A Renewal

I had one high expectation this summer...that I wouldn't feel worn down by the beginning of August like I usually do. I have fallen terribly short of reaching that expectation.

I am extremely worn down.
I am snappy, and ornery, and I honestly daydream about becoming "one of those mothers" that runs away. You know the kind. The ones that don't come back into their children's lives until they are grown adults.

There. I've admitted my weakness out loud, and it already feels better to admit it aloud. (Well, I did also admit it to Mike last week. Problem was, I think he was concerned I was serious. Which I guess I kind of was. It had been one of those days.) Somehow it is therapeutic to write out my weakness for everyone to see. Besides writing on this blog, is cheaper than a good hour with a therapist.

Anyway, I digress. This was and is intended to be a lovely, beautiful uplifting post, where the joy of motherhood oozes from the words. So let's try again.

This evening I decided to go on a bike ride with my three boys. (I had intended to go alone, but that didn't happen...) A little way into it, Luke offered to return home with Drew and let me enjoy it without Drew cutting me off and making me have to brake every few inches. Joshua and I continued the bike road alone. It was a lovely cool (for August) evening and Joshua and I rode along for 5 miles or so.

I didn't have my phone with me, so I wasn't able to capture a photo. But I'm actually glad about that. Sometimes mind photos are the best anyway.

Joshua rode ahead of me much of the way, his small little bum going side to side as he stood on his pedals riding as fast as his little legs would go. On our return home, I was reminded of exercising with Joshua and Drew years ago. This particular moment I recorded HERE came to mind. And I was suddenly thrust into a sentimental memory while my little boy ahead of me pedaling reminded me how quickly the years have passed since he was a barely three year old child running ahead of his stroller.

Joshua is my sweet child. Caught alone with that boy, he reminds me of all that is good, peaceful and beautiful in the world. He is the peacemaker and the giver of the family. The more passive personality among the assertive companions he lives with. Joshua is an antithesis of his mother.

As we rode along on our bikes tonight, a bench up ahead caught my eye and I called ahead to Joshua to wait for me at the bench. And then we stopped, relaxed and visited together. We sat side by side on the bench, with Joshua's red mohawk helmet on his head and enjoyed the views of the beautiful mountains I love. The same mountains I look at daily from my kitchen and family room windows, they are stalwart and un-moving and  rarely a day goes by that I don't look at them in some metaphorical, deep way.

Joshua and I then raced home on our bikes. Joshua clearly beat me by a long-shot and I was greeted with a big trademark Joshua smile as I approached the trail head.

Whether it was Joshua, the mountains, the fresh air, or a tender mercy from God that refreshed my heavy heart tonight doesn't matter. What matters is I am reminded to keep showing up, and to keep pressing forward. Motherhood isn't supposed to be easy. Neither is summer vacation. But sometimes those brief moments come along and I'm reminded that it isn't as complicated and hard as it so often seems. This quote by President Uchtdorf in one of my favorite talks ever reminds me, "There is a beauty and clarity that comes from simplicity that we sometimes do not appreciate in our thirst for intricate solutions."

My blog has been somewhat neglected this summer, but I am reminded tonight, that when I take the time to put my thoughts and feelings into words, things just feel better. And even though tomorrow I'll still have arguing children, crumbs on the counter, abandoned socks in every room, and pee on the toilet seat, my children are only young once. These days will not last forever.

I know that.
I need to remember it every minute of every day.

The days are long, but the years are short.

A Rare Occasion

There are A LOT of things I could say about our trip to St. George last week where we spent time with my parents, all three of my brothers and their families. Only the oldest cousin, Caleb was missing from the weekend.

I'm not going to detail all the things we did. Especially not the part about all 7 of us squeezed into a hotel room the first night. In fact, it shouldn't be called a hotel, it wouldn't even pass as a motel, but thankfully it only lasted one night. Enough about that.

Outside my favorite St. George store...Judds.

Sometimes while we picnic at sunset in the red rocks, the kids go and play/hike/explore, and I beg for Mike's sweatshirt because I am cold, and then take a picture of ourselves. Not necessarily all in that order.

St. George has a fabulous children's museum that is FREE. Free!! Very entertaining for adults and children alike.

Free bounce houses at the city park.

McDonalds with a crowd. 

Mexican restaurant with only the adults!

This several hour picnic and playtime at the park was one of my highlights. I absolutely love seeing large groups of people at parks having big get-togethers. I love even more when I am part of such a group.

While my brothers, Casey and James were innocently standing eating their dinner and talking to each other, I found myself choked up with emotion as I looked at them. They are men! Dads! The age gap between them and me has always been large enough that I often feel more "motherly" towards them, than "sisterly." My two little boys, Joshua and Drew so frequently remind me of my brothers, and seeing Casey and James standing there together the other night made me realize how quickly time is indeed passing.

Ellie and the sunset at the redrocks.

Too bad there are no pictures of my brother and I engaged in a game of Speed, and my subsequent loss. There are no photos of the kids swimming. In fact there are no photos of a lot of things we did, despite this little mini-vacation being a once in life-time event. It will likely never be replicated. And that's okay...

There will always be the photos in my mind.

Father's Day, AKA Provo Day

Our opportunity to go to the MTC  coincided with Father's Day, and the day Megan needed to check into BYU for a Summer Music Festival (more on that later). After our Father's Day festivities that morning, albeit slightly rushed, as Mike decided that was his one day a year he was going to sleep in, we headed down to Provo.

We were not able to attend the MTC as a full family (thank goodness!). Mike and the three younger children could have stayed home and attended our own church, or even attended one of the million church services in Provo, but instead they played hooky from church services, and enjoyed exploring the many parks (with play toys) of Provo while Megan, Luke, and I got some religion.

It turned out to be a pleasant day. One of those days that made me smile. Of course it wasn't without fighting and bickering in the car, or any of the other dramas that occur when a family of seven embarks on a field trip.

(Provo LDS temple)

We enjoyed a picnic at a park, actually I think it was a school playground, but all the same to the children.

Somewhere along Mike and the children's explorations of the BYU campus, Drew acquired a sprinkler flag with BYU on it. It was funny when Drew said to Luke, "I do like BYU now not Utah." (Referring to the University of Utah/BYU rivalry.) I'm actually still trying to figure out how Drew even knows a rivalry exists, I'm sure it is due to having a big brother.

We were able to visit Mike's Uncle Sherm and Aunt Karen while we were in Provo. Later that night, the visit to "Uncle Sherm's" was among the top highlights of each of the children's report of the day. I think it was the 3 bowls of candy Aunt Karen laid out on the coffee table for them, but the children maintain it wasn't the candy. It was a very enjoyable time we spent with them, wish we saw more of them.

(Uncle Sherm took this family photo of us. Why didn't we think to take a photo of them in it!?!)

Upon arriving home late Sunday evening, sans Megan. Mike and I sat outside on the patio while the 4 children played remarkably well together for quite some time. Eating left-over ice cream cake from our Father's Day celebration the night before with my parents, I suddenly realized I never got our traditional photo of Mike and the children on Father's Day.

But then I realized, Mike was the mastermind behind much of Sunday's goodness. He willingly explored parks and the BYU campus with the younger children, he initiated the visit with his aunt and uncle, he kept the picnic food and sandwich cutting under control, and kept spirits high by doing questionable (to me) activities like driving on the BYU stadium sidewalk much to the glee of the children, and other such Mike things.

A good dad in action is far more touching on Father's Day, than a photo with children. My children are pretty lucky kids.

End of an Era

Joshua attended afternoon kindergarten this year. Although we are 'bus eligible' there is no bus to school for PM kindergarten. I drove him to school every day.

Each day after getting out of the car, (the exception being the 5 days this spring that I had to walk him into the school and have the teacher 'peel' him off of me) he would ran as fast as he could to the kindergarten doors. His little "car flame" backpack that covers the whole of his back and half of his bum swinging behind him as his legs kicked up and ran.

Each day it was the same routine: him hop out of the car, say our goodbyes, him close the door, and off he would go. Just as he'd get to the corner to turn, he'd look back and wave. Every single day.

As much as I dislike the kindergarten half day schedule, there is something about having a child finish it that feels sad to me. The end of kindergarten is really the end of an era. To me, 'real school' begins the day a child starts first grade..

As I drove Joshua to kindergarten today, it was just me and him. As he closed the door following our regular routine, he started to run. I became very sentimental (and a little teary) as I realized this was the last day I'd ever see this particular scene, that without really thinking about it before, had become a tender and special part of my days.

I wanted to etch his fast running into kindergarten permanently into my mind, and hold it as a precious mind memory for years to come. Wanting to additionally capture it more permanently than only in my mind, I got out of the car to take a picture. Perhaps sensing my emotional state, Joshua turned around to wave a little earlier than usual, and saw me standing there with a camera in hand.

He never started running again, instead he was too busy questioning what exactly I was doing taking a photo of him.

I didn't try to explain it to him. He wouldn't understand.
Only a mother could.

A Few of March's Little Things

Despite all the other things that crowd into our lives as a busy family, I really have tried to stop and observe and bask in the Little Things the last few days as I've challenged myself to do for the month of March.

Sometimes I grabbed a camera, other times I wished I had one, and there were a few times I didn't want to spoil the moment and instead took a mind picture. I basked in more moments than these ones below, but here a few of my efforts.

~ Walking into the grocery store with my two little boys at my side each holding my hand. I didn't say, "hurry" nor did I rush them along. I walked slowly with the boys at my side and basked in the fact they were with me swinging their arms, and jumping their feet. (I only have three children left that will still instinctively grab for my hand.)
~ The girls working together in the kitchen making caramel popcorn to take to a hot dog roast with the neighbors.

~ Drew's excitement and contentment in placing some free stickers that came in the mail.

~ Ellie carrying Drew on her hip and comforting him while he cried, "Joshua kicked my chin."

~ The children laughing hysterically while Mike gave horse-rides, and/or bucked them off.

~ Drew insisting of going to the mailbox with me and riding Joshua's scooter alongside me with regular requests of "wait for me."
~ Playing a game of Rummikub with Ellie and her doing cartwheels in between her turns.
~ Megan using mock concentration as she demonstrated how to release a bundt cake from the pan and us laughing when it didn't work.
~ Luke trying to squelch a huge smile when some old motor scooters gifted from a neighbor's brother started running again. He couldn't stop grinning every time he rode them, or even mentioned them.

It has made a difference to slow down and bask in the moment for even just a minute. It seems that in those moments I forget the crumbs under the kitchen table, or the only half-effort done chores and in full clarity I am reminded,

The days are long, but the years are short. 

Love is a Wonderful Thing

(Lily, August 2012)

Yesterday I wrote a total of 4 1/2 pages in my personal journal throughout the course of the day. I thought that a lot of what I wrote would eventually be turned into a blog post, but I have decided instead to leave most of my most tender feelings and thoughts in my personal journal alone.

However, there are a few things I would love to share. Namely, how wonderful the act of loving is. As I said to Ellie yesterday, "I think that our ability to love others is one of the greatest gifts we have been given in this life."

I will not start by giving the heart-wrenching and traumatic events that my dear son, Luke went though yesterday, but instead begin with the fact that Lily, Luke's beloved goat spent much of yesterday morning and afternoon laying on our family room floor. From the first events that occurred and even still today, I have been overwhelmed with thoughts of one word and the definition of that word I have seen displayed over and over in the last 36 hours.
Love

(Luke and Lily, January 2013)

Love
Luke spent hours yesterday lovingly by Lily's side, covering her with warm blankets, feeding her water, rubbing her body and legs, changing out towels, never leaving her side.

Love
Ellie's tears as she walked into the school, concerned about the condition of a goat. Not that it is the goat Ellie has such a fondness for, but the love she felt towards her big brother was obvious.

Love
The love of a parent that was so tender and real, that I felt emulate from Mike on the phone when he burst into tears and said, "I feel so bad for Luke." Immediately I began to cry too, and Mike told me he no longer thought Lily would recover.

Love
Walking into the house minutes after that phone call and seeing Luke laying on the family room floor. Nose to nose with Lily, his arm around her head sobbing. It is a picture I declined to take with the camera, but most certainly took in my mind.

Love
Mike and I sitting nearby on the couch, crying too, each taking turns to periodically lay down next to Luke to comfort Luke as he comforted Lily.

Love
Mike quietly, and almost reverently, every few minutes checking Lily's heartbeat.

Love
The heart-wrenching cries that came from Luke when Mike, while kneeling close to Lily and Luke whispered, "She's gone now."

Love
Me sitting on the couch holding Luke close to me, both of us quietly crying while Mike lovingly, silently and reverently wrapped Lily in a purple and white bed sheet.

Love
Within minutes of Luke answering his dear friend, Paul's question of, "How is Lily?", Mike, Luke and I see Paul in the very cold (not even teen temperatures), and of course through 15+ inches of snow, silently digging a burial spot for Luke's beloved Lily. Within moments, Mike joined Paul in the field and began digging too. (Bless Luke's heart, he picked up a shovel to begin digging too, until I whispered to him that he didn't have to help.) Tears streamed down my cheeks as Luke and I stood nearby watching two men who dearly, dearly love Luke perform an act of service in his behalf.

Love
Watching Paul help Mike as he gently carried Lily,  still wrapped carefully in the sheet to her burial spot. Paul took Lily from Mike and climbed into the hole to place her. After looking at Luke for his approval, Mike and Paul silently began covering the hole in with frozen dirt.

Love
Seeing Megan break down in tears as Mike told her of Lily's death. Listening to Megan tearfully say, "I'm just so so sad for Luke.

Love
The subdued atmosphere in our home Monday evening as everyone seemed to treat each other a little more kindly and a little more gently.

Love
Mike and I taking it in turns to lay next to Luke in bed as he cried himself to sleep.

Love
Mike and I coming to a new understanding of the depths of love for our son, and our deep desire to carry his pain entirely ourselves if we could.

Love
The fact that me, a once complete non-animal lover, has a soft spot in my heart for the animals my son so dearly loves.

One of the many prayers offered yesterday said, by I think Drew, was: "Thank you we can love Lily."

I think we always will.

My Baby, A Sunbeam

I don't typically take photos at church. In fact, I never have before, until this last Sunday, when I had to borrow a friend's phone to do so.

I'll explain/justify/rationalize why now.

In our church we have an organization for the children, ages 18 months-11 years old called Primary. From 18 months-3 years old they attend a Nursery class, then the children officially join the older children in Primary the January following their 3rd birthday. They join the 3 year old class known as, the Sunbeams. It's kind of a big milestone.

It's an even bigger milestone when you're the baby of the family. As is my little Drew.

I am one of the Primary leaders, and as I sat in the back of the Primary room on Sunday, I noticed Drew's little legs swinging under his chair. My very first thought was, his feet are going to touch the ground soon!

I know I talk a lot about taking "mind pictures," and this moment was certainly one of those mind memories I'll forever have. But there just seemed to be something about my baby, sitting on the front row of Primary that made my eyes get all misty, and I had to ask my friend if she had a cell-phone I could borrow.

A few seats over from Drew sat Drew's little friend. I thought about it being his first day in Primary too. I thought about his mom, my good friend, and wondered how it felt for her sending her oldest to Primary.

I remember Megan's first day in Primary in January of 2002. Mike and I were team-teachers in a Primary class back then, and we sat in the back of the room, while Megan, wearing a little knit purple floral Baby Gap dress sat on the front row. I had no camera to take a photo of her then, and even if I had have had one with me, I likely wouldn't have taken a photo. I don't think I would have known back then what exactly I was taking a photo of.

Although I clearly took a mind picture 11 years ago of Megan's first day in Primary in her little purple dress. I remember little else of that day. This last Sunday, it wasn't the picture of Drew in his black sweater vest, and crisply ironed shirt I wanted to capture. It was those swinging legs of his that are too short to touch the ground.

Perhaps Megan's legs didn't touch the ground either. It's likely Luke, Ellie and Joshua's didn't either on their first official day of Primary. But there was something about those swinging legs of my baby, that brought it all into perspective. In that moment, those little swinging legs reminded me of my oft-repeated phrase, the days are long, but the years are short.

Nothing illustrates that favorite phrase of mine more, than my baby reaching milestones.

Ellie's Dream

Ellie is 8 years and 3 months old, and still adores playing with baby dolls. I know not all girls her age still do. In fact, I'm pretty sure by 8 years old, Megan's were long put away. Not the case with Ellie. With Ellie there is always a baby doll, a baby blanket, a car seat or some doll paraphernalia lying around. Saturday afternoon, the boys decided to play outside in the water but Ellie opted not to. At first, I wasn't sure why in the world she wouldn't want to participate, but then I got it. Without anyone really knowing, she was "being the mom."

She pulled up a small chair, gathered her baby, convinced Joshua to "join the game" and "mothered" on the side.

For the record, I was being a mother at the other end of the patio too. But instead of babying anyone, I had my feet up on a chair, a book on my lap and a delicious sugar cookie hidden within its pages.  I would occasionally look up when a child said, "Watch me, mom!"

Ellie on the other hand was really mothering. I could overhear the "motherly" conversation she was having with Joshua. And I loved that he was whining to her about wanting to swim with the other boys, and not to me. (How she held him off from swimming sooner I will never know!)

As I glanced over at Ellie lovingly lay her baby in the baby carrier, so she could attend to Joshua, I began to wonder if I have ever really written about that baby carrier thing. At about the same time, Joshua asked, "Ellie where did you get that car seat from?" As I listened to her reply, I knew I had to put down my book (careful to hide my sugar cookie from any tempting fingers or spying eyes) and snap a photo.

In Ellie's words (said with a mature-I'm-a-mother-not-your-sister-tone of voice), "I got the car seat when I was 3 or 4 but the handle broke. So then I found the basket to put it in once. I got the car seat cover for Christmas when I was 6."

That car seat/basket will surely never end up being given away to a thrift store like so many other belongings do. It is a keeper for sure.

I'm really not sure how much longer we will so frequently see Ellie in a chair rocking a baby doll, or carting around this basket. But I will be sad when it is over. Not only because it will mean Ellie is growing up and leaving one of my favorite little girl stages, but because I will no longer have a visual reminder of what I am doing.

A visual reminder that I wanted the exact same thing as she did.
A visual reminder that my little girl dream to grow up and be a mother came true.
And some days, I need that.

One of the deepest desires of my heart, is that her dreams come true too.

Nothings and Everythings

The other night as I was grilling meat, I looked out across our back yard and couldn't help but smile. I would have grabbed my camera, but I don't like my steaks well-done and so I took a mind picture instead.

All of my own children were outback with four additional children from the neighborhood. Most were on the trampoline, a couple were in the sandbox and of course Drew was on his four-wheeler. As I surveyed the scene in my mind, I couldn't help but smile. I love that my children entertain themselves daily.

We don't own any game systems, we have no cable or satellite television, and for the most part my children have no interest in playing on the computer (unless it is Sunday and they all fight for "The Friend" site on lds.org.) Due to a fairly limited budget, we don't do a lot of "stuff", but Mike is continually helping me realize that what we do do, is every bit as good. My children have fantastic imaginations and abilities to find something to do when some of their peers are saying, "There's nothing to do."

For example:
They build chicken coops:
When Luke had his cast removed last week, I agreed completely with the doctor when he said, "That's disgusting." Obviously he doesn't know that Luke really isn't a typical 10 year old boy in 2012. He is probably much more similar to a 10 year old boy in 1912 or even 1812.

For example: I'm not sure how many 10 year old patients they have that while their parents were at a sister's track meet, the 10 year old decides to build a chicken coop entirely by himself and move his chickens from across the street to our back yard.

Ever heard the phrase "It's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission"? Guess Luke has that principle mastered now.

They don't get dressed very often
Drew continues to wear only his underwear, although he is getting quite good at understanding the rule that he must wear clothes outside of our yard. We haven't perfected the rule or routine, and he is still frequently found streaking the cul-de-sac in just underwear. Unfortunately he thinks the great outdoors is his toilet bowl, and so there may be the odd occasion you see him stark naked.

Oh, but if Drew plays in wet mud like he did yesterday, he doesn't really matter if he is wearing just his underwear. The mud covered him pretty well, so perhaps no one noticed he was only wearing underwear to start with. (Sorry no photo! I was driving off to an appointment, and I guess the 13 year old doesn't see the potential for a memory like a mother does-and sees a gross chore to take care of instead. Thanks too Megan for putting him in the shower!)

Joshua on the other hand adores the days we have nowhere to go (or at least he doesn't have to get out of the car) and can stay in his pajamas all day. It makes me crazy! CRAZY! But I'm trying to realize it doesn't matter all that much in the long run.

They aren't hard to please
Rarely do I drink soda, but the other day while driving home from somewhere with the girls, I decided to stop and get a fountain rootbeer from a nearby gas station. My girls politely asked for a slurpee, and when I saw they were on a special for 39 cents, I obliged. Then in a pure moment of spontaneity, I decided to "splurge" and bought one to take home for everyone.

You'd have thought I'd have come home with a million bucks for them. My kids thought it was the coolest thing ever to have a slurpee from the gas station. Guess we don't get out much...

It's too bad Mike was home a few minutes earlier than usual and missed out on any gas station treat, but I kindly gave him a few sips of my rootbeer as penitence.

We entertain ourselves
I have mixed feelings about not having a photo of our family trampoline jumping activity on Sunday. The mere thought of neighbors seeing us, is probably enough to be grateful we have no permanent proof. I'm quite glad I don't know what the 500lb + sight of weight jumping up and down on the trampoline at one time looked like. Although the laughter, smiles and sounds captured could have been a great photo opp. (Sometimes I daydream of being followed around by a photographer capturing those great family moments that are impossible to capture oneself.)

I kind of wish I had a photo of Mike and how high he could jump. He's always bragging (okay, just sometimes) to our kids about his great jumping/slam-dunking abilities as a teenager, so imagine those skills on a trampoline. I refused to take a photo of him, because with every jump all I saw was the potential for a medical emergency and I would have hated for the picture to be reason enough for an insurance to deny a claim for his stupidity talent. If you don't count the case of motion sickness I went to bed with that night, it was surprisingly an accident free event.

Okay, lest one think it is all chicken coops, slushies and jumping around here, it isn't. Case in point, the family trampoline jumping event was after our children had come into our room about 36 times interrupting a fight Mike and I were having to ask "how much longer are you going to be?"

It's what we do.
The fighting included.

POST-EDIT--It's always a fabulous thing when the neighbor sends a photo to capture one's stellar parenting skills...

Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow

Another one of those times I wished I had a photo to capture the memory, but will instead forever be a 'mind memory'...

A few weeks ago, as an outdoor party with a live band winded down, Mike and I found ourselves sitting in a chair each with one of our little boys asleep on our laps. The fall air was crisp, the sun had gone down, people were slowly anticipating the end of a grand evening. As the band played out the strains of a slow song, I watched a young couple in a lovers embrace. And then before the stanza even finished, hand in hand, this young couple skipped down the driveway. Now I know this couple quite well, and I know skipping is not typical behavior for them. But filled with the jovialness of a crisp fall evening, hand in hand I watched the glaring lightness in their step as they made their way down the driveway as though they were first graders on an elementary school playground.

In that instant, I wanted nothing more than for those high school sweethearts to remember that moment FOREVER. Whether or not, they are still in contact with each other in twenty years or so, I want them to remember the lightheartedness with which they skipped, and the carefree thoughts they held as they embraced.

Too quickly real life sets in. All too quickly children turn to teenagers, and teenagers turn to adults. Jobs replace spontaneous dates. Bills replace loose change used at a drive-thru. That young couple in love is on the brink of it all changing. And though those changes bring with them more joy, more fulfillment, and more delight than what they currently have, they don't come with the same lightheartedness and carefreeness as yesteryear.

The young lovers left my line of vision. As much as my mind was focused on wanting them to capture their moment, my heart felt full as I looked down at Joshua asleep on my lap, and Drew asleep on Mike's lap next to me. Mortgage payments, dental bills, and broken appliances aside, life is good.

A Blue Flower

Recently I spent a day attempting to catch up from the events of an extremely busy weekend, plus the myriad of regular routine tasks that fill up a day. After putting Drew down for his afternoon nap, I unashamedly put Joshua in front of the television with a small bowl of candy to guarantee me at least a few minutes of uninterrupted time.

It didn't last long. (I try so hard to get my kids attention span to at least last an entire television show, but it never does!) So then I brought him a bowl of crackers to tempt him for a few more minutes. He wasn't really interested (in the show, of course he was interested in the crackers!).

At this point I was hoping Joshua would soon fall asleep before I depleted the pantry in a vain attempt to complete one more task. Instead, as I passed by my bedroom with a pile of laundry in my hand, it wasn't a sleepy face I saw, it was a forlorn face of a child who needed some attention.

Knowing full well the temperatures outside were hovering right around my favorite numbers on a thermometer, I realized some things could wait and I announced, "Let's go play outside on the swings."

Joshua has an infectious smile. There is just something about his smile that spreads from ear to ear and lights up his eyes, and almost always a small sound escapes his lips. His reaction to my swing suggestion was all of that and more.

After several minutes playing on the swings, Joshua opted to ride his bike and suggested, "You sit and watch me and read your book."

My mind wandered to the novel on the side of my bed that I'd started the previous week and hadn't picked up since. The usual guilt-free thoughts of 'I'm spending one-on-one-time even if I'm reading a book' were dispelled in a second as I was slapped in the face with one simple thought.

How many more times will I push Joshua on a swing? How many more times will it just be me and him on a sunny, fall day with nothing to do but just be together?

You know all those 'firsts' we celebrate -- yet the 'lasts' gradually fade into the routines and progressions of life with barely a notice. (Which really is just as well, most 'lasts' would be far too heartbreaking to acknowledge.)

I couldn't help but think back to pushing Luke on a swing, or watching Megan ride her bike, or even spending a quiet afternoon alone with just Ellie while others were napping or at school. Did I know when I was doing those things, they were the last time?

Before I could change my mind, I told Joshua today I wouldn't be reading my book. I was just going to watch him. And watch him I did. So many times I started to stand up and go inside and grab a camera. I wanted to capture everything about the way Joshua was acting, the way he looked, and the way he played. Anna Quindlen's oft-used quote kept going through my mind,

"But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of the three of them sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6,4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night.  I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less."

I was doing. I wasn't getting anything done, but I was basking in the simple act of doing; watching Joshua play. Even the temptation of a permanent photo memory wasn't enough to pull me away.

I watched Joshua practice his bike skids, I watched him talk to himself as his imagination went full speed, I watched him turn at the sounds of a nearby lawn mower, I just watched him be an active, four year old boy and my heart felt full.

After a while the outside toys no longer held his interest, and after disappearing briefly, Joshua returned outside with a notebook and three crayons. Pulling a chair into the shade, he sat, quietly focused. All the while I just stared at him, wishing I would be able to remember the perfection of this moment later during Joshua's not so perfect moments.

Shocked that this moment could get any more perfect, I heard Joshua ask in a somewhat dazed, quiet voice,
"Can I draw you a brue fower?"

"Of course", I replied.

Once in a while, I get something right. Once in a while, I remember to prioritize what truly matters. Laundry and dinner preparations waited, while I lived in the moment.  I treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less. It was just me, my little boy, and a blue flower.

A perfect afternoon.

Forever In My Mind

Remember last summer when I 'saved the fish' with Luke.  It was a memory I didn't have my camera for, but my mind took a picture.  (You can read the post here, and/or in addition, it was recently posted here.)

I was reminded of mind pictures while exercising this morning.  We were almost half way home, when Joshua asked to get out of the stroller and walk.  Usually I am in too big of a hurry to get home, but today I obliged my three year old.  And oh, I am so glad I did!

A few footsteps earlier, Joshua and I had pointed out the temple up on the hill and and together sung the familiar Primary song, "I Love To See The Temple."   Now, Joshua while running along side of me, was singing (incorrectly),  "I will go and see my far-ver I'll pway and I'll obey..."  His little voice occasionally pausing for a breath as his little feet were trying hard to keep up with mom.

It was one of those mind pictures that I forever hope to see.

Years ago, I started a 'mind picture journal'  I have since neglected it.  (Aagh- I could kick myself for it now.)

Eloquent words and even well taken photos don't ever truly capture and record what our hearts do.  Our 'mind pictures' are the memories I think will stand out the most from our time spent raising young children.

Don't you have some favorite mind pictures?
If not, go capture yourself one, today.

Six Little Fishes Went Swimming One Day . . .

Mike and I arrived home from a viewing last night, dressed in our 'Sunday Best.' We were greeted in the garage by our Toothless Grin Son proudly showing us a five gallon bucket with 6 fishes in that he had just caught during his fishing class.

Outside the garage, the skies were darkening, the wind was blowing, rain was coming and lightning could be seen in the distance. All Luke wanted was to put the fishes in his "Secret Fishing Spot." (Which incidentally, we already had a TINY fish in a fish bowl from earlier that morning he had caught in his "Secret Fishing Spot.") It is only a short ride on the trail behind our house, but carrying a five gallon bucket full of water and trying to avoid lightening strikes, we had a decision to make. We knew the fish would not survive in the bucket until morning.

Personally, I had no cares about the fish, but I didn't want to see the Toothless Grin disappear. As I walked into the house, I heard Daddy suggest, keeping the fish in the bathtub for the night. I'm sure the Toothless Grin got bigger at that point, but I very quickly, volunteered to go change my clothes and ride bikes over to the "Secret Fishing Spot."

Luke and I jumped on our bikes and with me balancing the five gallon bucket filled with water and 6 fish, hoping the lightning would subside for just a while, the wind blowing the hood from my head,and rain falling on us, Mom and Toothless Grin set out to save the fishes.

There are no photographs to capture the memory, I wish there were. But perhaps instead, that Toothless Grin excitement, will be a picture memory I will hold forever in my mind.

It was fitting, as we were riding fast, I heard the little Toothless Grin pedaling quickly behind me say,

'You're the best mom in the whole wide world."