Friday, December 31, 2010
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Friday, December 24, 2010
the giver
My grandma was a good giver of gifts. Christmas was her favorite, and she knew how to do it well. She made her famous hand-dipped chocolates, supervisesd Grandpa as he hung the rainbow colored lights on the house, and filled her cookie jar to overflowing.
And, Grandma hosted the annual {marathon of a} family party. It always included good food, a ‘talent show’ by the grandkids, and a re-enactment of the Nativity. The culmination of the evening, the part she joyed in the most, was watching everyone open up presents. She’d sit in her chair, directing traffic. I was the oldest grandchild and the official present-hander-outer. She pointed and told me who got what, and in what order. Sometimes, if she bought people the same thing, she had them open their gifts at the same time. That bit of frenzy always made her laugh.
Grandma didn’t have good health, so she couldn’t trudge through the mall. She was a catalog shopper. This was, of course, before the days of cyber-Monday and Amazon, so she had a huge basket full of catalogs from practically every retailer in the country. She scoured the pages, circling items and dog-ear-marking pages. I discovered that I could get a pretty good ‘sneak peek’ at what the Christmas party held in store if I stealthily perused her catalog stash. When she couldn’t find something by mail order, she’d send Grandpa to ZCMI, ad in hand, with specific instructions on what to pick up. She left nothing to chance (or to Grandpa!). I’m sure her Christmas shopping took the better part of 4 months, but this was the day she lived the rest of the year to witness.
Grandma’s gifts were always just right. She had a keen memory for any casual comments made throughout the year about something you needed or were wishing for. And, often, she found something you didn’t even KNOW you wanted, but was just the perfect thing. Grandma could create magic with her gift-giving.
Nine years ago, Grandma and Grandpa had just returned home from our annual family party. She had joyed, once again, in the giving of just the right gifts. Her heart, I’m sure, was full.
And, then, it stopped. She passed away on Christmas Eve.
I miss Grandma. Especially at this time of year. I’m not sure ‘good gift giving’ is a talent I inherited from her. I’m always stumped and wish she were around to lend advice to my own Christmas list. But, thinking of her and her gift giving ways always reminds me of these words from our Savior:
“Or what man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a stone? Or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent. If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?” ---Matthew 7:9-11
I’ll always be grateful for the ‘good gift’ my Grandma was to me, given by a loving Father. He is the ultimate giver of good gifts, for He gave His Son for whom we celebrate and because of whom we can ‘joy in the giving’ at this Christmas season.
This is me, with a 'thank you, Grandma!' on my lips. Again, the perfect gift!
And, Grandma hosted the annual {marathon of a} family party. It always included good food, a ‘talent show’ by the grandkids, and a re-enactment of the Nativity. The culmination of the evening, the part she joyed in the most, was watching everyone open up presents. She’d sit in her chair, directing traffic. I was the oldest grandchild and the official present-hander-outer. She pointed and told me who got what, and in what order. Sometimes, if she bought people the same thing, she had them open their gifts at the same time. That bit of frenzy always made her laugh.
Grandma didn’t have good health, so she couldn’t trudge through the mall. She was a catalog shopper. This was, of course, before the days of cyber-Monday and Amazon, so she had a huge basket full of catalogs from practically every retailer in the country. She scoured the pages, circling items and dog-ear-marking pages. I discovered that I could get a pretty good ‘sneak peek’ at what the Christmas party held in store if I stealthily perused her catalog stash. When she couldn’t find something by mail order, she’d send Grandpa to ZCMI, ad in hand, with specific instructions on what to pick up. She left nothing to chance (or to Grandpa!). I’m sure her Christmas shopping took the better part of 4 months, but this was the day she lived the rest of the year to witness.
Grandma’s gifts were always just right. She had a keen memory for any casual comments made throughout the year about something you needed or were wishing for. And, often, she found something you didn’t even KNOW you wanted, but was just the perfect thing. Grandma could create magic with her gift-giving.
Nine years ago, Grandma and Grandpa had just returned home from our annual family party. She had joyed, once again, in the giving of just the right gifts. Her heart, I’m sure, was full.
And, then, it stopped. She passed away on Christmas Eve.
I miss Grandma. Especially at this time of year. I’m not sure ‘good gift giving’ is a talent I inherited from her. I’m always stumped and wish she were around to lend advice to my own Christmas list. But, thinking of her and her gift giving ways always reminds me of these words from our Savior:
“Or what man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a stone? Or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent. If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?” ---Matthew 7:9-11
I’ll always be grateful for the ‘good gift’ my Grandma was to me, given by a loving Father. He is the ultimate giver of good gifts, for He gave His Son for whom we celebrate and because of whom we can ‘joy in the giving’ at this Christmas season.
This is me, with a 'thank you, Grandma!' on my lips. Again, the perfect gift!Friday, December 17, 2010
Monday, December 13, 2010
made where?
My kids (the readers, anyway) have come to a realization that many of the things we have are made in China. I've heard several little "Hey, THIS is made in China, too!" over the last couple weeks. They think it makes their stuff exotic. Or, as Kate said, "They have lots of stuff to make stuff in China." Even her American girl stuff is...made in China.
Yesterday Dallin wanted to make his favorite lunch: Ramen Noodles. He is getting pretty good at making them himself, so I was observing the cooking from across the kitchen. As he was waiting for the water to boil, he kept saying how much he LOVED Ramen noodles and how he wished he could eat them EVERYday. Then, he asked, "Where do Ramen Noodles come from?" I quickly replied, "China. They eat them all the time in China."
But, then I turned the package over to see:
Made in U.S.A.
stamped on the back.
Hmmm.
Yesterday Dallin wanted to make his favorite lunch: Ramen Noodles. He is getting pretty good at making them himself, so I was observing the cooking from across the kitchen. As he was waiting for the water to boil, he kept saying how much he LOVED Ramen noodles and how he wished he could eat them EVERYday. Then, he asked, "Where do Ramen Noodles come from?" I quickly replied, "China. They eat them all the time in China."
But, then I turned the package over to see:
Made in U.S.A.
stamped on the back.
Hmmm.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
first professional portraits
My friend, April (who also has a Lea-no-H), took these cute pics of my beauty. Lovely, aren't they!Thanks, April!
Monday, November 8, 2010
the team
Once upon 5th grade someone decided it would be fun if Adri signed up for basketball. I recently asked my parents if they remember whose idea this could have been? Did I really come to them, begging to try this sport? Was it a wacky idea one of THEM came up with? Did I have a friend who insisted we sign up together? No one could remember. But, somehow---someway I ended up on a basketball team.
My gear-loving Dad took me to his Herman's (his favorite sporting goods store despite the creepy back-stairs entrance) to get some appropriate shoes. For me, the shoes were the highlight of the whole deal: white with turquoise accents and "Reebok" stitched across the side. They were nice shoes. Dad thought so, too. Which is why he insisted that I NOT put them on until I was inside the gym. Now, I'm not discounting his wisdom; I'm sure most NBA players do not wear their court shoes outside, either. However, for me, a fifth-grader who was the most un-pro-like player, it was just plain embarrassing to have to walk into basketball practice, shoebox under my arm, and sit on the sideline changing my shoes "Mr. Rogers style" before practice. But, Dad insisted; I obeyed (wasn't I such an angel child!)
I'm not sure if our team had a name, but our shirts were yellow. For some unknown reason (again, the parents can't explain it, either), I decided that the best shorts to wear with the yellow team shirt were orange. I looked more dorky than the Sunshine Generation kids. I know, because I once overheard a bystander making a comment about my orange shorts and I'm pretty sure it wasn't a compliment.
Besides my 'look' there was my skill. Mmm hmmm. I'm not a really sporty kind of girl. Never have been. I won't even mention my 2 seasons of softball. But, my obvious inabilities were easily made up for by our star player: Mr. T. Really, her name was Erin, but she insisted that we call her "Mr. T." She was a red-headed, freckled, stocky little thing with a mushroom cut hair-do and mad skillz. She could dribble and steal; she'd break away and shoot a lay up before anyone even started running to that side of the court. She was the forward and the backward and everyone in between. I'm sure she was completely annoyed with the rest of the sissies on our team. Other teams in our all-girl league would see her moves (and her hair) and comment that it wasn't fair that the yellow team had a boy player. Erin was awesome!
I only played basketball for one season. It was my gift to the team when I silently bowed out the next year. Soon after, my family moved and I transferred to a different school. I'm not certain, but I would guess that Erin continued to play basketball and was the star player of her high school team. Many years later, I ran into Erin at an amusement park. She was operating the rollercoaster, and when I jumped off I saw her in the little booth working the controls. She yelled my name through the glass and waved. "Mr. T!" I screamed back, excited to see her after all this time. She had turned into a very pretty girl, her red hair long and naturally wavy and her freckles faded and cute across her button nose. I only saw her for that minute, but it made me smile to remember that we were once part of the same team.
Dal started basketball this week. Unfortunately, he seems to have inherited my natural balling abilities. He didn't touch the ball much, but, this boy is definitely a good teammate. He cheered louder than anyone else whenever the ball made it through the hoop. And, maybe just being on the team is what it's all about.
My gear-loving Dad took me to his Herman's (his favorite sporting goods store despite the creepy back-stairs entrance) to get some appropriate shoes. For me, the shoes were the highlight of the whole deal: white with turquoise accents and "Reebok" stitched across the side. They were nice shoes. Dad thought so, too. Which is why he insisted that I NOT put them on until I was inside the gym. Now, I'm not discounting his wisdom; I'm sure most NBA players do not wear their court shoes outside, either. However, for me, a fifth-grader who was the most un-pro-like player, it was just plain embarrassing to have to walk into basketball practice, shoebox under my arm, and sit on the sideline changing my shoes "Mr. Rogers style" before practice. But, Dad insisted; I obeyed (wasn't I such an angel child!)
I'm not sure if our team had a name, but our shirts were yellow. For some unknown reason (again, the parents can't explain it, either), I decided that the best shorts to wear with the yellow team shirt were orange. I looked more dorky than the Sunshine Generation kids. I know, because I once overheard a bystander making a comment about my orange shorts and I'm pretty sure it wasn't a compliment.
Besides my 'look' there was my skill. Mmm hmmm. I'm not a really sporty kind of girl. Never have been. I won't even mention my 2 seasons of softball. But, my obvious inabilities were easily made up for by our star player: Mr. T. Really, her name was Erin, but she insisted that we call her "Mr. T." She was a red-headed, freckled, stocky little thing with a mushroom cut hair-do and mad skillz. She could dribble and steal; she'd break away and shoot a lay up before anyone even started running to that side of the court. She was the forward and the backward and everyone in between. I'm sure she was completely annoyed with the rest of the sissies on our team. Other teams in our all-girl league would see her moves (and her hair) and comment that it wasn't fair that the yellow team had a boy player. Erin was awesome!
I only played basketball for one season. It was my gift to the team when I silently bowed out the next year. Soon after, my family moved and I transferred to a different school. I'm not certain, but I would guess that Erin continued to play basketball and was the star player of her high school team. Many years later, I ran into Erin at an amusement park. She was operating the rollercoaster, and when I jumped off I saw her in the little booth working the controls. She yelled my name through the glass and waved. "Mr. T!" I screamed back, excited to see her after all this time. She had turned into a very pretty girl, her red hair long and naturally wavy and her freckles faded and cute across her button nose. I only saw her for that minute, but it made me smile to remember that we were once part of the same team.
Dal started basketball this week. Unfortunately, he seems to have inherited my natural balling abilities. He didn't touch the ball much, but, this boy is definitely a good teammate. He cheered louder than anyone else whenever the ball made it through the hoop. And, maybe just being on the team is what it's all about.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
scenes from a {practically} perfect Saturday
***and I didn't even get photos of the fab Daddy-made breakfast and the evening movie-night date!***Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Sunday, October 31, 2010
little things
This much I know: the Lord is in the little things.
***
I've been busy. Four kids has sort of thrown me into a tailspin of daily frantic doing, but with not much getting done. The last couple weeks were exceptionally overwhelming; not for any particular reason, but just because of the million little things that added up to chaos. I found myself snapping at the kids and frustrated with myself and losing more and more sleep trying to catch up. I was praying for help to get it all done.
***
Somehow, I managed to sneak away for an hour to go to ward choir practice. Our inspired leader is ever uplifting and being in her home, singing sacred words, was exactly what I needed. The hymn being rehearsed was "Take Time to be Holy." Oh, how these words speak to my soul:
Take time to be holy, Speak oft with thy Lord;
Abide in Him always, And feed on His word;
Take time to be holy, The world rushes on;
Spend much time in secret With Jesus alone;
By looking to Jesus, Like Him thou shalt be;
Thy friends in thy conduct His likeness shall see.
The reminder to 'spend much time' with the Lord and to 'feed on His word' was exactly what I needed. I changed my prayer from 'help me get it done' to 'help me have the Spirit.' And, even though the list didn't go away, my approach to it {eventually} did.
***
Saturday came early. A forgotten alarm set us awake at 'weekday' time instead of the sleeping-in that usually happens. The mountain of the undone was still on my doorstep, but I set about my 'chipping away.' Chad called from work to ask if the kids could don Halloween costumes and come show the staff. My first instinct was to sigh with fatigue, but then inspiration hit and I knew what we would do.
Since Halloween was on Sunday this year we'd already talked with the kids about skipping trick-or-treating. They knew we'd go trunk-or-treating at our Church party, so they weren't too concerned about the lack of candy. But, I still wanted to do something festive for all their neighborhood friends we play with everyday. So, we put together little bags of goodies and made simple Halloween tags. I dressed the kids in their costumes (ironically, a Christmas theme for us this year), and before heading to Daddy's office we did our trick-or-treating BACKWARDS, delivering goodies at each door.
Dallin cheerfully noted, "We are treat-or-tricking!" and Kate said, "It IS backwards trick-or-treating, since we are going in the day and not in the night." They had such fun ringing each doorbell and presenting our little goodie bags to their surprised friends. The smiles were contagious. I couldn't help but feel the joy of giving, too. It was the highlight of my holiday; the answer to prayer.
***
The Lord has many big things to keep Him busy, but I will be ever grateful that He finds time to 'be in' the little things, too; to honor and inspire me when I take a moment to be holy and honor Him.
candy cane baby
dancing elf who refused to wear his hat
mr. and mrs. claus
aka: treat-or-trickers
***
I've been busy. Four kids has sort of thrown me into a tailspin of daily frantic doing, but with not much getting done. The last couple weeks were exceptionally overwhelming; not for any particular reason, but just because of the million little things that added up to chaos. I found myself snapping at the kids and frustrated with myself and losing more and more sleep trying to catch up. I was praying for help to get it all done.
***
Somehow, I managed to sneak away for an hour to go to ward choir practice. Our inspired leader is ever uplifting and being in her home, singing sacred words, was exactly what I needed. The hymn being rehearsed was "Take Time to be Holy." Oh, how these words speak to my soul:
Take time to be holy, Speak oft with thy Lord;
Abide in Him always, And feed on His word;
Take time to be holy, The world rushes on;
Spend much time in secret With Jesus alone;
By looking to Jesus, Like Him thou shalt be;
Thy friends in thy conduct His likeness shall see.
The reminder to 'spend much time' with the Lord and to 'feed on His word' was exactly what I needed. I changed my prayer from 'help me get it done' to 'help me have the Spirit.' And, even though the list didn't go away, my approach to it {eventually} did.
***
Saturday came early. A forgotten alarm set us awake at 'weekday' time instead of the sleeping-in that usually happens. The mountain of the undone was still on my doorstep, but I set about my 'chipping away.' Chad called from work to ask if the kids could don Halloween costumes and come show the staff. My first instinct was to sigh with fatigue, but then inspiration hit and I knew what we would do.
Since Halloween was on Sunday this year we'd already talked with the kids about skipping trick-or-treating. They knew we'd go trunk-or-treating at our Church party, so they weren't too concerned about the lack of candy. But, I still wanted to do something festive for all their neighborhood friends we play with everyday. So, we put together little bags of goodies and made simple Halloween tags. I dressed the kids in their costumes (ironically, a Christmas theme for us this year), and before heading to Daddy's office we did our trick-or-treating BACKWARDS, delivering goodies at each door.
Dallin cheerfully noted, "We are treat-or-tricking!" and Kate said, "It IS backwards trick-or-treating, since we are going in the day and not in the night." They had such fun ringing each doorbell and presenting our little goodie bags to their surprised friends. The smiles were contagious. I couldn't help but feel the joy of giving, too. It was the highlight of my holiday; the answer to prayer.
***
The Lord has many big things to keep Him busy, but I will be ever grateful that He finds time to 'be in' the little things, too; to honor and inspire me when I take a moment to be holy and honor Him.
our Halloween-Christmasy crew
candy cane baby
dancing elf who refused to wear his hat
mr. and mrs. clausaka: treat-or-trickers
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Oh, the irony...
When visiting a friend, a former caterer, the other day, I was directed to a comfy chair in the office where I could nurse my baby for a bit. As I sat there I noticed the collection of cookbooks that lined the shelves: Beautiful France Cookbook, Beautiful Thailand Cookbook, The Gourmet Cookbook, volumes 1 and 2, The Great American Cookbook. And, scrunched in between Death By Chocolate and Desserts to Die For is, of course, The Better Homes and Gardens New Dieter's Cookbook.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
taped
Oh, how I pity the book that finds it's way into the heart of this boy....
Affection has it's price. He will, quite literally, love it to pieces. And, in the process, single-handed-ly keep Scotch Tape in business. I'm not an investor myself, but if I were to offer a bit of Motley Fool advice, I'd suggest buying stock now. Because he can't possibly stay in the book-ripping stage forever, can he?
Can he?
Davis's current picks for the "nearly-two" set (all of which have been resurrected via tape at our house)
Noah's Ark, by Lucy Cousins
If You're Happy and You Know It, by Jane Cabrera
Dig, Dig, Digging, by Margaret Mayo and Alex Ayliffe
Peekaboo Zoo, by Susan Hood and Simone Abel
Affection has it's price. He will, quite literally, love it to pieces. And, in the process, single-handed-ly keep Scotch Tape in business. I'm not an investor myself, but if I were to offer a bit of Motley Fool advice, I'd suggest buying stock now. Because he can't possibly stay in the book-ripping stage forever, can he? Can he?
Davis's current picks for the "nearly-two" set (all of which have been resurrected via tape at our house)
Noah's Ark, by Lucy Cousins
If You're Happy and You Know It, by Jane Cabrera
Dig, Dig, Digging, by Margaret Mayo and Alex Ayliffe
Peekaboo Zoo, by Susan Hood and Simone Abel
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
you know...
...it's been too long since you've vacuumed when you have to unwind, unwrap and disrobe the 'outfit' your 5-year-old put on the Dyson. Guess I better get to it.
{sigh}
{sigh}
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
hair days
"Even bad hair days are still hair days."
That's what my baby sis posted in her most recent blog post. It's my new motto. And I'm not even the 'hair' sister.
I love the 'gratitude' of it. Gratitude for each day, for life, for health, for family. I loved the words of the Prophet as he spoke this past weekend about having more gratitude.
So, even though it's not November, here's my list of what I'm grateful for today...
* my family. so, so blessed am I.
* my friends. you make my world beautiful.
* my home. it's not permanent or large or fancy, but it's filled with my favorites.
* my testimony
* crisp fall-time air
* mums on my porch
* smiles
* words. and feelings, when they aren't enough.
* sharing: time, food, ideas, heartache, healing, hope
* chocolate
* planning ahead
* looking back
* life....
That's what my baby sis posted in her most recent blog post. It's my new motto. And I'm not even the 'hair' sister.
I love the 'gratitude' of it. Gratitude for each day, for life, for health, for family. I loved the words of the Prophet as he spoke this past weekend about having more gratitude.
So, even though it's not November, here's my list of what I'm grateful for today...
* my family. so, so blessed am I.
* my friends. you make my world beautiful.
* my home. it's not permanent or large or fancy, but it's filled with my favorites.
* my testimony
* crisp fall-time air
* mums on my porch
* smiles
* words. and feelings, when they aren't enough.
* sharing: time, food, ideas, heartache, healing, hope
* chocolate
* planning ahead
* looking back
* life....
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
remember
"Oh, Kate!" I exclaim as I'm helping her tie magic knots in her laces, "How did you scratch your leg?"
"I don't know, Mom. There are too many rememberies to keep in my head!"
"I don't know, Mom. There are too many rememberies to keep in my head!"
Oh how I love this girl of mine. She is smart and funny, kind and caring. She's a thinker; a solver of problems and an asker of questions. She can sing and turn cartwheels and entertain her siblings. She is helpful, excited about life, and fun fun fun!She's also a little sassy, often questioning 'why' we have to do something a certain way or go somewhere when she's busy playing. She is an independent thinker, which at times drives a mommy crazy, but which trait I'm hoping will serve her well as she grows. This five-and-a-half-year-old is at the perfect stage: she still loves to snuggle, wants mom to color or play dolls or do play-doh, but loves the independence of going to kindergarten, being able to read on her own and zipping down the street on her two-wheeler.
THIS is a time of 'rememberies' I hope to always keep in my head (and my heart).
xoxo {first} baby girl!
xoxo {first} baby girl!
Friday, September 10, 2010
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
bad news
I wear braces.
It is embarrassing.
So, for the past 10 months I've avoided photos, big smiles and meeting new people. Okay, maybe not ENTIRELY, but for the most part.
It was extra embarrassing to be PREGNANT and brace-faced. It was.
Today I went to my {super great, despite my metal-mouth-ness} orthodontist only to find out that my treatment has been delayed due to my being 'unavailable for x-rays' for the past 9 months. Instead of a braces-free Thanksgiving, I'll be lucky to be un-metaled by Martin Luther King Day.
And, as icing on the cake, I'm now the {painfully} proud wearer of {extra EXTRA embarrassing} rubber bands.
Don't laugh. Please.
P.S. This is not me. I'm avoiding pictures, remember?
It is embarrassing.
So, for the past 10 months I've avoided photos, big smiles and meeting new people. Okay, maybe not ENTIRELY, but for the most part.
It was extra embarrassing to be PREGNANT and brace-faced. It was.
Today I went to my {super great, despite my metal-mouth-ness} orthodontist only to find out that my treatment has been delayed due to my being 'unavailable for x-rays' for the past 9 months. Instead of a braces-free Thanksgiving, I'll be lucky to be un-metaled by Martin Luther King Day.
And, as icing on the cake, I'm now the {painfully} proud wearer of {extra EXTRA embarrassing} rubber bands.
Don't laugh. Please.
P.S. This is not me. I'm avoiding pictures, remember?Monday, September 6, 2010
the beginning
Once upon a Labor Day I opted out of the long-standing family reunion to go camping instead. With lots of friends. And two old boats.
The weekend was sun-filled and friend-filled. And, in the end, I knew my life would never be the same.
Labor Day at Flaming Gorge was the beginning of "us." And, though I'll spare you all the gruesome details of a full moon, a midnight ski, and a love triangle, I will say this...
We owe it all to a broken-down '64 Starcraft, a little push from a best pal named Jacob, and lots long distance phone calls.
Here's to 12 years since 'the Gorge!'
The weekend was sun-filled and friend-filled. And, in the end, I knew my life would never be the same.
Labor Day at Flaming Gorge was the beginning of "us." And, though I'll spare you all the gruesome details of a full moon, a midnight ski, and a love triangle, I will say this...
We owe it all to a broken-down '64 Starcraft, a little push from a best pal named Jacob, and lots long distance phone calls.
Here's to 12 years since 'the Gorge!'Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Thursday, August 19, 2010
that smile
Dallin has a great smile. Despite his 'green teeth' as a baby, his grin has always brought another to my own face. He's quick to smile and can do a BIG cheesy one on command, for the camera, but there is one smile, one level of smile-dom, that just glistens; tells me that this moment, this event, this feeling is the pinnacle for him. I love that smile. It melts my heart; turns it upside down and smiles away any frowniness that was dwelling inside.
Dal had that smile today.
Our friends invited us to a playground that happens to be next to a skate park. We packed scooters and bikes in the van, and in spite of my overly pregnant status, ventured into the sunshine for a much-needed outing. Dallin was instantly taken by the ramps and hills and quarter pipes of the park. He zipped and zoomed for two hours, with barely a water break and no appetite for lunch. As we loaded everything and everyone back into the van, his smile said it all. That smile; so big and so full of joy. His head was sweaty (thank you, helmet) and his heart filled with the freedom of the ride. He said, "Mom, I LOVE this park!"
Oh, how I love to see that happiness in my boy!
Dal had that smile today.
Our friends invited us to a playground that happens to be next to a skate park. We packed scooters and bikes in the van, and in spite of my overly pregnant status, ventured into the sunshine for a much-needed outing. Dallin was instantly taken by the ramps and hills and quarter pipes of the park. He zipped and zoomed for two hours, with barely a water break and no appetite for lunch. As we loaded everything and everyone back into the van, his smile said it all. That smile; so big and so full of joy. His head was sweaty (thank you, helmet) and his heart filled with the freedom of the ride. He said, "Mom, I LOVE this park!"
Oh, how I love to see that happiness in my boy!
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Dislaimer: this is NOT a craft blog
Disclaimer: This is NOT a craft blog!
Just a few photos to document the project that has taken up the bulk of my summer. We are super excited to welcome our little baby girl home to share this new girly room with her big sis.
Baby girl's quilt (aka the easy one). Stripes and ruffles. Fun and fast!
Kate's quilt. Who's 'genius' idea was it to diamonds, anyway? Just FYI...I discovered that cutting and piecing diamonds is a LOT harder than squares. I had to consult my architect brother for help.Seriously.
It's been a while since 9th grade geometry. Thanks for the diagram, Pres!
Ruffles...just to make it extra feminine!
a little embellishment on a clearance rack pillow
And, something to fly in the sky!Still left on the 'to-do' list:
paint crib
ruffle-up a crib bumper
turn clearance rack frame into magnet board
birth baby...
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
To my bitty boo...
Tonight I let your bathtime linger.
I was the pour-er,
dipping cup in water
and letting flow a slow, steady stream into the tub.
You were 'discoverer,'
experimenting with the way the water hit your fingers,
toes,
toys,
head.
Filling funnel;
pouring cups,
stopping the flow with your chubby toddler hands.
Though you'll never cease being MY baby,
in the coming days, you'll lose your spot as
THE baby.
And, yet, it was so recently that I swaddled my tiny,
5 pound,
winter-born bundle
into my arms and brought home
my boy.
The baby I'd prayed for and wished for and hoped for...
for so long.
You.
I was the pour-er,
dipping cup in water
and letting flow a slow, steady stream into the tub.
You were 'discoverer,'
experimenting with the way the water hit your fingers,
toes,
toys,
head.
Filling funnel;
pouring cups,
stopping the flow with your chubby toddler hands.
Though you'll never cease being MY baby,
in the coming days, you'll lose your spot as
THE baby.
And, yet, it was so recently that I swaddled my tiny,
5 pound,
winter-born bundle
into my arms and brought home
my boy.
The baby I'd prayed for and wished for and hoped for...
for so long.
You.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
