Our Holiday, in pictures

ornament memories IV

Dallin's 2nd grade teacher used to play music when they were doing their work, and one song that was on her disc was "'Tis a Gift to be Simple."  Dallin clung to this tune and sings it often.  He proclaimed it his favorite song and when we heard the Tabernacle Choir singing it one Sunday morning on TV, Dal was ecstatic.  "They are singing it just for me!" he declared.  (At least one member of the choir definitely WAS singing it for Dal...it is nice to have a Grammy in there, just for those occasions).

I think it is appropriate that my sort of simple boy loves this simple song about enjoying life's simplest gifts.  He isn't the top student or the best player on his sports teams or the fastest runner or, really, the best at anything that is measurable in that way.  But, his simple ways are definitely a gift.  He simply enjoys each day for what it is.  He has a hard time pinpointing favorite foods or books or activities or friends, because he loves whatever he is doing, and who he is doing it with, at the moment it is happening.  His best times are while doing simple things: making paper airplanes with Kate, chasing Davis around the house, reading a book to Lea.

Dal's life is a gift.  He has a wonderful, simple way of loving his siblings, obeying, waking us all up for scripture study in the morning, laughing a big, hearty laugh at something funny on TV;  He is simply a good kid, trying to do what his Father would have him do.

Chad and I picked up this ornament on our 5th anniversary.  We spent the day in a historic town called Shaker Village of Pleasant Hill.  We enjoyed the simplicity of the beautiful summer day, watched as our cute one-year-old Dallin reached through the fences to pet the horses and sheep, learned more about the simple life of the Shakers, and felt the blessings of the past 5 years.

Our life now seems so much LESS simple than it did back then, but the gifts really are found in the simple, special every day moments.  And I'm glad I've got my Dallin (and his favorite song) to remind me of the gift simplicity is.

ornament memories III

Chad served his mission in the Czech Republic.  He, of course, loved it, and he brought home many little treasures to remind him of his 'best two years.'  My favorite of his finds is a set of egg ornaments.  The eggs are painstakingly blown out and hand painted by amazingly talented artisans.  The eggs in Chad's set of 5 are all different, completely unique.  The Czech's decorate Easter trees with these beautiful eggs (we like to do that, too), but I also put them on the Christmas tree because they are so lovely and meaningful.

Last year, like every year, we hauled the Christmas decorations up from the basement and, as a family, decked the halls...but mostly the tree.  We always start with the garlands, then the ornaments.  And, as we pull each one out, memories are shared.  I think it is like that in most families.  

Since we have little fingers that live in our house some ornaments are automatically 'top of the tree' treasures, hung far away from the pint sized crowd.  The Czech eggs fall into this category, so last Christmas, Dallin picked up the box of eggs and started to hand them up to Chad, who was on a ladder, to be hung.  Somehow, in a split second that I can't fully comprehend, in the transition from one hand to another, a miss-step, lost balance, something happened.  Two of the eggs were crushed.  So was my heart.

But, the amazing thing was, Chad didn't get upset.  I'm sure he was sorry, too.  Maybe even angry. These were HIS eggs and HIS memories.  But, he knows his boy is more important than eggs and as Dal's tears immediately fell when he realized they were broken, Chad's forgiveness came just as instantly.  My first reaction would have likely been accusatory or questioning, "what were you doing?" or "why can't you pay attention?"  Chad simply said, "It's okay, Dal.  It was an accident. We'll just have to go back to the Czech Republic and get some more."  

This year, when I pulled out the remaining eggs and put them on the tree, the memory that came wasn't of missions or Europe or an unfortunately accident, but of forgiveness and compassion...the real spirit of the season.  The spirit of Him whose birth we honor and whose life we attempt to emulate.  Joy to the world!  He did come and I can choose to be like He is.  The eggs remind me of that now, too.

ornament memories II

One year of college, above all others, stands out in my mind because of the fun memories made with the wonderful roommates I had.  The Babes of 301A were perfectly matched (hand selected).  And, we had fun.  We stayed up too late, ate lots of junk, consoled each other and celebrated with one another, dedicated movie moments and songs, laughed a lot, and sometimes, we even studied.  

And we danced.  

Someone would throw on the tunes and all inhibitions were tossed out the door.  At some point in the year we decided that our dancing habits merited our throwing a HUGE disco dancing party.  We visited the DI for the perfect ensembles.  We made fliers to hang in our complex and pass out to our friends.  We made fondue.  We rented a disco ball.

I don't remember how many people came to our disco party.  We filled up our tiny apartment as we jammed to the songs of Gloria Gaynor and ABBA.  It was a night of memories that always make me smile. 

One of those fabulous roommates, a few years post-301A, gave me a tiny disco ball at an ornament exchange.  Every year, when I pull it out to put it on my tree, the strains of "Dancing Queen" pop in my head and my heart remembers these girls, my besties, from back in the day.  So glad to call you mine.

Merry Christmas to Mar, Lar, Les, Nat and Nat!

ornament memories

At Christmas, Grandma always decorated with two kinds of Christmas decorations.

Her front room was blue.  The fluffy, flocked tree filled up the front window with it's azure lights, white and silver glass balls, and birds in nests as ornaments.  This room was strictly forbidden for little people. I think only the home teachers ever got to sit in there.  I would catch a glimpse of the blue magic from outside, through the window, as we drove up, or I'd sneak a peek as I passed the front room, heading down the hall.  It was mysterious and special.

In Grandma's family room, however, red and green ruled the holiday decor.  The tree was trimmed with less-breakable things and lots of little Christmas knick knacks were displayed on shelves, the mantle and in Grandma's curio cabinet.  On the hearth, in the corner, sat Mr. and Mrs. Snow: homemade crocheted snowmen Grandma must have made in Homemaking at some point.  They had pom-pom eyes and pom-pom smiles.  She crocheted them each a hat; he wore a scarf and she, a shawl. They were frumpy and funny and always there, every Christmas, when Grandma's house turned magic for the holidays.

Grandma passed away 10 years ago this Christmas Eve.  At some point, during some great house clean-out, Mr. and Mrs. Snow came to live with me.  Chad wished we hadn't adopted this odd looking pair (missing a few pom-poms, no less) but I couldn't part with the memories they held.  I cleaned them up and, each Christmas, would set them out in our little apartment, much to Chad's chagrin.

I still have Mr. and Mrs.  They are too hokey to set out on my mantle, but I like to tuck them in, among the branches, in my Christmas tree.  Their pom-pom eyes and smiles are long gone (thank heavens), but those crocheted accessories still remind me of the hands that created them: the way she loved Christmas and presents, homemade holiday candy and family get-togethers.  And magic.  She definitely loved Christmas Magic.

Miss you, much.  Merry Christmas, Grandma!

leg warmer

Whenever we ordered pizza, as a kid (which wasn't very often), I liked to volunteer to ride with Dad to Pizza Hut and pick it up.  I'd jabber the whole way there and back.  My soft spoken Dad didn't usually have a lot to say in response to my ramblings (maybe he was ignoring me?), but I think it was just enough to let me get in some of my 7,000 daily words during our drive.

Once we had picked up the pizza, I got to ride home with the hot boxes on my lap.  I loved how they made my thighs warm, warmer, then hot.  It was nearly too much heat to take, but we'd pull into the driveway just as I thought the pizza would burn through the box.

Thursday afternoon got away from me and I was facing 5 o'clock without a dinner plan.  Thankfully, Daddy offered to "cook" and Papa John was called in as reinforcement.  I headed out the door to go pick up the pizza and my Kate rushed after me with a "Can I come?" on her lips.  She hopped in the backseat and chattered at me the whole way, talking about friends and school, games they play at recess and the boys she chases 'cause she's so fast.  It made me smile to remember my own talkative self as I stole a peek at my beautiful girl in the rearview mirror.

We grabbed the pizza and I slid the boxes onto her lap for the drive home. 
"Are your legs getting hot, Kate?" I asked. 
"I like it.  It is warm!"
And, as we pulled into the garage she said, "I want to stay under this pizza blanket forever!"

I guess she's better at handling the heat!

all for milk

Milk.  We drink a lot of it around here.  Like 8 gallons a week.  Or something.

I used to be a 'one trip a week' kind of grocery shopper, but since I have to two milk-addicted babies and a fridge that only comfortably holds 3 gallons (I need a deep freezer for extras, but that is another post for another day), I find myself frequenting the grocer's more often than I would like.

The other week I needed to make a milk run. At night. With all four children (plus an extra, just for fun...and because I told his mom I would bring him home from basketball practice).  Since we hadn't carved out time (pun intended) to find Halloween pumpkins yet, I decided the milk run would also serve as our 'pick your pumpkin from the bin' outing.  Not exactly the pumpkin patch experience of the mid-west, but kind of the way it is in these here parts.

Before exiting the car, I told the children that they needed to 1: walk, 2: stay with me, 3: not scream.  As soon as the van door opened, said hooligans children began to 1: run, 2: climb on top of the cart return poles, 3: scream.  This was going to be a pleasure, I'm sure.

I loaded Davis into the car cart (beep beep), the baby into the cart seat and tried to NOT let the other three kiddos get killed as we crossed the parking lot.  The pumpkin bins were our first stop, since they are on the way in.  Chaos ensued, but four plump ones were quickly chosen and loaded into the cart (and only the little guy dropped his 3 or 4 times on the sidewalk).

I walked into the store with the intention of going straight to the dairy case (which, by the way, do they HAVE to put it in the VERY back of the store?), but got a bit distracted by a few other things I needed to get.  By the time we had made it to the back of the store for the milk, and back again to the check-out, I felt a bit like someone stuck in the middle of the Tazmanian Devil's tornado.  Sheesh!  I was glad to get OUT of the store.

But, as we were loading everyone (and every pumpkin) back into the van, I noticed it....pilfered candy in the hands of the 2-year-old.  Eek!  My first instinct (I am ashamed to say) was to stuff it in the back of the van and pretend I wasn't harboring stolen goods.  I mean, the idea of hauling my crew BACK into the store for a $.75 bag of Skittles? Really?  But, the big kids saw the candy. Drat!

Thankfully, my often-shy-Dal was willing to go back into the store alone to return the snitched snack, while I ignored the shrieks of our thief who was screaming "TANDY, TANDY!" at the top of his lungs.  Dal was quick to tell the checker that is was the LITTLE brother who took it, not him.

And, we are honest in our dealings once again.

The moral of this story: Get a milkman.

halloween

It was a happy, sweet, sticky, gooey, friend-filled, sugary, partying Halloween!

Hope yours was, too!

delay

My cute bitty boo has made such strides in his speech over the past few months.  He can say so many more words for food, for how he is feeling; he can tell me when things hurt and where and if he is cold or hot or sad.

But, sometimes, with some words, it is oh, so evident that he still struggles with his little speech delay.  He'll bound up to me, excited to tell me all about something that just happened.  And, when he is excited and trying to string many words together quickly, it comes out as garbled goop.  He repeats what he just said several times, using inflections and signs to give me clues, ever patient with my quizzical face, but often I still don't know what it is he is trying to say. In those situations, I just scoop him up and give him a hug, because what else can a clueless mommy do?

Today, however, our misunderstanding made me laugh.  Davis came to me and excitedly said "Snow!"  It snowed yesterday and the glorious sunshine of today makes it all so bright and beautiful.  Of course, he wanted to go out and make tracks in the snow.  So I said, "we need to put on your boots."  "Okay. Boots." We found them in the garage and tugged them on.  "Now we need your coat." "Coat!"  We zipped it up.  "How about some gloves?" "No. No gyuves"  But, I insist, because I know he'll try and pick up the snow and then his little fingers will be cold.  So, we pull and tug and tuck the gloves into place.  I walk over to the door to let him out.

"Ready to go, buddy? Ready to play in the snow?"
"No outside.  No snow.  Watch a show!"
"No, go play in the snow.  We put on your boots so you could play outside in the snow!"
"Watch a show!"

He runs (as best he can in his boots) for the steps and races down to the TV.

Oh, boy.  Well, at least he won't get chilly in the basement!

four weeks

Did I tell you we moved?  Here is what we've been doing for the past four weeks:

 

learning to walk

playing in the snow

unpacking boxes cupboards

running

making treats

enjoying the wind in our hair

It's been fun so far! Hope you'll come visit soon!

related

note: Another belated post, waiting for a picture.  So glad to have it now!

Ellie-Bee: Kate, you are my best friend!  Actually, you are my cousin.  No, I think you are my ancestor.

Kate: Mom, are both boys and girls called ancestors? Why are boys an-sisters?  They should be called an-brothers?

To our fabulous Burton Cousins....So glad you are ours, and you would come to visit!  Come back soon!

breathe

One of the things I look forward to the most is my Thursday morning Yoga class.  Michelle is the best teacher, so in order to make it to her early class, I load up my dressed-fed-packed brood at 8:10 am, drop the big kids off at the bus stop (waving 'I love you' til the bus rounds the bend), check in the babies at child-watch ('look bubbles!' and toy distractions as I sneak out and try to ignore the tears), and {finally} enjoy an hour to breathe.

Delightful.

Last night, sleep was alluding my Davis (although he refused his nap, so I'm not sure why).  He was awake for a good portion of the early morning hours, which means he, of course, fell back asleep about 5am and slept until 9am.  I missed yoga.

As a {not very close} substitute, I trudged my babies and mat down to the basement to yoga with a recorded teacher on the DVR.  She's not as good, and, quite frankly, the focus isn't there when young ones are crawling all over your downward dog and piggy backing on you child's pose.  But, what can you do?

I was feeling a little bit sorry for myself until I noticed my Doobie Doo following along.  He had spread out a blanket as a mat and was working his sun salutations with the best of 'em.  "I did it!" he shouted, when he bent over for down dog.  My self-pity melted away in my awe of this cutie and his desire to follow in my footsteps, do the things I do, garner my praise.

My 'class' was cut short by a little body crawling into my lap while I was trying to forward fold.  But, as I lifted her up, and she arched her back toward  my mat for a belly tickle (her favorite giggle pose), I felt like my morning had gone BETTER than planned.  And, my body felt good.  Not because I had been sufficiently able to stretch, but because I took a minute to breathe, to see my children for the wonder that they are, and to just 'be' in this blessed time of my life.

Ahhhh.

grandma great

update: camera cord located!  Hooray!  See photo below.

I came around the corner to find a blanket lump on the couch.  Giggles came from underneath.  It was Kate and Grandma Great, huddled beneath the throw, playing a game and loving their time together.

I often think back to the way Grandma was when I was a girl: energetic, busy, fun.  She's a lot slower now. Her mind isn't as sharp and her energy isn't as high.  But, one thing that hasn't changed is the way she is quick to laugh and the way she enjoys children.  My kids have loved having their Grandma Great visit this week.  They have played games and cuddled and made each other laugh.  Davis learned to say 'Grandma Great.'  Kate and Grandma had a 'sleepover' in her room.  Dallin gave her a piano concert.

The blessing of knowing and loving their great grandmother is priceless to me.  Thank you, Dad and Mom, for coming to visit and for bringing her along.  We miss you, all three!

Grandma and wearing a 'balloon hat' lovingly created by these silly kids!

found

What have you been up to lately?  Me?  I've been packing. And packing.

It is funny what you come across as you load up all your earthly possessions into cardboard boxes....

* A love note written from a love-sick BYU student to her 'long distance' (clear in Salt Lake) boyfriend. Oh the memories!
* The first letter Dallin ever wrote, to his cousin Carson, when we had just moved here and Dallin was in kindergarten.  The printing is precious, the accompanying illustration darling.  It was sent and then returned by my smart sis who knew I'd want to keep it in his book for always!
* And this:

Shouldn't it be considered 'vintage' at this point?  Why, you may ask, do I still have this lovely pastel Caboodles case?  It makes a GREAT storage compartment for Chad's shoe polish. ;)

funny things...

...I've noticed lately:

*My baby LOVES babies!  She loves to rock and give her dolls a bottle.  Today she tried to take her doll for a 'walk' in the stroller.  Problem is, she doesn't know how to walk herself.  How can a girl who is still such a baby herself love to play mommy?
* Bitty boy is talking more and has started to SING his little heart out.  I guess I shouldn't say 'start' since he has been singing for a long time, but now I can tell which song he is performing.  Not so much because I can understand the words, but this boy has great rhythm and pitch!
*Sissy is getting so long and lanky.  She has always loved to dangle from a ledge we have in our house, but now her feet reach the floor!  When did she get so big?
* Mr. D is so darling with his face full of grown-up teeth.  Maybe he won't have as awkward an awkward stage as his mother had to suffer!
*I'm not very good at taking pictures of all these great little moments.  But, I did take some one-year-old shots of this cutie.  Enjoy!

glued

College football season started yesterday. Much to my chagrin.  One person in this house, however, is ecstatic!

Make that two. 
Nothing like a perfectly still 'customer' (GLUED to the game) when you want to play beauty parlor!

Our Summer, in Pictures: August

baby got big

There are no words....I love this girl beyond beyond!

bittersweet

The first day back...

 the bitter:
* saying 'goodbye' to the long, lazy days of summer
*sending these kids off to just grow up some more...really can't anyone figure out a way to stop that?
*earlier wake-up times
*earlier bedtimes (at least in theory)
*another season written in the books....did we have enough fun to last 'til next summer???
*watching Kate nervously find her way to 1st grade...I didn't know she'd be scared!

the sweet:
*saying 'hello' to more structure and organization that comes with fall
*sending these cute kids off into the world to learn and grow...oh, how they make me proud!
*earlier wake-up times are good for me (right?)
*earlier bedtimes for mom, too (in theory)
*another season written in the books...it was a glorious summer, wasn't it?
*seeing Dal wave me off with a 'see ya later, Mom' and no worries at all....when did my baby get so big?

Grandpa O. 1922-2011

Grandpa.
A builder, fixer, gardener, tinkerer
A missionary, testifier, teacher
A writer, family history keeper, genealogist
A veteran, a peacemaker
Father, Grandpa and Grandpa Great.

I will miss you so!

Our Summer, in Pictures: July

Plus, This is the Place park...I don't have pictures of that day, but it was oh, so fun to see our cousins dressed in their pioneer garb at the Rich house!