Voices

This afternoon when I dropped Ben off at school, his teacher mentioned that we were approaching Ben's year mark of being in his class, which meant that we'd be having a meeting soon to evaluate Ben's progress and goals. As a bit of side note, Mr. Brad commented, "you know, I'm going to do whatever I can to keep him in my class, but there's a chance that he may not even qualify anymore."

Two years ago I had Ben evaluated by an Early Start teacher who, at that time, almost diagnosed Ben as autistic, based on her first observations of him. After a couple of months she was confident that that wasn't the correct diagnosis, but there were still enough delays that we signed him up for her class and started working with her on getting him to talk and improve in other areas where he was delayed.

As soon as Ben turned 3, he "graduated" from that program and then made a very smooth transition to a different preschool with a teacher who specializes in Speech. I had assumed Ben would be in this class right up until he was ready to start kindergarten. The fact that he may not qualify to be in this particular class anymore came as a bit of a surprise. A great one! Don't get me wrong. It means that he's caught up to where he "should" be (whatever that means, right?) and there aren't any serious delays that need to be addressed.

Ben loves his teacher and the assistant. He has so much fun and it has been such a great place for him. He really has grown and matured so much socially. Ben has found his voice, in more ways than one, and has such a clever-thinking mind. I would love to have him home with me, but I think it'd be so confusing to him to all of a sudden not being going to school anymore. I know we'd find our own special things to do, just like I've been trying to do with the time I have with Hugh while Ben's at school. I just wasn't expecting to hear that today.

And, it kind of got me thinking about why that came as such a shock. So often I doubt myself and my abilities, especially when it comes to things related to parenting. I never feel like I'm measuring up... to what exactly? I have no idea! It's so absurd. But, still there sort of this constant feeling that I'm just not quite on par and may never be.

Where do those thoughts come from? I've always blamed the inner voice in my head. But, what if it isn't our inner voice? What if at some point down the road we find that voice to be from some much darker more sinister source that really preys on our weaknesses and seeks to make us miserable?

I don't think my inner voice is nearly so harsh or unforgiving. On any given day and in any given moment, we are bombarded with so many different emotions and experiences. The thoughts and feelings that come to us from different directions can all be so subtle. Unless it's some big moment, I don't really stop and consider where each thought and feeling comes from.

Starting today, I'm going to be more discerning to the different thoughts and feelings that come to me, because I have this sneaking suspicion that my true inner voice is much more like the still, small voice that whispers encouraging words that build and inspire. It could be that the negative really are coming from somewhere deep inside of me, but even if that is the true source, listening to it still isn't going to be helpful in any way.

I'm not anywhere near the mother I want to be or wish I were, but I am trying so hard... and I can look back and see how much I'm learning and how much I'm getting better at some things. And, even though I'm not perfect all of the time (who is, though?!), I do have some good moments and have figured out how to do some things right.

My biggest fear is totally botching this whole thing and ruining my kids for the rest of their lives. But, then I have moments - like today in my conversation with Ben's teacher - where I look back and see how far we've come together and how much we've been blessed in the process. And, I think we're all doing so much better than we realize. And, whatever negative voices are trying to convince us otherwise are just not worth listening to.

Gifts of Life

Yesterday Marc was able to take the second half of the day off work, so we could have a little family time together. We drove down to the Bay, where we first met up with my parents, who were down there for their usual Wednesday at the temple. Then, later we met up with my brother for dinner, who is on a little business trip. It ended up being a pretty long day, but so worth it! It was exactly what I needed and I came away feeling so refreshed and uplifted.

I was reminded of some very important truths, and I wanted to write some of them down so that I won't forget as easily.

1) The world around me is beautiful. Every where I look, there is beauty. I happen to live in a very gorgeous place - a little valley that's surrounded by lush mountains that are extra beautiful this time of year, it isn't far from the beach, and even closer to the most amazing Redwood Grove of its kind. Just a month ago we took some new friends to this particular grove and they were so stunned by its beauty, even paying close attention to the abnormally largeness of the clover leaves, which I hardly even notice now. As we explored the grove with them, I found myself trying to see it with new eyes, as if it were my first time, to feel the same awe and reverence that they were feeling. It made me realize how lucky I am to live in such a beautiful place that offers such unique creations to appreciate. And, the most beautiful thing about that idea is that everyone should be able to say the very same thing about wherever they live. That's how beautiful this world is. I want to be more conscious of its beauty and more appreciative of the gift it is. The earth, in all of its beauty, is a gift that is meant to make my life joyful.

2) There is a need to connect and re-connect with those we love. Tomorrow morning, just like nearly every Friday morning for the past 7 months, I get to go fishing with my Dad. My Mom got us both fishing licenses this year and we decided Friday would be our fishing day. We've missed some, but only when one of us has been out of town. Sometimes it's just the two of us, sometimes we take my 3 kids. But, it has gotten to the point that Friday Fishing Day is almost as sacred to me as the Sabbath. Part of that has to do with the time I get to spend with my Dad (and 3 kids) doing something we love, and part of it is the feeling I get that I'm reconnecting to Nature, which to me is completely synonymous with connecting to Deity. I guess in a way it feels to me like the perfect set-up to feel close to both my Fathers. I love the sound of the rushing river we go to, watching the deer frolic in the golden hills on the other side of the river, feeling the warmth of the sun as it comes up through the trees, and just the chance to unplug from the many distractions and plug back into the things that matter most - those eternal relationships, both here and there.

3) I am not perfect and that is perfectly okay. I read somewhere recently - "God has a plan for your mistakes." And, He does! He doesn't expect me to be perfect and never has. He knows my efforts, He knows the desires of my heart, He knows I'm trying to figure it all out. I'm just glad He has it all figured out. I'm realizing there is a lot more I can do to let Him in my life to show me more. I think sometimes I convince myself that part of life is just suffering through blindly until I finally have a stroke of luck and get it right. But, I'm realizing He can open my eyes to new ideas, new beliefs, new habits, new perspectives, that can make the whole process so much easier. I just need to put myself in a place to be ready and listening, expecting the answers to come.

Yesterday was a much needed reminder that this life is a gift. The earth is a gift. The relationships I enjoy are gifts. The plan that God has for my life is a gift. And it is all there for me to enjoy, to find happiness. True, life has its struggles, but life is so much more than just trudging through the hard moments. The views, the people, the experiences are meant to bring me joy. That is the purpose of life - to find joy. It's there, even when the mountain is steep and the way is unknown. And, oh, how I needed that reminder!

Mixed emotions

Every once in a while my birthday falls on Mother's Day. That happened this year. And, as most people know, Marc and I share the same birthday, so with that in mind and it also being Mother's Day, it was a pretty big day around here.

It feels very appropriate to me to celebrate the day I was born on the same day we honor our mothers. It's like a double celebration of my Mom and she deserves that, no doubt. For all who know her well, know how blessed and lucky I am to belong to her. And I am!

The whole weekend, though, felt a little overwhelming and kind of heavy. Like big, dark storm clouds hanging off in the distance. On Saturday there was a tragic drowning accident in our little town, to a family I know and a fellow young mother in our play group. She lost her little boy yesterday, just barely older than my two boys. It hits way too close to home. My heart felt like it broke in a million pieces when I first heard the news. There were a whole lot more tears at church today. It's just so heartbreaking and we're all in shock.

It seems that everyone is feeling a little more protective, a little more cautious, and a lot more grateful for even the crazy moments with our little ones. It's good to be reminded of what matters most in life, but it's hard that it sometimes takes such sad events to remind us. Life is so fragile and mortality is so unpredictable. Death can come to anyone at anytime for any number of reasons. We're just never ready for it to happen to someone so young, so fresh, so full of promise. And, it's humbling to realize no one is immune.

I've had a hard time processing this friend's loss. I can feel my defense mechanisms blocking my emotions to a certain extent, pulling me away from the strong pull of grief. I also fully recognize that my losses are totally different than this loss and it's just too painful to try to put myself in her shoes. It takes my breath away and makes my heart rate increase. It's awful even trying to imagine.

The other side, though, that brings me an incredible reassurance in the face of sorrow and pain is that there is a healing balm available that is equal to the wound. That is a beautiful, miraculous, merciful blessing provided by a very loving Father. No matter the tragedy, no matter the depth and the size of our wounds, there is healing that can be found. It is painful. It is hard and it will take time. But, it is possible to find... and as hard as that journey is and as unwelcome as the path appears, there are powerful experiences along the way.

I'm feeling so much more grateful tonight for my life, my family, my blessings. I just hope I can find ways to help lift the burdens of those who are mourning.

Living and loving my life!

Life is busy around here. My free time lately has been dedicated to things that I love doing. And, I feel so grateful to be able to do so many things that I love.

First, of course, is time spent with my babies. I guess some might argue that time spent with them is not my free time, but I'm going to call it that anyway. On most days and in most moments they are just so much fun. Lucy is growing like crazy! As of today, she is TEN months old. A month ago she weighed 21 pounds 9 ounces and measured at 29.5 inches long - in the 90-something percentiles for both. She has learned how to wave and does it all the time. She's refusing the pureed baby food she used to devour and now insists on eating off my plate. She has figured out how to ride her big brothers' motorized quad, even daring to stand while it's in motion (redefining for us what it means to be fearless). She can stand up with ease and is so steady that we're pretty sure she'll be walking before she turns one. I keep wondering where my baby went... they grow so fast!

It seems that the older the boys get, the more time they spend playing nicely together. They are best friends and do pretty much everything together. I'm so glad they have each other and get along so well, for the most part. They are talking like crazy and come up with the most hilarious things. The other day I captured a moment of the two boys in the backyard, sitting on the steps with big sticks talking about how they were fishing, reeling in their catches. Pretend play at its very best!

They're into pretending to fish because we've been doing a lot of real fishing the last couple of months. My mom bought my dad and I fishing licenses, so we've have a set day of the week when we go fishing together. The second time we went out Hugh happened to wake up while I was getting ready, so I asked him if he wanted to go with us. He was so excited! When we came home later, Ben wanted to go so bad that we all went back out for a little longer. It's a little crazy to have the two boys out with us, worrying about them falling in the water or doing something crazy like getting a fish hook stuck in a finger (like what happened to me when I was a little girl out fishing with my dad and brothers). So, we have rules that we try to get them to follow. Some rules are sinking in better than other... Last week as we were driving out to our fishing spot, I was going over the rules with the boys and when I asked them what the first rule was, Ben said, "Eat doughnuts." Pretty smart kid, I'd say!

Most other mornings are spent running or biking, training for my half marathon next month. So far it's going great! Tomorrow is a 9-miler and I'm feeling pretty good about where I'm at.

Most evenings are spent relaxing on the couch with Marc, either watching a favorite show on TV (Survivor or Amazing Race, anyone?!) or helping Marc with some website projects. He's taught me how to do some basic things and I find it fun to help him do what he loves to do. Now, if we can just get my new blog design up and running... hopefully soon!

Six weeks - where did they go?

I can't believe it has been so long since I've posted. Most of February was filled with fun activities - the first warm days of early Spring that got us outside for picnics, hikes, bike rides and running.

Lucy LOVED her first time on the swings!

Picnic at the lake and feeding the ducks.

It's so nice to live in an area that gets warm enough in February to take our lunch out back for a picnic just because it feels wrong to not be outside enjoying the warm sunshine.

Painting day!

The Ding Dong cake I made for Marc for Valentine's Day was so delicious!! (I altered the recipe a little just because I have a hard time following recipes.)

Then February went out with a bang. We all got a terrible case of the flu, all except Ben. It started with Hugh, then went to Marc and Lucy, then me, then back to Lucy. It was AWFUL. From start to finish, it lasted a little over a week, but then it seemed to take another week to recover from the sleep deprivation and the endless loads of laundry.

In the middle of all of the sickness, Lucy was teething, poor baby! But, I have to say I've never seen a happier sick baby. She'd throw up and then be giggling and want to play. She is such a sweetie.

For a couple of weeks I just felt so exhausted ALL THE TIME. I'm finally feeling semi-human again and that appears to be necessary for me to update my blog. But, I have to admit that the down time we were sort of forced to have was actually kind of nice. We had a couple of days where we all stayed in pajamas all day long and played and watched our new favorite movie - The Lorax. Sometimes it's nice to be forced to slow down.

Right in the middle of our bout with the flu I just had to vacuum. I needed to feel productive, I guess. So, here are my kids on one of our PJ days, cheering for me as I vacuum. It was so cute!

In other news, I'm starting the arduous task of potty training both boys. It is not easy!! I have one that is super willing but will sit on the potty chair for hours and barely get a drop out, and the other who can pee on demand but puts up a fight every single time. My assessment of that is that one is physically ready but not emotionally, while the other is emotionally ready but not physically. Or something like that. So, I'm not officially "Potty Training", but just helping them practice and get more comfortable with the idea. Which means I get them to sit on the potty chair at least once a day and I talk about it ALL THE TIME. One of these days I won't have three in diapers... and hopefully SOON!

And, just because this post hasn't already been long enough, and not nearly enough photos to satisfy the average reader, here are just a few more!

And, with that, I think we're all caught up! I would promise to get better and not ever do this again, but I know better than to make such a promise.

A glimpse of my crazy life

This morning as we were getting ready for the day I asked the boys, "what should we do today?" Without even a slight pause, Hugh responded with "Go to Utah." Funny boy. Then, he continued to say it throughout the day. We didn't go to Utah. But, we did walk down to Bapa and GG's house.

But, before that the boys decided that they'd take turns trapping each other in the big toy tub, all while I was nursing Lucy. At first they were both sitting in it in the middle of the kitchen floor, talking about how they were floating in a boat, giggling and playing nicely. Then, the next thing I know Hugh is screaming and crying hysterically, but it's all kind of muted. So, I got up as quickly as possible to find the lid on the tub securely in place and Ben looking a little concerned at not being able to get it off.

We rescued Hugh and I got comfortable again and Lucy and I resumed her feeding. Not more than a few minutes passed when there was another muffled scream, this time coming from Ben. This time he was the trapped one. I tried really hard to remain calm, but also to use my firmest voice to let them know this little game was not okay. Not just because it could be dangerous, but also because Lucy was tired and all of these interruptions were making it really difficult to get her to sleep.

When we were interrupted for the umpteenth time and Lucy was clearly unable to sleep through it all, I thought I might just lose all my cool if we didn't get out of the house. So, I wrapped Lucy up in her Sleepy Wrap and gave the boys a piece of licorice (as bribery to be good on our little walk) and off to the grandparents' house we went. They held my hands the entire way and didn't try to pull any fast ones on me, for which I was very grateful. Times like these remind me that they really are good boys.

Spending a couple of hours with my parents was a good choice. We all got some fresh air, a change of scenery, and a few more extra hands to keep them from hurting each other. Ben assumed his usual self-appointed duty of watering the plants in my parents' yard, and did so very thoroughly, while Hugh sat on the stepping stones playing with rocks and bugs, making up stories about cars going through gates.

And, Lucy? She slept against my chest, her head tucked perfectly under my chin, her body snug against mine. I love carrying her around in the wrap and feeling the closeness with her that we shared for nine months, only now the joy is tenfold and the pain is considerably less.

Luckily my Dad walked with us back home and the rest of the afternoon went by rather uneventfully. Until at one point I started to change Hugh's diaper, only realizing halfway through that I needed to grab a diaper. I came back to find that Ben had taken over, pulling the diaper off and trying to wipe Hugh. Poor Hugh looked like he was paralyzed with fear and had the most uncertain look on his face. We were all cracking up!

We ended the evening on a little family walk down to the playground, one last attempt to extract any extra energy from our little energizer bunnies. We've been doing it every night for the last week or so and it's been working like a charm! Lucy and I swing, while the boys run around, and Marc and I get time to talk about our day. While I enjoy the one-on-one time with Lucy, I think I enjoy this whole family time even more.

And, we end the evening with some sort of treat (lately it's been ice cream cones) and baths. Marc takes care of the boys while I take care of Lucy, and we usually emerge from our routines at about the same time, giving us a couple of hours of quiet together.

The days sometimes seem long and a tad bit crazy, but my three little ones are growing so fast and, even with all the craziness that comes with it, I wish I could make time stop. This is the life; the life I always dreamed of having. And, it's even better being right in the middle of it.

Car buying - the good and the bad

Tuesday morning we were busy putting all our ducks in a row to finally finalize the purchase of our first family-sized vehicle. After months of researching and searching and making contacts and negotiating prices and having nightmares about not being able to bring our baby girl home from the hospital because we didn't have a car big enough, we finally found something that we felt good about.

The main problem, or perhaps the biggest inconvenience was that it was being sold by a dealership three hours away. But, that was also a stroke of good fortune since my super awesome friend, Annie, lives in the same city. So, we made plans to meet up and the two little boys and me to stay the night and spend part of the next day with her and her two boys, while Marc would make his way home with one of our cars on Tuesday and I'd come home the next day in our other car.

Without going into all the nitty-gritty details, the whole process ended up taking longer than we anticipated and the purchase wasn't finalized on Tuesday and we all stayed the night.

As long of a day as it was and with everything taking much longer than expected, it actually felt kind of like vacation. While the car was being checked out by a mechanic, we met up with Annie and Jack at a train park, where the boys had tons of fun running around and exploring. I'm pretty sure the very best part, though, was that Daddy was there running around with them. And, when their faces were red and energy mostly spent, we went to the cool and comfort of Annie's home. As we left to go test drive the car, the boys were so happy to be playing with Jack and Scotty again, and of course all of their cool toys, that they didn't even notice when we left.

And, even though the day ended without new car keys in hand, it did end with yummy pizza and salad and helium balloons, making us really wish our local Round Table had the same buffet deal here. I'm pretty sure the boys wouldn't mind at all. They were in heaven!

Fortunately, Wednesday morning came and everything came together smoothly to make the purchase final and by noon-ish we were caravaning back home with Marc and Ben in our new Sienna and Hugh and me in our Honda. Hugh slept for most of the drive home, but woke up at different intervals and would start crying out "new car" and "Daddy", clearly not happy that he was missing out. Poor kid! I had no idea it was going to be so traumatic.

It was such a relief to finally have everything come together and eliminate that extra little burden of stress from our minds. And, even though the entire process and being three hours away was a huge hassle, having such great friends to spend the extra time with made it fun and relaxing. It was a huge blessing to have ended up in their city under such unexpected car-buying circumstances. We have really been blessed with some of the greatest of friends!

The extra exhaustion of illness

This last week has been exhausting. I mean, life in general right about now is a little on the exhausting side - two active toddlers coupled with being six months pregnant. But, when illness strikes, exhaustion takes on a whole new meaning.

It started last Tuesday when Ben woke up from a four-hour afternoon nap (which is quite a bit longer than normal) and was extra cuddly. I noticed his little body was generating more heat than it should and just let him rest in my arms while we watched some Curious George. As soon as Marc was done with work for the day, he took my place on the couch while I headed into the kitchen to get dinner started. Within maybe ten minutes Ben was throwing up all over himself, the couch, and Marc.

Before bedtime he had thrown up one more time and his fever persisted. But, fortunately, he was holding water down. The night that followed was long and uncomfortable for the little guy. We took turns responding to his cries and with each check on him, that darn fever wasn't showing any sign of breaking. Finally, by the time morning arrived his fever was gone and he was mostly back to his normal, active self.

We initially felt relieved that Hugh wasn't showing any sign of being sick. Then, Thursday morning came with Hugh feeling feverish and miserable all the day long. No appetite, no interest in anything, no energy whatsoever. He would accept water to drink, but shook his head in refusal to anything else we offered. Maybe that was the secret to the absence of any vomiting.

Friday morning, and throughout the weekend, both boys seemed back to normal health again and I was relieved their episodes were relatively short-lived. I was more than a little shocked when I went to drop Ben off at his Early Start playgroup on Monday morning and while helping him get settled, I found myself catching his unexpected vomit in my cupped hands. Luckily we were standing by the sink, so I dumped and when back to catch more as he continued to heave over and over again. I felt so terrible. He had been a little more clingy that morning, but I attributed it to him waking up earlier than usual and just having a harder time getting started.

After getting him cleaned up, I brought him back home, where we spent the entire day snuggled on the couch and his little body refused to hold down anything I tried to feed him. Hugh kept himself busy with an old cell phone, pretending to talk to BaPa and GG, no doubt wishing like I was that they would hurry and come home from their trip to visit my brother and his family.

Today, once again, the morning greeted us with two little boys who seemed back to normal health and activity, but I'm feeling a little skeptical and on guard, just in case tomorrow morning comes with another unwelcome illness, bent on knocking us down once and for all.

On a somewhat related note, I did notice that Ben is just starting to cut the first of his two-year old molars. Is there any chance that vomiting/fevers are related to cutting molars?

Life is Sacred

First, I really wanted to thank those who left such helpful advice on my last post about transitioning from cribs to big boy beds. Not only was it helpful, it was incredibly comforting to remember I'm not alone in these kinds of changes. As far as an update, we still haven't done anything. Ben hasn't attempted to climb out again, perhaps because the one incident scared him good enough to keep him from attempting again right away. We are planning on changing their sleeping arrangements very soon, even if it's just a bit of a temporary solution for now, but it just hasn't happened yet. Hopefully before they work up their courage to make their next attempted escape!

My thoughts have been all over the place lately... from the miracle of life to the ever-present political goings-on and just about everything in between. I think I'll save some of my more political ramblings for another day, mainly because today needs to be remembered for today.

The twenty-seventh of March will always be marked in my heart as a day to be remembered, whether I plan on it or not. That first miscarriage I had in 2003 had estimated my due date to be the 27th. Today. The date comes around every year with a little less pain and sadness than it did those first couple of years. I know for certain that our current blessings are the main factor in contributing to that healed sadness, for which I am so grateful.

In fact, more than sadness, today I mostly wondered at how different life would be right now if we had an eight-year old. It's so hard to imagine. And, then I just felt awe at how perfectly sorrow and joy have woven themselves through my life, making quite a stunning masterpiece of rich and deep emotions. There have been moments I've admittedly wished away some of those emotions, but now can hardly imagine my life without having known them so intimately and deeply.

My dad, without being aware of today's date, shared this video with me - Conception to Birth. It is amazing and inspiring and beautiful to consider the miracle of life.

On a somewhat related note, I came across a movie today that was released to select theaters this past weekend. It's called October Baby and you can watch the trailer and other background stories about the film at its website. It's basically the story of a young adult girl who finds out she was adopted at birth, after surviving a failed abortion. The movie takes her on a journey to find answers and healing. With any movie that tackles such intense themes, I'm sure there are bound to be some strong opinions associated with it. I would love to see it, but I'm pretty sure it isn't going to come to a theater near me. According to their website the closest theater currently showing it is a couple of hours away. So, if any of you have seen it or end up seeing it, I'd really love to hear your thoughts on it.

And, on a somewhat unrelated note, after reading this story in the news, I'm feeling an even greater appreciation for the details of my experience a month ago that kept my little boys and me safe. I am even more sure of angels (here and beyond) that were sent to watch over us that day. Lots of reminders today of the sacredness of life.

Quality vs. Quantity

I remember back in high school having a conversation with a girl who was much more extroverted and outgoing than me. She would float around different groups, friendly spreading her social butterfly wings with an enviable ease. That felt much too daring for my comfort zone, which consisted of sitting quietly in my tight-knit little circle of friends. But, I was shocked one day to hear her express sadness at feeling like she didn't have any friends. From my perspective she had dozens (if not hundreds) more friends than me and I didn't understand how she could feel that way. That is, until I realized the difference between quantity and quality.

The conversation stuck with me as a constant reminder that the quality of my relationships was much more important than the number. And, really, I've been so blessed with some of the most priceless friendships a girl could ever hope for.

As I look back on my life, it's so easy to identify friendships that came naturally and easy, and amazing to recognize the tiny details that allowed our lives to connect. I've been seriously blessed with the companionship of some of the most amazing friends, and often during periods when I needed them the most. And, equally amazing is the connection that remains even with great distance and length of time that might separate us.

One of those friends happens to have her birthday today. You should check out her blog and let yourself laugh and be inspired. She is amazing! Happy Birthday, Jess!

As I get older, though, I've realized that those easy, natural friendships don't come along very often. You know the kind... where right off the bat conversations flow, the comfort level makes you feel like you can open up the most vulnerable part of your heart without any hesitation and without any fear of judgment. I should add here that having been blessed with sisters who have filled that role is a blessing I sincerely try not to take for granted. There is nothing better than having sisters who are also my best friends.

And, so when I have that, I find it even more incredible when my life is still blessed with others that bring with them such sweet friendship that makes my life feel richer than what I could ever merit. Just a few short months ago I met a young mother of two adorable boys, her youngest the same age as Benjamin, and right away I felt drawn to her. I could tell by my initial interactions with her that she and I would probably get along really well. Little did I know how much we'd have in common and how those commonalities would quickly forge one of those rare friendships that come easy and naturally.

On the first play date we had with our boys, Annie and I got to talking and before I knew it, she was opening up to me about her recent loss - a baby girl - that left her with wounds that were still raw and painful. It was the last thing I was expecting to hear from such a happy, seemingly carefree person. But, immediately I was taken back to my own reactions to our loss and the efforts I made to appear normal. And, remembering the physical ache that lingers in the heart in the months that follow and the tears that seemed to not ever dry up, I just wanted to wrap her up and take all of that away. And, right away I felt this huge relief with the realization that there would be feelings we'd share that wouldn't ever have to be expressed.

From that day (in October, I think) followed lots of days just like it where we'd meet up, let our boys play (and sometimes borderline fight... two-year olds!), and continue to build our friendship. Earlier this month I was super sad to find out that their brief stay here would be even more brief than originally planned. They moved this morning back to where they came from, which fortunately isn't too far away but still far enough away to create some distance and great difficulty in continuing our weekly play dates and late night talk-fests.

But, rather than feeling sad, I feel so incredibly blessed to have another friend who will no doubt be a friend for life, one of the best in quality.

Slowing Down

After dinner tonight I was in the kitchen doing the dishes, when Hugh came up behind me and grabbed onto my legs from behind, clearly trying to get my attention. So, I dried my hands and bent down to his level and we looked in each others' eyes. Pretty soon I was tickling him in his most ticklish spots (his neck and under his arms) and he was giggling away with his head thrown back. That was about when Marc announced from the living room that Ben was coming to join in the kitchen fun. I was laying down flat on my back on the kitchen floor with Hugh trying to tickle my tummy and Ben trying to squirm away from me tickling him in his most ticklish spots (just under his chin and his belly).

It was one of those moments of pure joy, when time seems to pause for just a moment and I was lucky enough to have the right frame of mind to pause long enough to capture it. Unfortunately I know I don't always do that, but I've decided to change that.

I'm guilty of getting distracted with other things. There are times when I look at the luxuries and technological advances we have at our fingertips, and I just wonder whether or not we're really better off. There are advantages, sure. But, I can't help but wonder what kind of damage the disadvantages could potentially cause us, as individuals, as families, and as a world-wide community.

A couple of weeks ago I read an article in USA Today about The Slow-Family Movement. It was my kind of article. My whole soul totally resonated with the ideas, the arguments, the whole philosophy of slowing down, spending time together as a family, simplifying schedules and eliminating extra distractions that come in all different forms.

Of course, if I'm being completely honest, if given the chance I would jump at the opportunity to live in the woods with the likes of Thoreau, just to experience life stripped down to it's barest essentials.

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion." - Henry David Thoreau

I know that kind of experience might not appeal to everyone, but reading that makes me itch with the desire to detach from modernity, only to then be able to better attach myself to what's really important in life.

It seems like there's a trend that has snow-balled through the last couple of decades of parents signing their child(ren) up for every possible activity - soccer, ballet, football, painting, piano, hip hop, violin, baseball, yada, yada, yada. Don't get me wrong, I'm a huge fan of being active and having an active lifestyle, as well as exploring new interests and developing talents. But, I cringe at the thought of my life, and especially the life of my child(ren), revolving around activities that take up every spare moment of the day.

I'm already taking mental notes of the personalities of my boys and trying to be aware of where they have natural strengths and interests. It's important to me to provide opportunities for them to develop and explore and dive into whatever activities that mean the most to them. It's avoiding the trap of getting them overly involved in more than is necessary. The unnecessary is what will replace what could and should be reserved for time spent as a family.

I suppose it might be as simple as making a conscious effort to have a well-balanced schedule that includes quality family time and quality personal time spent exploring and developing talents and interests. I think the key is being aware of what is most important for our family and making sure we work hard to keep those important things as the top priorities.

I think there's something to this message from Simon & Garfunkel: "Slow down, you move too fast. You've got to make the moment last."

I'm hoping so much to do just that. Slow down, enjoy every stage of my little family, and really make these moments last.

A not-so-ordinary day... Continued

... I'm really sorry about keeping anyone in suspense. It honestly wasn't my intention. It just got late and I was too tired to finish and that seemed like a good place to stop. And, even though I know how the story ends, all day today I found myself wondering where some of you might have guessed where the story was going to go. You might have thought it had something to do with the little old lady... well, that is a really good guess... but not even close.

When we were about half a block away from her house, we crossed an intersecting street where I noticed a strong smell of burnt rubber or something, but didn't think much of it and kept on going. We arrived at the lady's house and I rang her doorbell once, but when no one came and I was a little worried that she might have been resting, so we turned and went back in the direction we'd come.

As we approached that intersection we'd come from, I noticed some thick smoke and that burnt smell was much stronger. There were a few people rushing around and that was when I saw that a car parked in front of the house on the corner was on fire. I grabbed my cell phone and dialed 9-1-1, but right away a man called out, "they're already on their way." So, I just stood there, stunned. I was pretty sure I was far enough away to not be in any danger, but just in case we backed up some.

I had to go down that particular street to pick something up from my parents' house, so I decided we'd wait until it was safe. Plus, with how much both boys love trucks, I knew they'd probably enjoy seeing the fire trucks so close. It's crazy, though, how when you're at the scene of an emergency how slowly time ticks by. I know it must have been less than five minutes, but it felt like so much longer.

We had backed up enough that we didn't have a direct view of the car, but close enough to hear two very loud bangs about a minute apart. That might have been the two front tires, not sure though. But with each bang I started to wonder if the whole car was about to explode and debated about whether or not I really wanted to be around for that.

Once the fire trucks, police cars, and ambulance all arrived, the fire was out and things were under control within a few minutes. Ben was so excited, trying to wiggle his way out of the stroller to get in on the action. He happened to be wearing his favorite jacket with a firetruck on the front - surely that was license enough to lend a hand, right? Hugh screamed in terror, not wanting to have anything to do with it. Funny how different their reactions were.

*here's the car, a day later

So, that was my not-so-ordinary day. And, really, what a relief! If I learned anything at all it was that I could not handle a job that would require me to be cool, calm, and collected in intense situations. And, just as I type that I fully recognize that having two boys could very much become such a job... haha! But, it did make me so much more grateful for all those who do have those kinds of jobs and fulfill them with such courage and expertise.

Here's to more just plain, ol' good ordinary days... like today! Except for the snake part. (Don't worry, nothing happened with the snake. It just scared me as it almost slithered across my bare toes while out on our walk this afternoon. Maybe I should stop going on walks.... haha!)

A not-so-ordinary day

After a bit of a long night, with both boys awake and crying a couple of different times, morning came with a terrible lack of enthusiasm. I had planned out my morning very precisely before going to bed, reviewed it with Marc so he would be on board with my plans, and felt sure it would all go smooth as buttah.

While I was grinding my wheat (to make a batch of whole wheat bread), I decided to grind a little extra to make some whole wheat pancakes for my boys. So, I got the pancakes mixed up while waiting for the yeast to get all frothy like it's supposed to, then had Marc step in to finish flipping the pancakes while I added in a few more ingredients to the bread dough. Then, Marc and the boys had breakfast while I headed out the door on my morning run, which I was actually pretty excited about since the skies above were clear of clouds and rain, leaving the air clean and fresh.

I had anticipated rain this morning, so being out without the rain had me on cloud nine. I was making great time, running at about an 8-minute pace. I went on my favorite four-mile loop that starts off taking me through the neighborhoods at the foot of the west hills that leads me passed old Victorian-style homes and quiet streets, then I wind down toward the center of downtown and passed this local bakery that tricks me into thinking I'm back in Modena and craving those darn bombolas (a doughnut of sorts that is filled with Nutella or Creme) that we'd eat after teaching English class. Then, I eventually wind back up to the second main drag in my small town and back home.

Well, just as I was passing mile three, there was an older woman out on her morning walk up ahead of me, coming toward me. I was running in the bike lane and when she saw me, she went to move up to the sidewalk. Everything happened so fast that I'm not sure exactly what happened, but all of sudden she was down on the sidewalk, hitting her head hard enough that one of the lenses of her sunglasses was knocked right out of the frames.

I ran right to her and helped her to a sitting position. She was clearly in shock and feeling a little embarrassed. As I tried to reassure her and assess the situation, blood started trickling down the left side of her face, where she had fallen. I don't do so well with blood or emergency-like situations. Just ask Marc. On the few somewhat serious situations we've been in with the boys and their accidents, I am quite the sight. I can't help but laugh out loud at the replays I do in my mind of those moments, watching myself go into full panic mode... nearly hyperventilating at the slightest hint of blood.

There I am wiping her dripping blood with my hands, trying to figure out what I can use to stop the cut on her temple from bleeding. I didn't have anything. I almost stripped off my shirt. That was (thankfully) when I saw an older gentleman just about to go into a doctor's office right in front of us. I called to him, "Can you grab us some tissues?" He sort of nodded, a little confused, and continued with his cute old man meander. Remember, I'm in panic mode and just about jumped up and sprinted passed him in my anxious state of trying to clearly save this poor woman's life. That was about when I noticed more blood is now coming from a cut on the bridge of her nose.

In the meantime, my new friend remembered she had a kleenex in her jacket pocket. But, turns out she couldn't unzip it because of how she fell on her wrist, so I helped her with the zipper and we finally got the bleeding under control, when a nurse and a doctor come out from their office. After a brief conversation with them, the sweet little lady decided she just needs to walk back home and then find a way to the hospital to get her wrist checked out. She never did accept my offer to walk with her, insisting she was "just fine and not dizzy at all."

There was no way I was going to let her walk, what turned out to be, almost a mile back to her house. I was going in that direction anyway, so we walked arm-in-arm making small talk the whole way, talking about her grown children and grandchildren, her husband who passed away last year, and a mutual friend of us both who had a similar fall on the same street while out on her morning walk not too long ago. Crazy small world. And, apparently some crazy dangerous sidewalk on that street.

In the end, I got her safely to her house with a plan in place to call her daughter for a ride to the hospital. Upon returning home I had forgotten about my rising bread dough that Marc had appropriately (at my instruction) beaten down (twice) when it had gotten too big, which for some reason made my bread loaves very deflated and ugly-looking. I just have to remind myself when I see it sitting all ugly on my countertop that it still tastes good and that having ugly-looking bread isn't the worst thing to deal with. (or is it? I'm still trying to convince myself... )

Later in the afternoon, when there was a break in the storm, I took the boys out on a walk and decided to drop by the lady's house to check in on her. That was when our day got even more exciting....

My Running Hat

A year ago I was recovering from my c-section and could barely walk without wincing with every step. I'd heard it was best to wait eight weeks before trying to start an exercise routine, but even after a few months I was still having a hard time doing much more than an easy walk around the neighborhood. I'd hear my friends talking about their morning runs and seriously doubted if my body would ever fully recover enough to do any kind of intense exercise again.

After a few attempts here and there to pick up running again, I finally decided to give myself a year to fully recover and focus all my energies on embracing my new mother-of-two-small-babies hat. I went on frequent walks with the boys in their stroller, but I put aside my running hat, certain I would know when the time was right to get it out again.

In May when my sister was visiting, I knew it was the perfect time to dust off the running shoes and jump back into a good routine. I was sure that having a running partner for nearly three weeks would make it much easier to get started and keeping going. And, it was. Now that it has been almost two months, we've both kept up with our morning runs, often calling each other before heading out the door to give each other that little motivational push.

Just this week I broke six miles and it feels so good. I've been realizing how much running has become my outlet. That might be part of the reason I haven't been blogging much - I leave the bulk of my thoughts out on the pavement to be swept away with the wind. Which is probably a healthy thing for me with it being July and all.

Putting on my running hat again has proved to be healthy on so many different levels - even to the point that I feel like it's helping me fit better into my mother-of-two-active-toddlers hat. And, I feel so grateful for a body that can function again like it did before having major abdominal surgery.

The other day when I returned home from a long run, as soon as I walked through the front door, Hugh walked toward me with his arms stretched high, reaching for my hat. That boy and hats, I tell you! I reluctantly gave in and right away he put it on his head. It was so cute (and gross at the same time) that I had to capture the cuteness. (I don't know what it is, I never used to sweat like I do now.)

It appears Hugh loves my running hat as much as I do. But, I hope my children will always know that there isn't a hat that I love wearing more than that of mother.

Looking forward

This week, with all of its extreme ups and downs, I'm actually really glad tomorrow is Monday.

But, first off, I have good news - Hugh's bruises from his accident last Sunday are completely gone. Although he does have some new ones, but luckily not any nearly as frightful. He hasn't slowed down a bit this week and I'm so relieved.

I was a little surprised, though, by how much Hugh's little collision with our end table on Mother's Day seemed to cause bruises on my heart. I couldn't look at him without feeling like I was looking at the poorest reflection of myself. And, while Hugh's bruises healed with amazing speed, I kept poking at mine. After an exhausting Tuesday, I came across this quote on my niece's blog:

"Occasionally discouragement may darken our pathway; frustration may be a constant companion. In our ears there may sound the sophistry of Satan as he whispers, "You cannot save the world; your small efforts are meaningless. You haven't time to be concerned for others.' Trusting in the Lord, let us turn our heads from such falsehoods and make certain our feet are firmly planted in the path of service and our hearts and souls dedicated to follow the example of the Lord. In moments when the light of resolution dims and when the heart grows faint, we can take comfort from His promise: 'Be not weary in well-doing . . . Out of small things proceedeth that which is great. Behold, the Lord requireth the heart and a willing mind."

- Thomas S. Monson

As I read it, the burdens I'd been carrying suddenly felt noticeably less heavy. And, I was reminded that these days, even with the bumps along the way, are the most sacred days of my life. And, even when I get overwhelmed by discouragement or inadequacy, I know I can ultimately decide how much I allow those feeling to linger. Plus, I'm guessing that life with boys is going to be full of accidents and stunts that won't end well. While I will do my best to protect and keep them safe, maybe what's even more important is how I respond when they fall.

***

The week got progressively better and since Thursday we've been eating this:

Marc requested yellow cake with chocolate frosting for his birthday cake. I had been eying my choice - Banana Split ice cream cake - for at least six months (during the period I was going dairy-free and craving ice cream like a true addict with insane withdrawals).

We ended the week with a visit from my dear friend Sarah and her son Noah, and the return of my parents (from their month-long hiatus) just in time for my Dad's birthday today, which also brought my sister and her two little ones, too. With visitors like that, only good things to come this week.

When I see you smile

(Note: I wrote most of this post yesterday about my day yesterday, but didn't quite have it finished before going to bed last night. Not that any of you care about a detail like that, except that today's weather was so much different than yesterday's, which would have drastically changed this entire post. Just so you know... and just in case any locals wonder how I got the sun to shine on me alone while the rain poured down on everyone else. Ha!)

I'm not really sure why, but this week has felt a little more overwhelming than usual. Just a lot on my mind, I guess. When this morning started off with a bit of a bang, I knew I needed to do something to find calm.

After the morning naps, I loaded my boys in the stroller and off we went. First stop: their favorite fountain. It's been a while since we've paid it a visit and I knew they'd be happy to see the water shooting up into the air, like it does. And, happy they were! I'll do anything to see smiles like that from them.

We paused for a few minutes, but then continued on our way. We ended up heading toward the cemetery. The promise that the twins' resting place would provide peace and perspective has continued to be the case and on a day like today I felt like it was exactly what I needed. Even just on our way there, I found my overwhelming thoughts to be pointless and insignificant.

It was the perfect day for a purging. The air was crisp, but the sun was warm. Blossoms were everywhere and the birds' songs accompanied us the entire way. At one point I looked down at my boys and saw that they were holding hands - not the usual ouch-you're-hurting-me hold. This time it was clearly more affectionate and gentle. It was so cute that I tried to get a picture with my phone, but as luck would have it I wasn't fast enough.

It was in that moment that I could almost feel the unimportant things on my mind flying away with the wind. There wasn't anything more important than the happiness of these two boys and as long as I was doing my best to provide that for them, everything else could take its proper place of priority.

Benjamin fell asleep before we reached the cemetery and as soon as we started back home, Hugh started looking up and back at me, as if to ask "are we there yet?" and did it about every two minutes, just like you would expect. When we finally returned home it was clear that satisfying hunger was the top priority. Marc helped by feeding the boys their appetizer of applesauce while I threw together the main course - french bread pizza.

And, right in the middle of making my boys their pizza lunch, a song came on the (internet) radio that was the perfect song for today.

Seriously, so true. When I see my little boys smile, I really do feel like I can do anything. Well, not anything... but anything that is important and necessary for their growth and well-being.

Here are just a few of their smiles from this week:

When I see you smile
I see a ray of light, oh oh,
I see it shining right through the rain
When I see you smile
Oh yeah, baby when I see you smile at me

Just another {good} day

The sun came out today and brought with it some warmth. It has been so rainy and cold. To celebrate the good weather, after Hugh's morning nap, we ventured outside for a nice, long walk. Of course, the process of getting out the door is no small task.

Hugh woke up at 10:22am. First I had to change into my running clothes, which had just finished their cycle in the drier. As I retrieved them, I decided I better take out the dry clothes and throw in the wet clothes that were waiting their turn in the washer, which I did with Hugh in one arm. Then, I changed Hugh's diaper and put his jacket on.

By now it was already 10:35am.

Put Ben's jacket on him and changed his diaper. I realized he had taken his socks off. I found one in his crib and could not, for the life of me, find the other one. I spent a good five minutes searching underneath and behind all the obvious places. I finally resorted to putting a completely different sock on him that I found in the process. That kid loves to take off his socks! Got his socks and shoes on him and watched the cutest smile stretch across his face as he seemed to recognize the connection between shoes and going outside.

Now: 10:50am.

Grabbed a few toys, crackers, water cups, and a banana. Got them buckled into the stroller and off we went. Only, before we got to the end of the driveway I realized the back left tire was totally flat. My little restless Benjamin decided to throw his toys off to the side, presumably in protest of this additional delay, while I wrestled to get the tire pump secured tightly enough to get the tire filled as quickly as possible.

Finally, we were off... at 11:06am.

Forty-four minutes. That's longer than it took us to walk the almost three miles (round-trip) to Grandma and Grandpa's. The boys had a fun little play break for 20 minutes before we came back home to have lunch. By the time we arrived back home, Benjamin had fallen asleep and ended up staying asleep for two hours. I put his lunch aside for later and the rest of us had a little picnic in Marc's office, with the sunshine pouring in through the windows behind us.

Just after lunch it was time for Hugh to go down for a nap, but he wasn't having it at all. He doesn't seem old enough to be ready to go from two naps to one just yet, but maybe he is. When I was just about to throw in the towel anyway, Benjamin woke up from his nap and was starving. I love how excited they both get to see each other after naps - Hugh does his little nasal-y squeal and Ben smiles like he's just won the lottery... or something like that.

And, in the afternoons when my parents come over to play they get the same reaction from both boys. Today we took the boys outside for a little extra sunshine, sharing some strawberries along the way. We explored a run-down tennis court closeby. Benjamin had his first encounter with a puddle. He stomped and got his shoes wet. Then, he bent down and was running his hands through the water.

Pretty soon he was squatting and really getting into it. In just a matter of minutes his pants were wet up to the knees. He was giggling and so were we. Even some guy out working on his car had stopped what he was doing, a huge smile on his face. It was right about then that Benjamin plopped himself down on his bum right in the middle of that puddle, which ended our puddle adventure and we headed back home. Hugh seemed entertained, but was content to stay in my arms through all of the excitement.

* This is just moments before plopping himself down

I wish I could have gotten a photo of Hugh's delight with his first strawberry taste or the excitement of splashing in the tub tonight. (Goal for tomorrow.) Instead, here are a few recent photos of Hugh sporting a new hat.

* I'll have to find Marc's baby photos - it seems like this one of Hugh looks just like him as a baby.

I love watching my boys experience new things - the taste of a strawberry, a puddle of water, splashing in the bathtub (Hugh just barely discovered splashing for the first time last night), pulling dishes out of the dishwasher (a daily favorite). There is a thrill and a joy that is totally contagious. I don't mind the mess. It's totally worth it when I get to feel their newfound joys along with them.

Today was just another day, which are arguably more wonderful than any days I've ever known.

A birthday, a baptism and double the brownies

Highlights of this week (minus the photos because of some technical difficulties we're having):

Monday - My sister's birthday. Since she lives nearly a thousand miles away, we decided to celebrate by making ourselves a pan of Nutella Brownies. THE brownie of all brownies. I don't know if I'll ever eat regular brownies ever again. Happy Birthday, Dawnie!

Tuesday - Snuggled up all day and stayed away from the rainy weather outside. Hugh was hating life because of a terrible rash that just kept getting worse, no matter what I tried. Late that night I watched part of Mansfield Park with my man. I just love Jane Austen.

Wednesday - After putting the boys to bed, Marc had some meetings and I had the house to myself. All day I dreamt up different ways I could spend that precious alone time. I ended up cleaning, like the kind where you get groovin' and movin' and can't stop. Not even close to what I had in mind, but it felt good to have everything so clean. My whole perspective of housework has totally transformed after a discussion I was part of last Sunday... a post of its own for another day, I suppose.

Thursday - This should be a post of its own, too... Hugh had his 9 month appointment. He's now 30 inches (he's grown nine inches in nine months!) and weighs 20 pounds 10 ounces (that's 12 pounds in nine months). He's in the 90th percentile for height, 25th percentile for weight, and 95th percentile for his head size (47 inches). Made the most delicious enchiladas, with extra for leftovers on Friday.

Friday - It snowed! Yes, real, falling snow in our little valley. To celebrate, we took a family photo toward the end of one of the flurries. My friend, Kelly, came to visit with her youngest two, which the boys totally loved - and, I did, too! Also, I made Nutella Brownies. Again. (This time for a baptism... but, I still put some aside for us for later. Oh, I'm so bad!)

Saturday - Hugh decided not to go down for his morning nap. Watched BYU work their magic against San Diego. Hugh decided he didn't want to sleep in the afternoon either. Well, he actually woke up because of some noisy neighbors and I was unable to coax him back into dreamland. Got some super happy news from a friend, while chatting over a cup of hot cocoa together. Also, it was a big day for our dear Tracey, sending her lots of love and happy thoughts. fFinished watching Mansfield Park. It was just alright. I'm not sure if anything could beat Pride and Prejudice.

Sunday - Ben fell asleep in my arms during the second hymn at church - I Stand All Amazed. Just before that sweet moment, he was on the verge of becoming a little mini-hulk, it seemed. Once his body was completely limp, I laid him down on the comfy pew, using my sweater as a pillow/ear muffs (to keep the noise to a minimum), and thought back to my own childhood memories of waking up in similar situations in that same chapel on practically the same pew. Took a bunch of photos of the boys playing in their white Sunday shirts and khakis, with the afternoon sun shining on us (wishing I could access the photos on my camera to share with you... soon, soon, I promise!).

Another fantastic week come and gone. Another week is here to enjoy! The big question - how many times will I make Nutella brownies this week?

Some thoughts

My mind is weighed down with thoughts. All evening I've been trying to sort through them, hoping to figure out where the bulk of the weight lies.

1 - There were the thoughts about BYU basketball. I can't help it. I bleed blue and always will. I love being excited about my Alma Mater doing amazing things, even when it's just with athletics. (These were clearly not the heavy thoughts.)

2 - Then, I found the thoughts about how I feel about this recent article that seems to be getting all kinds of attention. My response would be something along the lines of, "hmmm, that's an interesting perspective" and "I wonder if people read my blog and think I sugar-coat everything to make my life look more perfect than it really is" and "I don't really care what anyone thinks of what I write or how it comes across, I write for me and from a place in my heart that yearns to be expressed in a certain way" and "I think it's great that we each can express ourselves in our own way, and however we express ourselves we can choose what and how much of a glimpse we allow others to see" and "I think that's a beautiful thing" and "blah blah blah blah blah..."

3 - There were thoughts about a new friend who is just starting the adoption process. I think back to 2006 when we were in that spot and how uncertain and vulnerable it felt to be there. We've come so far. Things have turned out far better than I ever would have imagined. But, I can still feel the fear and doubt that once tried to rule my heart. While I'm glad we aren't there anymore, my heart goes out to those who are in that place - hoping that everything turns out better than they could have ever imagined, too.

4 - I found the heaviest of thoughts to be for my boys. Our days are so packed, even with just the basics of naps and feedings and cleaning up messes, that I often find myself at the end of the day wondering where the time in the day went to just sit and snuggle with them, or to quietly explore the world with them, or to spend some real quality time with them. And, with two that need my love and attention I feel a bit overwhelmed with making sure they're both getting the nurturing that they need. Not that giving them that attention is overwhelming, but I get overwhelmed with worry that what I'm giving isn't enough. I wish I knew how to schedule in more of these quality moments when the nurturing level is at its highest. I think it must be possible, I just need to get better at making more time for more of those moments.

5 - Some thoughts have been too far in the future for them to be of any benefit to anyone right now. Worried thoughts about raising my boys to be good and honest and kind and confident and humble and good at playing soccer and gentle and grateful and so many other things. I can't stand to read stories or hear about troubles that kids have these days. There is so much hurt and confusion and it all just makes me want to move to a small villa in the countryside of Tuscany where I could raise my little family, perhaps a bit shielded from some of life's unnecessary pains (although, that begs the question - are there pains that are necessary? and, are there pains that are unnecessary? that might make a good post for another day.) Doesn't life in Italy just seem a bit simpler and happier? Maybe it's just me.

6 - Elliana and Emmaline have been in my thoughts a lot more recently. After my cousin lost her little girl suddenly and unexpectedly (almost two months ago), it triggered a lot of emotions. Some sadness. Some longing. Some heartache. But, mostly gratitude. And love. Even though losing them was the hardest thing I've yet had to endure, it has been such a powerful change for good in my life. Visits to their gravesite continue to remind us what is really important in life and recommit us to enjoying every moment we have together.

There. That feels better. Now that my thoughts have found their place and priority, I plan on having a better-than-average night of sleep. I love knowing the morning will come with new opportunities.

Waking up slow

Nights at our house lately have been a little rocky... for the last two months or so. Just when Ben had started to (more or less) sleep through the night, something threw him off track. Not only has he been waking more during the night, but he wakes up screaming. Some nights aren't as bad as others, but still we are feeling a bit frustrated that we haven't been able to figure out how to help him sleep better at night. 

I've heard that when babies start to go through major changes (like eating solids, crawling, teething, walking, etc...) that their sleep can be disrupted. With that in mind we've tried all kinds of different things to try to solve the problem. Nothing seems to be working. He is really close to getting his two bottom teeth in, so for now we're focusing on that as the culprit.

Anyway, after an almost three hour period of wakefulness in the wee hours of the morning, Hugh decided this morning to wake up earlier than normal. I scooped him up and fed him quick, secretly hoping he might decide to go back to sleep for a couple more hours. But, in his typical adorable fashion, as soon as I finished feeding him, he looked at me with his bright, wide eyes and smiled with his open mouth excitement, apparently for the start of this brand new day.

But, not feeling quite ready to gallop our way downstairs, I laid both of our heads down on my pillow. It was one of those mornings when I just needed to wake up slow. So, I smothered him with kisses on his cheeks and in return he told me one of his fascinating stories. Even though I can't understand them at all, there is no mistake when he talks that he has important things to say.

As I laid there next to him, with his little hand gently touching my cheek, I felt this feeling of renewal come over me. Physically I was exhausted after another long night of little sleep, but emotionally and mentally and spiritually I couldn't have felt any better. 

After an exhausting day the other day, I was thinking back to the years we had before welcoming Ben and Hugh into our life. Mainly thinking of the lack of responsibility that gave us the flexibility to do anything at any time - going out for a jog or a bike ride, take a spontaneous day trip together, going camping and hiking, going on longer vacations to faraway places, watching a movie without interruption, staying up late and sleeping in early. 

And, as fun and exciting as those days were (and I feel so grateful that we took advantage of our situation and actually made a lot of great memories together), this morning as I snuggled with my littlest boy I knew there wasn't anything better than what I have right now. 

As I type this, both my babies are taking their morning naps (hallelujah!) and I've just taken my shower and gotten dressed for the day (yes, I know it's after noon). And, so as to not wake Ben who is napping on his make-shift bed of blankets on the floor in the front room, I'm sitting on the kitchen floor, leaning against the fridge (which hides me from his view)... because I know if he sees me when he stirs just the slightest bit that naptime is over. And, he desperately needs his naptime today.

So, even though I can't even sit comfortably on the couch and write to my heart's content like I used to, I'd give it all up again and again to have what I now I have. Long, sleepless nights and all.

As long as they are followed by mornings like I had this morning.

Jack Johnson really got it right, didn't he?