holding hands

Because I want to record and remember:

On the way home from school today E put his right hand on the stroller. His tugging makes it harder for me to push, so I usually try to take his hand in mine instead. Sometimes he lets go instantaneously but other times he will hold my hand in return for a moment or two. This was one of those some times.

We held hands and for several seconds. I relished the hint of a cool breeze, the perfectly warm and cloudy afternoon, the little goose on her bike, the babe in the stroller, and the five year-old boy who will still take my hand in his for brief snatches of time. My sunshine, my darling pie, and my bubby. I would be so lost and lonesome without them. They bring me such joy even when I feel so utterly undeserving of it.

It looks like it has been over a year since I wrote in this space. It truly is the best time of year. October and fall. My baby is now eleven months old and sleeping better than ever, so I am hoping some hopes that I can figure out what to do with all these words that need to get out of me. I miss writing and hope it will start to come back to me as I am diligent and honest.

most wonderful time of the year

photo taken last year, 

somewhere between Aspen Grove and Stewart Falls

Nope.  Christmastime is pretty wonderful.  But it's the fall days right now that make my heart soar. 

Just over a year ago my body made it to the top of Timp (and then some, about 20 miles hiking in all).  Now I waddle with the weight of this unborn boy when I venture out for my morning walks.  I wonder sometimes how I might ever be able to run again and be strong enough to summit a mountain.  Papi carried the goose in the pack for a short hike on Sunday morning.  We only had about 40 minutes because I was letting the cinnamon roll dough rise.  But it was just enough fresh, cool air to revive me and invite me to pray thanksgivings for the beauty of this earth at this time of year.  

Oh how I'm soaking up living so close to my parents right now.  Who knows where we'll be in a year or two?  We have no idea.  I truly hope we'll still be around, but if not, then let me be so grateful for a father who will port my daughter and for a mother who texted me Saturday night, "What are you guys up to?"  I called her and said we were just getting dinner on and I had actually been wondering what she was up to because I wanted to come up and let the kids run around in the backyard.  She had a better idea.  Swim lesson.  The kids were in heaven.  I just love this picture I got of them.  

Oh, how I love Marmee.  Both my parents never stop giving.  My thank yous never feel like enough, so I'll keep striving to emulate all their kindness and goodness.  

morning happiness along with whatever else is on my mind

Morning happiness is when you hear the kids' bedroom door and big brother comes out and beelines it out for little sister.  Straightaway he says, "Good morning Sissy," and gives her the sweetest and biggest hug.

I've felt super spacey today.  I'm having a hard time focusing and holding on to thoughts.  I should probably just go to bed.  But there are a few things I'd like to remember and write about now because if I don't then they'll be gone.

I made a select few Christmas cards this year to send out.  After I addressed them, I was sad I didn't have one for my Gma and Gpa Clark.  I have one for all the other gparents (greats to our kids), but not one for them.  Every time I drive up Center Street in Orem, I feel the same way.  I miss them.  It's strange knowing I won't ever sit on their couch again or venture down into the basement with its vibrant green carpet.  I miss their smiles and their hugs.

E is lots of fun.  He built various creations with our tissue boxes about a month ago.  Yesterday when I was prepping dinner, he asked if he could play with the spice carousel.  I set it on the table for him and he went right to work getting creative.  Such joy.

please to be noticing Strongbad fitting in the wooden spatula's hole

We had a great time hanging out with PNTHK while they were here.  E and H were fast friends and got crazy together pretty quickly, as young boys are wont to do.  I loved seeing them hold hands as they sang "Jingle Bells" on Temple Square.  H was singing the Batman version while E kept repeating this line over and over: "Jingle bells, jingle bells, all the way to Bethlehem."

We rode frontrunner up to see the lights.  It was such a warm night that I was in shock.  It was really crowded but we still had a good time.

Well, I better get to bed.  Merry Christmastime.  It's getting more and more fun each year to decorate and anticipate holidays with the kids.  E and H have loved the lights on our tree and have loved "decorating" our home for Christmas.

it's only 7:30 a.m.

but because of daylight savings I've been up since 5:30.  I really don't understand this time change thing.  I get up when the kids do and yet now it's an hour earlier.  I do like it being light outside earlier in the morning, but it seems it really doesn't last too long anyway because winter descends coldly and darkly.  I really don't like how dark it will be at 5:30 tonight.  Aargh.

Anyway, the greatest thing about this morning was when E woke up.  Hattie had already been up for an hour, but when Eamon came bounding out his door, he bee-lined for Hattie.  He gave her a kiss right on the lips and asked if she wanted to play ring-around-the-rosies.  His eyes hadn't fully opened from the effects of sleep and yet here he was, holding Hattie's hands and spinning around so happily.

season

This season of life I'm in doesn't really feel like a season to me.  More like: one long day after another.  With some rather long nights peppered in there for extra seasoning.

But these days!  These nights!  And these days!  Even if I could trade them for anything, I would not.

"Nothing gold can stay."  I remember my ninth grade English teacher quoting this poem to us.  A decade and a half later, my baby brother stands taller than me and will turn 16 in a week.  So they do grow up.  Or at least begin to.  These children.  These babies.

At 17 months H invented a new game today.  I call this game Baby.  I hold her in my arms.  She looks at me and says, "Baby," about five times.  She then falls limp so I will cradle her.  I rock her and say, "Baby, baby, baby.  I love you."  She closes her eyes, opens them, and looks at me.  She sits up and smacks her lips to share a kiss with me.  It's so ironic to me.  My baby playing baby.

And this boy who is now closer to four than three, is also such a delight.  His stories, creations, and sweetness leave me wordlessly astounded.  "I'm this many pounds tall, Mom," he said as stretched himself to stand up as straight as he could.  I love his imagination and seeing it work.

I know I'll probably be kicking myself for letting the dishes in the sink remain there overnight, but we took a drive up the canyon to visit Andrew's grandparents.  It felt so nice to give and receive hugs.  We even got to see Andrew's uncle.  Instead of dishes we chose relationships tonight.  And I'm choosing further to write some words because my soul feels starved for writing of late.  I would love to write about all the many countless moments that leave me with a pure sense of wonderment and peace, but it's in the everyday.  And I haven't yet found the time to write every day.

I'm not sure if I agree wholeheartedly in Frost's sentiment that nothing gold can stay because this is how I'm sustained.  These peaceful and heavenly moments help me move onward and upward.  They stay.  They rest within the memories of my heart and mind, and, truly, I feel them each time I share a genuine hug.

 20 September 2014

Summit of Mount Timpanogos

 20 September 2014

en route from Aspen Grove to Stewart Falls

my rays of sunshine

We were all wearing yellow this morning (except for Andrew).  I had my Minnesota Gophers shirt on, so the three of us were yellow delights.  This is Eamon's cheesy cheeseball face.  Oh I love these two so much.  We had a nice Sunday stroll with cousin Asher to the duck pond.  We might just make this a Sunday tradition; we enjoyed it last Sunday as well.  I don't know if we'll venture out with heaps of snow on the ground, but for now it's a great outing to get some wiggles out before church.

"bird by bird"

I've been reading Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Life and Writing by Anne Lamott.  It's helping me have some desire to write again.  I feel so out of practice in the writing realm, and I could give a million excuses, but that would be so dull.  Well, perhaps I'll be a tad bit dull.  One excuse: I get discouraged with my lack of "free time."  And when I do have some spare moments, I usually feel too tired to pull together any coherent thoughts.  But writing on here makes me feel like I'm actually working on something and I can type much faster than I can long-handedly string sentences together.

So we'll try out a little session tonight and hope to spark some consecutive nights of writing, though I do prefer ink and paper.  I won't always type everything up on here.

Today Hattie saw a bird for the first time.  Sure, it wasn't her very first encounter with a bird, but she looked up, unblinking as the bird hopped from fence to tree.  She pointed and squawked to get me to look as well.  Her eyes shone happier than her mouth.  Those blues with an inner ring of golden yellow.  Oh, how I love those eyes.

And the boy, that Eamon boy.  These kids of mine fill up my days, and sometimes my nights, to the brim.  Laughter, impatience, smiles, frustration, hugs, wrestlings, peace.  I watch him as he falls asleep.  He turns onto his right side and puts his hands together in a prayer-like position.  I fake yawn sometimes just to hear him echo his own in response.  He picks his nose slowly and then slower and slower, and his eyes remain lightly closed.

There's some from the present.  How 'bout a little from the past.

Summertime.  We'd go to the library with mom.  We each had our own library card and we'd go down into the basement of the Provo library to get our fill.  I would check out at least 15 books and try to impress the librarian checking out my books.  I don't know how impressive Sweet Valley High or Babysitter's Club really are or were or ever have been, but I was reading.  I was a reader.  Upon arriving home, we would drag out a few of mom's huge quilts into the shade of the willow trees.  And read.  Mom always made it fun by fixing a special treat.  Popcorn, maybe?  I honestly have no recollection.  I do remember, though, the feel of the grass through the blanket on my legs and elbows.  I remember the thrill of reading for hours.  The joy and the peace that came from escaping into a place different and away.