two things right

As I was bringing up wood from the basement this morning, my heart just about melted when I looked up and saw those little girls sitting shoulder to shoulder in their jammies, “reading” their scriptures. Of course they squabble (frequently), but when it boils down to it, those two are best buddies. They love each other so much. And it makes me so happy that they are beginning to love the scriptures, too.

I feel like I did a lot of wheel-spinning today. I took both those pictures before nine o’clock this morning, and it was reassuring — after a long, wheel-spinning kind of day — to sit down to blog those photos and remember that at least I did two things right today — and maybe a few more, besides. What did you do right today?

stressors, revealed

This morning I woke up and told R about my dream, in which I was in the Army, parachuting into Afghanistan. We were all wearing enormous packages of SAF instant yeast on our chests, which is what the insurgents aimed their guns at. If shot, it would cause a huge cloud of yeast, which would make you really tired. Four of the soldiers got shot down. Later, after I’d spoken to R on the phone, I took a cell phone from one of the dead soldier’s pockets, and it was R’s cell phone, which really confused me and freaked me out.

When I was done explaining all this, R just smiled and said, “Wow, I guess you’re not stressed about Afghanistan and yeast or anything.” It made me laugh really hard — mostly because I hadn’t realized what an obvious giveaway about my stressors the dream was.

Today was the 10th — and last — day of my wheat/sugar elimination diet. I started to feel doubtful about the necessity of doing it, so I thought about it and prayed about it, and the answer that came was — moderation. Despite being a little disappointed in myself for not seeing it through, I do feel a lot better than I did 10 days ago. I think that, so long as I can be moderate in my home use of commercial yeast, everything will be just fine.

And I have to say — I haven’t just run off and snarfed down all the sugary/wheaty treats I’ve been craving for the past 10 days. I had a sandwich at lunch, and R made some freaking amazing carrot/apple/fennel/orange juice (oranges were my #1 craving), but I really don’t feel the need — or even want — to go eat a bunch of sugar. Which is a pretty good feeling indeed.

security

The wood stove is the heart of our home. It sits in the center of the house, and when it’s roaring, the furnace never kicks on. I love building fires (though I’m not very good at it) — not because I’m a big pyro, but because almost always, one or both of the girls will stop what they’re doing to come snuggle with me and stare at the fire. Well melt my little mommy heart.

Anyway — the stove eats wood. It’s eaten nearly two cords in the month we’ve been here. So today, Andy the wood guy delivered a couple more cords (we didn’t believe him when he said we’d need 12 to get through the winter).

I had a hard time putting this pretty little log on the stack. I love all the mosses and lichens and ferns in the woods here.

Suddenly, security is starting to look a lot less like having a Target within a 15-mile radius — and more like a couple of cords of wood.

autumn in fast-forward

If there was ever a perfect season in which to drive the length of the country from south to north, Autumn is the time. Oh, the colors. The absolute riot of colors.

The day we left Georgia, it was still flip-flop weather and the leaves were only starting to change. As we drove, the season began changing so rapidly that it was like watching a time-lapse sequence on National Geographic. It started somewhere north of Atlanta, exploded like a firecracker in southern Virginia and through the Carolinas, and gradually ebbed away as we hit West Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, and finally New York — where, in the northern extremity of the country, winter has all but begun.

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It is beautiful and humbling to me that we live in a country — in a world — where there is such diversity, such majesty, such glory. It makes me so thankful.

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And the drive? It went so well. Predictably, Both Lizzy and I had a couple of tantrums apiece. And predictably, Maren sat and sucked her thumb pretty much the whole time. Oh, those girls of mine. More details soon; I’m brewing a whole post of here’s-what-to-do-if-you-suddenly-have-to-drive-your-children-across-the-country-by-yourself. Oh yes.

positivism

Trying to be positive tonight in the face of some minor downers and annoyances — such as — baby had diarrhea in the bathtub; took baby out of tub; baby ran to living room and had diarrhea on the carpet. In two different places. Also, we were supposed to find out today about moving — but the guy R was supposed to talk to was at a combatives tournament, so no news. It took everything I had to refrain from screaming, “I KNEW IT!!!” (so I just yelled it instead). Today we also had a seriously botched seasonal sugar cookie-making session (cranky mama + cranky babies), so I called it quits and stuck the kids in front of the TV instead (said cookies have just come out of the oven, and I will probably eat half of them myself in an effort to self-medicate). I know, whine, whine, whine.

So about that trying to be positive thing — I have a loving family. We have a happy home. We have the gospel. And really — that’s enough.

I’m off to decompress with some boring things — namely, sugar cookies and books. Rock on.

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grateful

We’ve been experiencing a measure of uncertainty around here lately — no worries, just normal Army stuff (will they, won’t they). It was nice to remember yet again, holding these tiny seeds, that from small things, great things come to pass — that God is truly over all — that there is truly no need for worry when we’re doing our best to live as He would have us do.

Thanks for all the tips on the dresser. My pal Nicole pointed me toward this Washington Post article, which recommends lightly sanding laminate before priming and painting. Unfortunately, I hate sanding, but fortunately, another pal Jess has a very nice construction-man husband who happens to have a power sander. Hopefully we’ll get going on it this weekend, or at least sometime soon.

seven happy years

Saturday marked our sixth wedding anniversary (and over seven years since we met and started dating). Time keeps flying by; we are more in love now than ever. I never knew I could be so happy — so content — so complete.

R and I spent a happy hour on our anniversary looking through old photos from our days in Logan. This photo was taken in 2005 at Grand Teton National Park in the midst of an unforgettable two-day wild ride with our BFFs through the Tetons, Yellowstone, and a Galactic show where we rocked out with the rest of the pseudo-hippies in Jackson. It was such a happy, carefree time — we knew we had it good (we had free rent, for crying out loud) and that life would probably become more complex in the days ahead. But we’re learning — whatever else might happen, life is really only as complex as we make it — and in the end, all we really need is our faith and each other.

(Although we do miss those mountains.)

Here’s to us, love. You make life so very sweet.

for my mommy friends

This message about motherhood gave me peace and courage today. I hope you, too, will find affirmation in it.

weaned

Like all changing of seasons, this one has been gradual: I am no longer a nursing mother. I knew the change was complete the other day when, as I was undressing, Lizzy pointed to my chest and said, as she had so many times before, “Mommy’s milk.” And as I realized what I was about to say, I told her, “There’s no milk in there anymore, sweetheart. There’s only milk for tiny babies.” Lizzy thought a moment, then replied, “Maren’s a big baby.” Yes, sweetheart, she is.

Maren lost interest a month or two ago. I hung on for a while, giving her little snacks here and there, and she humored me for the most part, but hey, when there’s no milk, there’s no milk. I sort of wished it had lasted a little longer, but it is what it is, right?

Nursing this baby has been both sacred and healing for me — a haven of serenity, a welcomed rest, a place to sit down and let out a long-held sigh. I loved it when Maren would paw at my shirt front with a pleading gaze. Or her almost-maniacal giggle when I’d lay her on my lap and lift my shirt. My mom told me she’d prayed for this baby to be born with “a strong desire to suck,” and wow, was that prayer ever answered.

My attempts to nurse Lizzy were unsuccessful (poor diet + depression + lazy latcher), and my attempts with Maren would have met the same end had it not been for my mom’s unceasing support and efforts to educate me on the matter. The image I will always have of her from those early days of Maren’s life is of her handing me a carton of Ben and Jerry’s, saying, “It’ll make good milk for your baby.” (No, really. This was a near-daily occurrence.) I am so grateful that Maren and I got to enjoy nearly a full year of what has become a beautiful cornerstone of a loving, nurturing relationship between us.

So, thanks, Ben and Jerry’s. Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Maren. It’s been sweet.

(p.s. If you are into this sort of thing, check out Katrina’s wonderful photography project — At Mother’s Breast: Photographing the Beauty and Normalcy of Breastfeeding.)

one year later

I hope everyone — mommies, daughters, sisters, aunts, teachers, friends — everyone — had such a good Mother’s Day. I love this holiday. Mine was wonderful — filled with contentment, laughter, and relaxing. I got to sleep in this morning, and when it was time for me to get up and get ready for church, Richard sent Lizzy barreling over to my bedside, brandishing a gift (dark chocolate and a Target gift card, woot) and hollering, “HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!!!” I’ve never had a more wonderful wake-up call than that; I thought my heart would burst when I heard that coming from my sweet little girl.

As for the previous post — you guys are so right. It does happen to everyone. And the next day is always better! My children are so very precious to me, and while we get sick of each other every so often, it’s all worth it — because this sweet, fleeting time we have together while they are young is so invaluable, so beautiful, so worth it. Nothing makes me happier than spending time with my family, and oh, how I love them.

A year ago today, we were in Logan. I was hugely pregnant (have we reached a point in our relationship where I can post a picture of my giant baby belly? hope so). Richard had just completed his Masters. Lizzy wasn’t yet two years old. We were standing on the edge of a new career, of a new baby, of a new home, of a whole new can of experiences, and we were so unsure of so much — but one thing we did know, and that was that we loved God, we loved each other, and that was enough.

It still is.