in the morning - if I don't get up on time or early enough, no one else is on time and there is a massive amount of crankiness permeating the atmosphere of our home. I feel, recently, like I am treading water in every aspect of life and I hate that feeling of not quite being able to catch up.

What do you do when you grow weary of "adulting?"

I don't have a good answer to that yet, though counting blessings, focusing on others, and serving my family have certainly pushed that little cloud farther from my head.

Despite the blah of my attitude toward my birthday, it was a lovely Sunday. Church went smoothly, I had a cat nap on the couch snuggled between my daughters, Chadwick made a delicious dinner and we ate brownies with ice cream for dessert. My Inbox was full with messages from Facebook friends and the "who-hoo" of text messages kept up a steady stream throughout the day on my phone. The girls made cards and pictures as gifts. And somewhere in his busy schedule, Chadwick was able to purchase a new lens for my camera - the surprise factor was awesome. (Plus he remembered to get me another lens cap for my old lens as I lost the other one in Utah over the summer.)

Monday was spent with my sweet mother-in-law - Zupa's for lunch and Barnes and Noble for a birthday book. Yup, it's a photography kind of birthday for this old girl. Whee!

I may not be loving my adult responsibilities, but I sure do love the people who surround me, the warmth of our house, and the view from my windows. There is a lot for which to be thankful.

This and That

I don't quite understand where the weeks go....until I look at my planner and realize I've been busy! Canning season has about come to an end and I have mixed feelings about that. I'm looking forward to having my kitchen tile professionally cleaned (I'm not sure the near-constant "stick" from our efforts will ever come out) yet that also means the end of the warmer weather. 

I have to admit that my hubs has been doing most of the canning/freezing: corn in the freezer, canned green beans, grape juice, canned apricots, canned peaches, and raisins. The one thing I love to make for whatever reason is applesauce. Maybe it's because I've actually done it a time or two with my mother-in-law and feel comfortable tackling the project or maybe it's because applesauce happens to be one of my favorite foods. Either way, I devoted large parts of two days preserving the apples from our two trees and it was totally worth every minute. As I was working with Mallorie, I found myself thinking that this was a skill I could pass along to my children, these are memories worth making every season, and I enjoyed the outcome. I also thought that I couldn't wait to do this with my mom, should she ever make it to town at this time of year.

This is the most delightful pink color I have ever beheld in a jar! I don't know how many quarts of grape juice we have on our shelves....I just know it will be hard to ration until next year as it is a family favorite. Our applesauce is also quite pink, now that I think about it.

Most recently in his spare time, Chadwick has been building a barn. For many months, people look out our window toward the back of the property and ask, "What are those poles?" We smile and answer that they are the start to our barn. Which has been stuck in "pole" phase since about May. Now, those same individuals can look out the window and exclaim, "Nice barn!" We're planning a barn raising party in a couple of weeks as there have been several men who have offered to help. I'm totally taking them up on this offer as the days are starting to get shorter. I certainly have no plans to be out there drilling and hammering in my spare time as I am clueless to the process Chadwick has started. 

While Chadwick is hammering, I have been painting. The same little spot. over and over. Five different colors, to be exact. Since the den has been finished, we have wanted to add a bit of an accent color above the fireplace. The small paint swatches from Home Depot don't do a color justice so I picked two that I liked, purchased sample jars, and tossed some paint on the wall. Nope, didn't like those colors. 

Covered the area over with grey primer. Applied two more colors. Liked one of them. Covered the area carefully with grey primer and will purchase the final, official paint tomorrow. We chose the one on the right. 

I love how our house is coming together, both inside and out. I love the chance it provides us to utilize what's grown in our yard, to teach our children about work and watch them run and play. I've been thinking recently about our blessings and how grateful I am for the little things in my life - a marriage between two people dedicated to working hard daily to love the other, healthy children, extra food in our pantry and fridge, and a safe neighborhood. I don't want to get caught taking these things for granted and am glad for the reminders to take a moment and really see the wealth surrounding me. Life ain't perfect, but it is good!

Pete and Re-Pete

There are words and phrases I find myself saying or hearing multiple times daily. Sometimes multiple times per hour. Things like:

"Focus!"

"Gentle, Spencer!"

"Please turn on the princess stories/Amelia Bedelia."

"I'm going upstairs to get a piece of paper."

"What are you supposed to be doing?"

"Can I say the prayer?"

"Please don't throw _____!"

"No la boca, Bubbas."

"Can you please print off a princess/house/koala/dinosaur for me to color?"

"In or out, kitty?"

"Time to climb off the table" or "Come out of the pantry."

"How do you spell _____?"

"Can I watch a movie? A regular movie?"

"Have you done your homework/brushed your teeth/put on your pj's?"

I'm sure this list will continue to grow and change as the children get older and the requests more complex. I love hearing many of those things from their sweet little voices. And I totally sound like a broken record most days, especially after school. I'm reading Positive Discipline A-Z and it suggested that parents who talk too much have children who don't listen well.

Food for thought. Perhaps I can learn not to re-pete so often.

Oh, The Places You'll Go!

Earlier this month we celebrated Mallorie's fourth birthday with a candle in her breakfast waffle, presents, and an afternoon BBQ with the extended family on the following Monday.

Four crisp dollar bills! Julie and Jim from next door joined the party and always give my kids new bills to match their birthday age. I wonder how long that will continue....

She is such a delightful little person (though she detests being called "little." She prefers the size of "medium"). Full of energy with a contagious laugh, Mallorie has really come out of her shell these last few months - she expressed an interest in learning her alphabet letters and is learning quickly how to spell her name and identify and write said letters. The level of detail in her pictures and the care with which she colors impresses many parents and teachers. There are many hours spent coloring and drawing at the bar in our kitchen.

She is totally into her ballet/tap class she started a few weeks ago and is probably one of the cutest "taparinas" ever - her face reflects a level of concentration and joy while she is learning the different positions or skipping across the dance floor with her little classmates.

 I never know where she will be when I check on the girls before I go to bed. This is pretty tame compared to some of her sleeping positions...

She has mastered riding her scooter and is willing to try and learn the balance bike. This medium sized girls loves to help and is a great support to Spencer, even though he may not always appreciate her efforts! My little snugglebug, she gives the best morning cuddles. And the halls of the house are often filled with the sounds of her chatter and songs.

Mallorie chose to have a hot air balloon cake this year, and thanks to Pinterest, I was able to create a fun one! Which reminded me of the Dr. Seuss book Oh, the Places You'll Go. That became my underlying theme and I now want to decorate our toy room with inspirational Dr. Seuss quotes.

The party wouldn't be complete without a few other balloons hanging around the house. They now reside in a pink cluster above her bed.

Happy birthday, Mallorie! I'm excited to see the places you'll go in the days and years to come. We love you!

9/11

Nothing could have prepared me for the 6:45 am wake up call from my best friend and college roommate. She was wide awake and animatedly chattering about how a place had flown into a building just a few minutes before. Unsure what all the fuss was about, I followed her up the stairs of our college house to sit on the beat up couch with my 5 roommates. On TV, thick, black smoke was billowing from one of towers of the World Trade Center in NYC. As we watched, mouths open, a second plane flew into the other tower, sending a second plume of smoke into the blue sky. The news cast was going crazy as the series of events continued to unfold. Images of dust covered people running through debris-strewn streets, crushed vehicles, people launching themselves from windows 40 stories above ground, the collapse of first one then the second tower will linger in my memory for years to come. Two other commercial planes were hijacked - one was flown into the Pentagon in Washington D.C. and the second was crashed into the ground somewhere in Pennsylvania by passengers who caught wind of a terrorist plot.

That was 15 years ago and I can recall the morning clearly.

Of the six roomates with whom I lived, most had significant others and spent time at his or her apartment. Rarely were the six of us home at the same time, especially on a school morning. That particular morning, we were all home. And glued to the television. 

Classes were cancelled and no one was on the road to Moscow as I reported to work. I don't remember much of the rest of the day except that we all stayed tuned into the news. We chatted to make sense of the attack on our country, listened to our leaders promise to find the source of the attack, and prayed for those who were searching and needing to be found in the massive pile of rubble. I didn't personally know anyone who had been lost in the chaos and it felt....disrespectful...to return to work and school like normal the next day. I was in one piece, house intact, living in a small college town where the sun shone on the recently harvested wheat fields and my safety was never in question. Across the country, my fellow citizens had just had their world turned upside down.

Rescue Dog Transport at Ground Zero

I didn't love what happened on that day. I did love how our country came together, how being American meant something again, how we coalesced into a people proud to carry the Stars and Stripes. And I appreciate the memorial which was created in honor of the fallen.

Seeing the images from that day still puts a knot in the pit of my stomach for reasons I cannot fully understand. I am grateful for the sacrifice of so many - people and canine - who risked their lives for others. For the men and women who continue to serve our country in uniform and protect our freedom. And for that little pit that reminds me, at least once a year, that some things should not be taken for granted.

Losing Track of Time

August left me completely behind and I'm still bewildered as to where the time went. We've had the chance to do some fun things in the last few weeks so here are some photos to document our doings:

Monday I took Mallorie out for a date. She needed things for her upcoming dance class, a new outfit for preschool, and I had to hit Target for some other items. She chose Chick-fil-A for lunch and we got to eat outside. She's such a funny little person with big thoughts, fabulous facial expressions, and a smile that lights up the room. She wanted to do a funny face selfie and then one where we were angry. Side note: we picked up a black leotard with sparkling letters. She proudly shows off her "leotart" to guests in our home.

Spencer loves to help. And organize. And re-organize. He can hear the door to the dishwasher open from across the house and will coming running into the kitchen hollering "Uh! Uh!" to unload the plastic plates. On this particular evening, I had left him happily playing with the plastic plates to supervise pjs for the girls. This is what greeted me as I rounded the corner into the kitchen - he had unloaded pretty much every dish and most of the silverware on the bottom rack. As I watched, he would pick up an item and relocate it in a different spot on the floor, shuffling plates and knives and forks in an order known only to him. He was content to help me load the dishes back into their proper spot and then turned into a puddle when I shut the dishwasher door.

How could I not share this adorable-ness? I took the younger kids for a walk to get Morgan from the bus stop - Luna and Perry were at our house for a while. I wish I could tape the sounds of these two jabbering as we were walking. Brings a smile to my face!

The Spirit of Boise Balloon Classic is a mini hot air balloon festival (think about 45 balloons) which began in 1991 as a part of the Boise River Festival. While by no means the spectacular spread of colors, people, vendors, and balloons of the Balloon Fiesta in Albuquerque, I was so excited to have found out about the event before it took place! I spent several birthdays in my childhood attending fiesta events in October and want to make this part of the birthday weekend for Mallorie in the future. Chadwick got stuck at the clinic working on a dog who had ingested a foreign body so I loaded up the kids, hit the drive thru at Wendy's, and made my way to Ann Morrison park downtown Boise for the balloon glow. We got there early enough for a decent parking spot and had way too much time on our hands. Especially since I neglected to bring coloring books, balls, or any other form of entertainment for the littles to do while impatiently waiting for the sun to set. Despite the whining, the kids seemed to enjoy the time out and I was rewarded with a squeal of glee when the night sky was brightly lit with 25 balloons. The announcer would count down and the pilots would give a massive pull on their ignitor to set the balloon aglow with light. Pause. Countdown and glow. Repeat.

We did some dancing. And wrestling. Then some singing as Spencer was starting to melt down with exhaustion.

The girls started collecting...plant material....they called cricket eggs.

Getting darker! And a little colder. Morgan has her sweater on backward and is holding the hood in her hand to protect the "cricket eggs" from the storm.

Three....two....one....GLOW!

The view in my backseat as we got into the driveway.