Elementary Graduate

Aspen graduated from Elementary. There was a 5th grade program. Because Aspen is the kind of child who wants to grow up, she was super excited to be graduating and moving on. She warned me, however, that I would cry at the graduation.

All the children did a Zombi dance, then a video made by them, was shown. It was academy award style where Aspen took home the fairness and justice award. How fitting. She is quite the advocate for fairness.

It wasn't until the cute baby/toddler pictures of the children started coming on the screen while some sappy Taylor Swift song about "don't you ever grow up" played, that I almost welled up. Almost. But I held it at bay thinking that Aspen was excited, so I should be too!

Then the Ellis rendition of "So Long, Farewell" from The Sound of Music was performed with waves of good bye as the curtain closed.

It was a fun night. All the children were excited since there were still two days left of school.

Hard to believe we are entering the teenage years and middle school. Opportunities and hard times await. As the mom, I am trying not to fear the hard times that will come. Young life is tricky. I hope I can navigate this new mothering stage with confidence in Aspen and what I have already taught her.

Here is my graduate!

With friends, Whitney, and Beatriz

Aspen and Beatriz with Mrs. Burton- Aspen loved Mrs. Burton

Sunshine

Last year at this time my feet were in stirrups while my newborn baby lay on the outside of my tummy limp and purplish. Arriving spread eagle with all limbs stretched to their capacity, Dr. Kirkman declared "Dad's seen these parts before!"

There she was, our fourth baby girl. Ten fingers, ten toes, a Perkins head and  nose and looking like others of our bunch. I was elated with tears of joy at her arrival. All the trepidation of not knowing her gender for 9 months led to the ultimate in surprises.

Mick was speechless. He was sure God had told him we were having a boy. So sure, that he was in complete shock after realizing what he thought he saw, was only an umbilical cord. After a second of heartbreak from a dream departed, I saw his heart fall completely in love again as he participated in a glorious arrival of another one of our children.

I was certain girl number four was coming. I prepared for and accepted her arrival before she was conceived. It was a package deal I owed myself. Given to me for immediate skin to skin, I rubbed her bloody and fresh new cottage cheese covered skin as she began to pink up crying out for air. I couldn't take my eyes off her.

No words best describe the feeling in my motherly heart during those first tender moments Sunny was thrust into our Earthly sphere from the Heavens, but it was nothing short of the highest degree of satisfaction and joy any human can experience. This I know for assurity.

She had been a long time in coming. 4.5 years after her nearest sibling and what seemed like nine months of non-stop pregnancy illness, she began her entrance by a month of random hard throbbing back contractions and throwing me into 20 plus hours of back labor.

It was Friday, May fourth. Mick was finishing up his shift for the week. Ruth was here helping with the kids while I labored. Feeling bored and in pain while waiting for Mick's shift to end, I went for a short walk, played Frisbee with the girls and tried to keep my pain in check. Off an hour early, Mick and I took our last family of five photo and made our way to the hospital via the Pita Pit for my last supper. It only took me three births to learn that I labor so much more productively when not on a diet of ice chips and water.

In the hopes of holding out for a natural delivery I had always wanted, I tried every tactic of coping that I knew. Mick and I walked the halls stopping every minute or so to lean against the wall while he pressed on my back. There were breathing techniques, counter pressure to my knees, and the contractions began to get intense. After another walk when we heard a mom push a newborn into the world, I turned to Mick in tears and said, "I'm tired of being a hero, let's just get this baby here".

Immediately a low dose epidural was in and I could still feel pain ( I hate not being able to feel anything!), only it was bearable. My water was broken and an hour later I was ready to push. Contorted into some Yoga pose and sitting up (a welcome change!), I was finally able to get this baby past my messed up pelvis and broken tail bone in two big pushes! With the help of forceps (again), she arrived at 11:25 pm. Weighing 8lbs and 21 inches long she was a perfectly beautiful surprise beginning to a new journey.

While in the hospital, she was named Laken, and a few other names I now can't recall. We had a difficult time finding a name that fit. Not one of them felt right. In our last few moments before check out and under what seemed like penalty of death before ever leaving the hospital with an unnamed baby, Mick called home for reinforcements. After proposing every name we both agreed upon to the girls, out of the blue, He asked "What about Sunshine? Instantly I loved the idea, having had it as one of my favorite names, and I told Mick, that's it! I just knew that was her name. As hippy sounding as it was. The vote was unanimous with the girls and within minutes Sunshine was written in ink on that stressful yellow paper, strapped in her monstrous car seat and on her way home with us for good!

Three days after delivery I was diagnosed with having Peripartum Cardiomyopathy which is the technical term for pregnancy related heart failure which can occur in the mother pre or post partum. I was back in the hospital for a myriad of testing. On complete bed rest for three days with the promise of getting better or the threat of getting worse, I was given a priesthood blessing of healing and comfort, which I fully credit to my recovery. My awesome friend Vanessa helped get me to the Doctors office, my mother in law was here to care for the kids and then mom came on Mother's day to serve me and my family. Never before had I questioned my mortality and had to face it head on. It was a scary, precious time for me which taught me many lessons in faith, love and service and the miraculous workings of the human body. 

Over the first couple weeks, no one wanted to give Sunny up for someone else to take a turn holding her. There were a few arguments and feeling were hurt. Lucky for me I was nursing so I got my opportunity to steal her on false pretenses when needed. We all enjoyed having a new babe in our home. It really was a special time!

As the hardest baby of the bunch, I look back on the last year of our time together and am quite proud I made it through the many challenges. Sunny and I have come so far together and are quite the buddies! This past year has been busy and Sunny has been a trooper joining us all the while. Just recently has she showed resistance to getting in her carseat. She's a trooper! I love her so much and she will always be one of the best decisions I ever changed my mind about!

Today was a busy day with soccer, sun, meetings and fun. We had a picnic lunch at the castle park as a family and invited Ethel-Lee and Katrina over for dinner and late birthday festivities of present unwrapping and cake eating. When placing Sunny in her high chair, she grabbed a handful of yellow frosting from her number 1 cake and was in heaven! We had a ball watching her make her way into a sugar coma. It's the simple things in life which make the perfect days.

Happy Birthday Baby Girl!


     

Denial

I am in denial that Sunny is turning one. My baby needs to stay a baby forever and it's not happening. It seems just yesterday that I could not wait to meet her and yet she has been with me for nearly a year. Time flies when busy.

And is has been busy. A busy year with the good, the awesome, the bad and the hard. But Sunny has made it all just that much better. She seems to be the cherry on top.

Sunny is beginning to look like she belongs and has immersed herself fully into the Perkins Clan as one of the ladies. She is spunky and loves to make us all smile and giggle at her, especially when she scrunches her nose, puckers her lips and blows air in and out her nose. She loves to be held when she's sleepy and set out to explore when she isn't hungry, otherwise, she eats non stop.

I find that she has a special relationship will each sister and they love her too. She is a special kid and I am so happy she is in our family. Love all my ladies. I am a blessed mom.

Abbie

Abbie enjoyed preschool this year. We were able to carpool with neighborhood friends, Benji and Pearson. She has adored these boys, especially Benji. In fact she might have a small crush, but I don't think she knows those even exist, so she just loves purely and it is sweet to see.

I must admit that some of my best laughs of each day came from picking up this cute bunch and listening to their conversations. 4/5 year olds are the funnest age! Still cute, full of personality and fun facts to share, and not too lippy.

Here is Abbie with head teacher, Megan on the last day of lab. Megan and her student teachers made the classroom activities so fun this year. Abbie enjoyed all her days and was quite a leader to her friends. She gets along with most people well.

We are all signed up for a few more weeks of preschool for the summer. The boys are joining us and I will continue to watch Benji daily until his mom returns from work. The system works out well and Abbie loves having a play buddy for the day. 

Spring

Seasons are good. Each one breathes new life into me. I am grateful for what I get to look forward to with each new switch up. The energy is tangible and I crave it.

Winter is fading away as the white remnant of its stay is no longer visible. I have found that I love the snow, just not always the coldness that comes with it. So I am sad to see it go and grateful at the same time. In a few days the ladies and I will get ready for next year by purchasing season ski passes. Two of us could not be more excited and the other two have no idea of the the joy that awaits them.

Next up, rain.
Rain.
And some more rain.

Spring is on the horizon and with its sunshine comes new life. What do I love about Spring? The magic of buds busting and flowers shooting their stems through cold soil for a taste of the sun and warmth. I feel like a flower stem who  can barely suck up enough sunshine in my walks and quick ventures outside. Over this past weekend I was able to escape to Provo and bask in her 70 degree temps. It was a slice of heaven before returning to Utah's cold north country.

What I can hardly wait for is Summer. Adventures in the sun. The freedom of schedules. Summer at the gardeners market with music in the air and people purchasing my hand crafted creativity. People buying what I make has a satisfaction all its own. For now the making keeps me busy doing something that is mine alone, and the random purchases from strangers and friends spark a level of happiness I never knew existed.

H e Double Hockey Stick and I'm Feeling Better From Yesterday

I think my hormones are playing tricks on me. Or at least that is where I'm placing all the blame. For the past few weeks I have been attempting to ween Sunny and have been having an emotional roller coaster ride. It has not been kicks and giggles. Weening, this time around, has been difficult.

There have been moments where I have been slightly(or, maybe extremely is a more accurate word) over emotional and irritated. In fact just today I might have spoken the word hell out loud as in "you are bugging the hell out of me" to my children... while they had friends over. Oops, not my finest moment. I could have sworn I only thought it, but then it just spewed out my lips like cheeks bursting with milk.

My kids might be accustomed to my second language (Spanish, French, English, Cursing...), albeit in a slightly less personal and derogatory way, and more of a "Good hell! Who just forgot to take a bath inside the tub instead of on the bathroom floor?" sort of way. However, I did not mean to introduce their friends to it. I apologized profusely to these two young ladies and to my children, but forgiveness will be a tell tale sign when and if my children's friend's parents allow them to play again.

(Note to self, write an apology to parents.)

I feel horrible at the same time that I laugh at my stupidity of actions during a moment of frustration. Try and try again. That is my motto.

Oh the joys of womanhood, parenthood, motherhood and Jenhood...

I am wondering if this has happened to anyone else? Not the swearing, because I'm sure you all know how to peaceably contain your frustrated selves, but the hormone-roller-coaster-during-weening-a-breastfeeder, mess. Anyone?

Side note: I cannot wait to have my breasts back, my body back, my brain back and hopefully some normal hormones back- if indeed they ever return.

After weening three previous babies, one would think I knew that this ride was coming, but I don't remember it. Not one bit. Maybe it's akin to forgetting childbirth?

Anyhow, that was today. Now on to tomorrow and hoping no one sets me off so much that I actually voice my swearing to their faces again.

Tonight I feel bad

Although I know I shouldn't let certain things overwhelm/sadden/bring me down, they sure do sometimes and tonight would be that time.

Like for instance:

I wish I was a better listener of my children. I know for the most part I try as well as possible, but I miss that my eyes escape theirs in my haste to get stuff done at the same time as I listen. I listen less effectively when I cannot look at the person speaking. I wonder if my children sense that and feel my lack of attention during my multitasking. I think they do and it breaks my heart. Why do clones of mothers not exist? I could sure use one.

The older I get the more I realize exactly how little or how much I do during my daily grind, truly does not matter, yet I have to do them. In the big scheme of life what will truly matter is how we treated other people. I know this and yet I forget it in my need to get the laundry done, the children ready, keep the husband happy and find some sanity time.

Wonder woman may exist in science fiction, but she does not in real life. I know this fact. Still I feel that I should be doing more or being more and I feel guilty I'm not. Limits are placed upon me due to choices and circumstance but I also place them upon myself because of fear of change or fear of being unable to meet my most important obligations at the levels I have fairly or unfairly placed them at.

I think about people often, I pray for them, but I never contact them. I feel rushed and busy throughout each day that I tell myself I will write grandma, call Jeff, visit Marie and so on and so on when the children go to bed, or when they are quieter, or when Mick gets home. Do these perfect times exist? No. I also know this too. Still, I wait. I put people off and those people never know how important they are to me, and man does this make me sad and angry with myself. I wish I could give people all of what I have given them in the past, but I can't keep up. I also feel like I serve people I love the least in an attempt to love them more and then I end up setting aside the ones I love the most. Something is seriously wrong with that last sentence.

It makes me sad that being married lumps me into a pair of brains and people think that I have the same opinion as my husband, when actually it is usually always the contrary. I wish I was seen as Jen more and not just Mick's wife or the Perkins Family. I am one separate entity of a whole whose whole does not ever agree on everything, but always has to compromise. Because I am good at compromising, I get lumped and the injustice hurts. It stinks, really.



 

"There Are Dreams That Cannot Be and There Are Storms We Cannot Weather"

Fear does not typically regulate my life. There are very few actual fears which elicit terror in me.

Spiders have been known to on occasion and I despise basements for this sole reason. If need be I can muster the courage to take one out and win every time. Each kill a small victory over fear of such miniscule beasts. My biggest fear, if I'm honestly admitting, is the fear of failure or rejection. They are one and the same for me. This fear likely regulates more in my daily life than I care to think about or divulge. A sad tale to be sure. Steadily, silent victories put me one step closer to kicking failure or rejection to the curb. For now though, the three of us are sitting over in the tall grass and getting mighty sick of it.

A new fear has been creeping its tentacles ever so slowly around me. Threatening to swallow me whole. For years I have been sinking under its pressure, riding its tide in and out of my life. Only recently have I given it a name and understood it more fully. I fear suffocating.

Not in a typical sense of literally not being able to breathe, but as a metaphor for not being able to keep breathing the way I planned, the way I dreamed. I fear I may suffocate if personal plans change, if my dreams go a rye. I fear that I am literally suffocating or being suffocated.
Extinguished out.
Kaput.
Done.

This has me grappling for firm soil and figuring out just what my roots are. It has me reaffirming my faith in my beliefs. It has me fighting hard to maintain personal dreams, beliefs, and ambitions. I feel that while I'm in the box, per say, there is a means out, shortly. But sometimes I wonder if I am just in the thick of change making its way for the better and I am resisting. Oh am I resisting and quite frankly, losing. I don't want to lose.

Which leads me to yesterday.

Yesterday I felt like a piece of paper whose corners and edges were burning, the white spaces disappearing and dwindling in the fight. I gave in allowing the flames to lick me up. I got sad. Then I got mad and cleaned the house in a wild furry and lashed out at everybody. When I finished that, I began to finish quilting Mick's late birthday present. At such a hurried angered pace I cried my eyeballs out and tired not to drip snot on the deep blue fabric.

In short. It was an ugly sight. I felt suffocated by my beautiful, great, miserable life that I feel like is never how I want it to be. How can I feel like this? I get angry at myself for having to ask myself this question.

The older I get, the more I take on, the less I feel my life is mine. In an effort to give my best, and I always try to give it my best, I have to let some things slide. When I rid them, then I feel hopeless and suffocated as if nothing will change. Because those things that slide or have to be removed to let other things in, are my things. My things. Things rooted so deep in me that at times it is terribly painful to see them being forced out.

Do all dreams have to die? Do all our mortal plans have to be snuffed out for the benefit of something better that we cannot understand? Is this what growing up means and I have finally, after 35 years, attained grown up status... well almost? If it is, my whole heart screams in rebellion.

I just want to be me. All of me. I like the parts that seem to be fading. I need them. I crave them like chocolate or oatmeal for breakfast. I need to chase my dreams and have them come true.

So what did Mick do during my tyraid?

Poor guy doesn't always know what to do when I blow my top. He stared at me a while, no doubt in awe of the spectacle performance. He says he's thinking when he does that. I finally calmed down and came into reality when the baby needed to eat- always doing the best I can, the best I should. In the meantime Mick had organized a relief party of one. Katrina the babysitter would come a few short hours later and he would take the three big kids out to lunch and grocery shopping.

What a gem!

I got the baby to bed. Finished the quilt. Packed it all away, cleaned some more and took a nice long hot shower to get ready for our impending date. We were going to see Les Miserables. How fitting.

Fear of suffocation was leaving me. Hope was starting to show up.

We stopped by a quaint little antique shop in town, tried to buy a crepe- too busy- and made our way to see Les Miserables.

Though not forced into prostitution to save my child and myself after many physical and emotional hardships, my heart felt true solidarity and empathy as Fantine (Anne Hathaway) sang "I dreamed a dream". Never before have I sat in a darkened theater and wept along with an actress on the big screen feeling similar feeling in my heart. Just that day, a mere hours earlier I told Mick that I felt like I was living someone's dream, everyone else's dream, but not mine. I wanted to live mine. What about my dreams? I asked him. I have always done what I'm told, done what I should, done what is best or good or right. What about the dreams I have wanted for my life that get swept under the carpet for later or never? When can I have them be mine? I have made all the choices that led me here and here is a fine spot, I just want better.

Fantine, how I understood your heart.

On the drive home Mick says taking my hand, "You know that one song Anne Hathaway sang by herself after her hair was cut".
"Yes", I replied as tears returned to my eyes remembering my empathy.
"Her singing that song helped me understand where you were coming from today". He reassured me that things will get better. "Just think of all the older ladies you know. They've done it all. They made it through life." He reminded me that my dreams will come. That I can do these hard things right now, today.

Thank you Fantine, for dreaming a dream and not being afraid to admit it was far different from your reality. 
 http://www.metatube.com/en/videos/165246/Anne-Hathaway-Sings-I-Dreamed-A-Dream-FULL-SONG-From-Les-Miserables/
Thank you Anne Hathaway, for one-take acting/singing wonders that stirred mine and my husband's heart.
Thank you Mick, for understanding.

        

I've been thinking...

...and I like to think.

Thinking is good.

On average I think up at least one blog post per day. They are usually well written, not to mention well thought out and organized. Typing it out of my fingers never happens(enter all excuses here). Then the post is gone, lost forever with the mass of brain activity passing through my busy mom brain.

A problem, only because I need to write to get thoughts out of my brain because only then are they finalized and make sense.

My most recent brain posts, in a nutshell which will likely not make sense:

1) I love being a mom. I love Sunny. Sometimes I tell her I love her little turkey drumstick thighs as I nibble on them a little. She giggles then I giggle. All I could think when she crawled today was NO! Her movement means I'm doing my job and she is doing her job. She is growing. Growing is good. I am taking care of her. I am doing it well.
I am so happy I finally dared to have #4. What was I so afraid of? Oh right, all the stuff about parenting that I don't like. Stress, anxieties, sleep loss, spoon feeding, another schedule to lump on top of the already full five, loss of me time, loss of me, stagnancy of the mundane and remembering I will be in this routine for a few more years. The funny thing about it, is I know I chose it. 
Then as I even consider or give voice to the bad, the negative, I feel guilty. I feel guilty because the good is so sweet, because I am so blessed to have cute turkey legs to nibble on. I feel guilty because society, church, people who love me prefer I only give attention to the good and ignore the bad. I feel guilty because I find it incredibly inauthentic to do that, try as I may.
Next I get angry because I feel like I can't be 100% of myself 100% of the time to 100% of the people in my life.
In short, life is hard and I feel like I spin in the above circle constantly and that I am the only human being there.

2. I really need to start exercising... bad! I am just too lazy to put in the effort of visiting with a cardiologist, speaking with a dietitian, then putting an exercise plan in place. I also wish I was still getting paid to exercise.

3. Liberty is doing so much better in school this year. Sure makes my mommy heart happy to see her hard work paying off. Sure makes my mommy heart sad when kids make fun of her for wearing glasses and having braces. I pray that I will always have the ability to understand her struggles and know how I can help her.

4. Thinking I want to start a new blog and phase this one out. There is more than just mommy hood to celebrate, discuss and write about. Still thinking on a catchy name. Thinking I might chicken out even though I feel like I shouldn't.

5. My goals this year. Study for the G.R.E. Decide what field to study. Make progress in that direction.  Prepare to help earn money for the family and plan the right time to do it.

?

Is there anybody out there?

Newest Installment

We had our family pictures taken. Actually, Mick and I or whomever was most accessible to press the shutter, took the pictures. Professional pictures are awesome, but when budget determines self sufficiency, we get creative.

They turned out well enough considering we had good light, a tripod and auto function to help us. Also, Mick has some natural photography talent for seeing a good angle. I give him props for not making my post pregnancy body look too horrible. There is zero bounce back after kid #4.

It becomes apparent during each year's photo shoot why I only remember taking one family photo growing up. Family photos can make a mom ornery and over anal. Two characteristics that should not go together.

To my credit, I did try to keep it fun and not too serious. We played tag afterwards, and I let the kids build some nature creations and decide where they wanted their photo taken. But really, should it be that hard for everyone to be perfect angels for one hour? Just one hour? Looking in the same direction with smiles or a non-crusty look on their faces? Not messing with their sister? I have girls, shouldn't this have been like a mini modeling session?

No. It is was a nightmare, plus a baby.

Good news is that pictures are over, and we got a few decent ones to update our wall and the picture walls of loved ones. Also, I no longer have to pay an arm and a leg for boring school photos- Hooray! Maybe that means I might actually get to buy my long desired kayak?

Sure feels good to dream.

Oatmeal Lace

The other day I was experiencing a HOLY-CRAP-I-AM-WORN-OUT moment. I found myself wishing for the days that were simpler. When all I had to do was decide what I should wear that day or if I would run into my favorite people at school, or if my mom knew she was going to need to drive me to dance practice later that night. But of course she knew. She was the mom. Moms know and keep track of everything. Moms are accountable, by love, to the little people in their lives.

So I set it all aside. I put down my never ending list, intent to slow down, and baked some cookies. Out of eggs, Oatmeal Lace became the recipe of circumstance. Abbie and I methodically measured and poured, mixed, staggered, and baked. Unaware at the time that this very act would tie me to the core of my longing.

Simpler times.

The fresh baked cookies slithered down my throat like the goodness of old memories. Buttery goodness that is soft on the inside, crunchy on the edge. Much like life. Hard at first, but perfectly great at the heart of it.  Upon my first bite as their holes hit my tongue and the buttered oatmeal wafted up my nostrils, my eyes welled, remembering the hall kitchen at 1020 East 300 North. Strange how a scent sent me so far back...

I would sit on mom's kitchen floor, my back against the wall, while mom in between busing herself, would pull these beauties out of the oven. Likely unsure of simple worries in those teenage moments, mom made all of mine evaporate with the steam of a plate full of Oatmeal Lace.

Maybe at those moments, mom's worries evaporated too. Maybe she needed to get back to simplicity by cookie making. Could she have seen more acutely, like I was, the unimportant holes or expectations she could drop out of her life? Could she finally get a picture of the map of trails that set her priorities in order?

I served up cookies across the bar while Liberty, Aspen and Abbie devoured them, carefully inspecting their tiny holes and crunchy chewiness. I watched them. I looked into their eyes. We talked, we laughed, we enjoyed one another without the push of life. Time with who matters most made me feel invigorated. Made me remember that mom lived through the harried times. She made it, I can too. Life slowed down for an instant before the race began again.

What a treat from August!.

Scott and Pam Fullmer delivered us two bushels of hand picked! peaches from Scott's parents' Brigham City orchard. They have been mouth watering squishy delights. But shh, it's a secret they did just for us. What great friends to have.

Since then we have, bottled, dried, leathered, frozen, baked and consumed peaches in mass quantity. The Peach leather is gone (note to self, make more next year and hide it) it was Aspen's favorite. Lib has been requesting peaches and milk often. Abbie likes them from the bottle. Mick enjoyed the peach crisp I made a few nights back, and I might have even served warmed peach pie and ice cream from breakfast. 

Mmm, nothing quite like a fresh peach pie! Definitely my favorite peach dish. This one was delicious, but not pretty looking around the edges. I steal time from things I know don't matter in the long run. Crust prettiness was that day's time saver.

Four months

Sunny celebrated turning 4 months by going on a date with Mick and I to her first Aggie football game. The game was a nail-biter against the Utes. Aggies won with Sunny's good luck. Sunny peacefully slept or enjoyed the noise and colors of the atmosphere. She was good sport.

13.5 lbs

24.5 inches long

All Aggie!

My Dancer?

She had to wear this lovely number

Abbie has been begging to take Ballet. We made her wait until this fall for new classes to begin. She is attending a Jazz/Tap/Ballet class at Dance Illusion. I love this studio because they offer fun and good technique. Two important requisites for loving and learning dance.

Abbie might be my dancer. She loves it and is learning quite well. I love to sneak peaks at her practicing. She is the youngest in her class, just a tiny thing, but quite capable. I know she loves it because just last night at the park, she spent her entire time "performing" on top of a picnic table.

So far we have enjoyed commuting by bike or feet downtown to dance in the afternoon. Class is before school lets out for the older girls, so the time and exercise has been nice. I particularly enjoy perusing the bookstore across the street while Sunny sleeps. One day I walked across town to the bank. Let us hope the snow stays at bay for a while.

Abbie's last first day of preschool

On the morning of her first day of preschool, Abbie was chomping at the bit to go. She could not wait. When I attempted to take some pictures, there was no holding still for long.

So far she is enjoying her time away from home and tells me "school is so fun mom..."

Last Tuesday as we were getting ready, I reminded her she needed her show and tell item. She said she didn't want to take anything. Next thing I hear she is coming downstairs saying "mom, I got some ponies for ho and tell". I busted a gut. Her antics make my mornings. She is such an animated, funny, charming little girl.

This year for preschool, we are carpooling with two other people. It is extremely nice. It is equally as entertaining to hear the children converse on the way home. I love age four. It truly is my favorite age of children.

Quote of the Day

"Sometimes we must give up what we want now for what we want most"

In hindsight, decisions were a cake walk when I was young. Knowing each right decision would lead to something better was easy enticement for sacrificing in the moment and getting me closer to what I knew I wanted most. 

Like purchasing new school clothes and waiting to wear them until the first day, therefore making the first day of the year that much better. Or taking a trip to New Zealand over taking drivers education in order to be able to drive right when I was 16. I knew one of those choices came along only once in a lifetime. I would be older than 16, forever. There is not enough time to mention the many occasions I avoided certain social outing in order to maintain personal integrity. Even the choice to be a dirt poor married couple so both Mick and I could go to and graduate college, seemed reasonably easy to make.  

Now that I'm here in tunnel vision mommy land, one of the places where I wanted most to be, I find that I struggle with deciding what is most important and what it is I am willing to give up in order to get there. Maybe it's the thick tunnel darkness that seems to go on forever and makes it hard to see the light at the end. Or the seemingly menial tasks that I feel never get me ahead and make me feel crazy.

Incidentally, tonight I chose to have family time instead of going to Zumba. Let me just say that because of my day, I should have gone to Zumba for a great escape, for exercise, for clarity of mind, but I chose not to. I could not let my actions teach my children that they were less important than Zumba. Not going to lie, it still hurts to give up what we want now, but I love these little people more. After our family time, I knew I had made the right choice. But for the record, I am not giving up Zumba on Wednesday. This crazy mom needs it.   

First Day of School

This years first day of school went by so quickly for me. I baked our usual back to school cookies, relaxed and enjoyed some peace and quiet and life with two kids again. Aspen said she could smell the back to school cookies when she was walking home. I remember telling my mom that. I recall the scent of the first day of school with cookies. The culmination of a new day with new friends and new teachers must be balanced out by the comforting scent of home-baked cookies welcoming you home. What a great, yummy tradition. Abbie missed the girls terribly. It was a good thing she wasted a few hours by sleeping in until 10 AM.

Aspen is in her last year at Ellis Elementary. I cannot believe that my baby will be a middle schooler after this year. Times flies. She is blossoming into quite the young lady. She is such a good helper with chores. I will miss her while she is at school. This year she didn't mind me walking her to school because we had Sunny and Sunny is still cool. Thank goodness someone is still cool in this family. Sending her on her last first day of Elementary made me a bit sad, nostalgic and excited all at the same time. After feeling this way, I find it a given that I will miss my kids being little, just like all the old ladies tell me I will. I did not believe them about 6 years ago.   

Liberty is now an upperclassman. Being in third grade opens up a myriad of opportunities. She could join the choir, chime choir, learn to play some instruments and go to the big kid activities. No worries though, she is not a little joiner like her older sister. She is content with computers, library and recess. She did mention that she loves PE. I love that she is happy with simple things. I love that she is a good friend and such a helper with Sunny. She is such a good playmate with Abbie, that her spunk and fun attitude will be missed while at school.

We are looking forward to a great year with awesome teachers in Mrs. Frandsen (Liberty) and Mrs. Burton (Aspen)

How wild to think that next year Abbie will be in Kindergarten! Crazy.

PS: My favorite first day of school note:

Peach Delight

Brigham City has a new Temple. We were lucky enough to take the girls and tour the temple with them. I love that the church offers this opportunity for families, members and nonmembers alike. The girls were so excited to attend. It was a special event for the girls to see inside of a temple and Aspen and Liberty are looking forward to attending the temple dedication with me. I am equally excited to go with them.

Riding the bus back from the temple

Before the tour started, Sunny started getting fussy. I nursed her during the introduction video, but afterward, she was still not happy. I strapped her in the wrap hoping she would calm and we could enjoy our silent tour in the rear of our large group. No such luck. She started screaming, so I sent the girls and Mick on with out me. Soon they all came back out. Seeing my frustration, a temple worker came and asked to see Sunny. "I have years of experience and 26 grandchildren", she told me. In my mind I was thinking, good luck lady! as I handed Sunny over to her. Sunny is hard to calm down. Soon enough, Sunny got a burp up. "Oh, it was just a little bubble" said the grandma. Sunny was as good as gold after that and we then got our own private silent walking tour around the temple.

Temple flower(s)

I enjoyed all the peach blossom sentiments throughout. The marble floors were exquisite. I also like the round windows, mostly because I've always been a sucker for round windows. They are so quaint, fishbowl like and not like the others. The girls were blown away by the shear size and glitz of the chandelier in the celestial room. It was massive and beautiful. If anything, the tour was a mock art gallery as well. Many of the paintings caught my eye. Down in the baptistery there is a mural I could have looked at for more than the 1 minute that I did.