If only we were always this excited!

This is Goose on her first day of kindergarten. I love this picture because she looks so happy and ready to start a new part of her life. I recognize in myself occasionally a lack of enthusiam, and I'm realizing more and more that a downer attitude reaps nothing but more unhappiness.

So here's to having a good day!

This summer has been my busiest in recent memory, chock-full of swimming lessons, errands, braces, newsletters, a Nut Growers' conference, family celebrations, festivals, travels, farewells, dumpsters and now the sweet peeping of baby chicks. It has gone too fast and I find myself wanting to stop time and rewind. I want to capture my children and hold them as close to me as I can. What an unkind paradox that sometimes when you want to hold something so near, your tight grip suffocates and causes pain, rather than showing love. I think about Goose and her fierce loyalty to the neighbor boy. I could do pages on that, btw, but I'm remembering in particular a time that I insisted that she stop playing with him so she could do what I wanted her to do. Instead of happily complying to my wishes when he left, she went into her room and howled and screamed at the separation from her sweet friend.

The big girls have been gone so much. Our home just has a different flavor when they're not here; boring and bland, with a touch of quiet.

The boys have filled their days with books, legos, squabbling and video games.

Husband has been busy with his projects, but he found time to put the Costco laminate down, and I am now so much happier with the floor in my house.

The best thing that has happened this summer I hesitate to mention because it is so precious to me. Beulah and Janey have finally regained their friendship. It is magical and it's a blessing that I will forever cherish.

Magnificent!

Let's just get one thing clear. Husband totally understands about this, making him all the more wonderful a man.
I love Bono. It's not a crush or an infatuation--it is a devotion borne purely out of respect and platonic admiration. Watching Bono walk out onto state last night felt like . . . like a miracle, almost. Here he was, the real thing, out where I could see him with my own two brown eyes. He who had written and sung so many anthems that stirred my sensitivities as a teenager and lifted my spirits as an adult. He was awesome--fun, lithe (I loved how he danced around and lunged forward, cradling the microphone close just like he has in all the concert footage I've seen for 25 years.), passionate and good.
And the rest of the band--it was so perfect. They were incredible and all looked so happy to be there. I saw The Edge pull off guitar riffs that still give me goose bumps. Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!
It was so wonderful having Husband by my side, his arm around me as I screamed my excitement at seeing all these men.
I couldn't escape the feeling that I wanted to run up and hug Bono, and it's funny because when the sister who'd been on stage put her arm around him and pulled him close, I felt like she was doing it for me. I don't ever need to meet Bono--I don't even want to, really. I'm just one of millions of fans who can appreciate a totally good thing.
BTW, sorry for the lame photos. I brought William's camera and wasn't able to use it to its full capacity, I'm sure. Can you spot the photo I lifted from KSL.com?

Spring Comes with a Pinch of Dread

Will this be the year we rent the rototiller? We have "flower beds" surrounding about half of our yard and every year we start spring with a mad application of Round-Up and pick axes, trying to quash the weeds that have miraculously developed under a winter's worth of snow. A few weekends in March go by (some snowy enough to produce an 8 foot-high snowman) and now in the midst of April I've got crabgrass up to my knees lining the perimeter of my yard. Grrrr. A few soggy onions that we neglected to pick last October are showing new green tops. The fennel that we experimented with last year (a colossal failure, by the way; the plants managed to finally grow big and tall but the bulbs that get harvested when fist-size never grew bigger than Brussels sprouts, and then when I decided that I would simply let the plants go to seed so I could collect the fennel, I discovered that while they smelled like licorice, the seeds tasted like splinters) seems to have resurrected itself. I didn't think it was a perrenial plant but all that green fuzz coming up from last year's dead growth suggests otherwise. And there are about 200 million different weeds that have developed everywhere they find soil. Grrrr again. So while I'm not sure how helpful a rototiller actually will be, I have visions of pepper plants and big red tomatoes and golden mounds of butternut squash pushing up out of dark soil with the help of this marvelous machine. A girl's got to dream, after all.

The End of Winter

Today is the first day of spring, gray though it may be. And on my computer and camera are dozens (hundreds, really) of pictures of the different goings on of the past few weeks. We visited the Hutchings Museum for a surprisingly engaging "Night at the Museum," attended a roadshow where Janey played Queen Vanity (hair and make up done by Beulah, who did a far better job than I would have done), made snowmen who lived less than a day, cooked up a mess of baby back ribs and sweet potato fries, and tried to capture the amazing full moon. If I could capture other things on the camera you'd have an image of T-Bone writing essays on U-Write (not his favorite pastime), Janey diligently playing her flute, Beulah furiously studying for FRQs, da boys spending hours twiddling their thumbs on DSes, and Goose listening to increasingly elaborate stories about Princess SweetPea in Cuddlebee Marsh (you have to ask Husband). Speaking of Husband, he's taking a new job soon and furiously studying to pass his Board Certified Test this week. He's excited for something new and I am so proud of him for always treating his customers over the past two years the same way I'd want my grandma to be treated.

Some Pictures

Give Me Patience and Give It Quick!

Goose likes to encourage us to listen to General Conference clips during our lunchtime. Today, we heard President Uchtdorf talk about the virtue of patience (fron April 2010 Priesthood Session). It was an amazing talk and it reminded me that I need to learn to endure with more faith, fortitude, and patience. I just want to get unpleasantness and struggles over and done with but life doesn't work that way. I can't expect instantaneous change from anyone, including myself.
The challenge for me is to not give up when the results aren't immediate. One of the great shames of my life is that I quit piano lessons and now I can't play even the simplest piece without a number of mistakes. Janey is studying flute this year, and she has learned a song that is to be accompanied by the piano. The piano piece is pretty easy--only a couple of flats and only 2-4 notes being played at a time. But I can't play it without making the same dumb mistakes over and over again. It seems like it's impossible for me to learn to do it right. But maybe I just need to be more patient.
It was crazy hair day yesterday.
Also, Cheeseball was trained in "RadKIDS"--basic self-defense training that our PTA provided to all second graders. Mr.Red kept asking Cheeseball to kick him harder....

Thoughts from Book Club

A couple of nights ago I went to book club. Somehow we got on the topic of dying and leaving our children behind. The biggest fear we all seemed to share is that no one would ever love our kids they way we do. It's an amazing thing, the love a mother has for a child. I'm finding it difficult to articulate what I mean, because so much of love is a feeling that extends beyond vocabulary. I am enjoying being with Goose so much lately, and when she smiles at me and tells me she loves me, I know we have a connection that is exclusive to ourselves. I have great kids and it's so good to be with them and talk and share and feel their love. Are things always perfect in our home? No way--we have struggles and we mess up daily. But I am so grateful for the good times and for the chance to try to nurture. I'm also grateful for April 2010 LDS General Conference--lots of good talks on raising children.

So I've been reading and re-reading the books for the Lonesome Dove series. The books offer a fascinating breadth of detail (sometimes quite bloody and violent) about life on the western frontier 150 years ago. I wonder what it says about me that I find it so interesting and engaging?
When I read, I like to escape and see places I've never been to and meet people that I've never known. I'm least fond of books about people like me-- scratch that, I'm least fond of books with dying, dead, or missing children. But reading about a white suburban housewife just doesn't have a lot of appeal for me. Maybe because then I would feel a need to compare myself with the character and then note all the ways I've come up short. Ugh. Pride is a terrible thing in how it makes us compete with others--even fictional characters. The way that it makes us rejoice to find others' faults or problems is the height of unchristlike-ness.