Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Sunday, September 11, 2011

A decade ago...


Ten years ago my little family was living on Luke Air Force Base on the west side of Phoenix where my husband, an Air Force mechanic at the time, was stationed. Luke was a relatively quiet base, at least from my point of view. I drove in and out of our little base housing neighborhood easily where guards were never posted, gates were always open, and anyone came and went with ease.

I was the mother of one 2 year old daughter then, and on September 10 had attended a doctor's visit where I heard, for the first time, the sweet sound of my newest baby's heartbeat. This was a much anticipated pregnancy that came on the heals of several heartbreaks. I went to bed that night with soaring hopes and peace in my heart.

The next morning my alarm came in the form of a very early morning phone call from my mother, living on the east coast. "Turn on the TV. A plane has just crashed into the World Trade Center." A picture lazily played through my mind of a confused pilot in a small private plane who must have lost control, and in my grogginess didn't understand the panic and what warranted such an early call. I did, however, stumble from bed and into the living room to turn the news on. As I stood in front of the television, phone to ear, mouth gaping and heart pounding, I witnessed a second plane fly into the other tower. It didn't register at first. How could this be happening? Not here. Not the U.S. I continued to listen as the news poured in. I began to wake up a little from the shock and went to my back door where I had a clear view of the closest housing gate. The gates were closed and a large tractor was placing concrete barricades on our side. That small action triggered something, a realization: our world would never be the same.

In the next few days that passed we remained in a sort of lock down. On September 12, the first presidency of our church broadcast a prayer meeting. Our small Air Force "family," which consisted of our closest friends in the area, gathered at one friend's house to watch it and grasp for some sense of peace. I had walked the one block over, and later as I pushed my daughter home in her stroller, was stopped by Security Police and questioned as to where I had been, where I was going, and then told to get back in my house and stay there. Once again, that former security was chipped away at.

As for most of us, time passed, healing occurred and for the most part life returned to normal but always  a "little something" in the back of my mind refused to let me forget entirely.



Today the girls and I got up and went through our normal Sunday routine of getting ready for church. JT was on call, so we went by ourselves. We were singing as we passed the post office and I noticed the flag at half staff. "Oh girls, it's 9/11. Let's not forget about it," I said non-chalantly. Then a thought occurred. The oldest are 12 and 9. They've lived through plenty of 9/11 anniversaries, even celebrated "Patriot Day" in school, but did they really know?

"Do you guys really know what happened that day?"

"Yes...kinda...not really...no."

For the first time I told the story of that day to ears that hadn't heard it. I spoke of the days that led up to it, my early morning phone call, the closed gate. Then, I began to recite the events. The Pentagon, the towers, their collapse, the firemen and policemen, the field in Pennsylvania. I choked on those words as sobs broke through my story, and I realized I hadn't forgotten the intense feelings of that day. I never want to. Complete silence was all that emanated from my six little girls as they listened to every word.

Ten years later, at 8:46 am eastern time, 10 years to the very minute of the first plane hitting the World Trade Center, I was sharing a testimony with my girls. We can't ever let evil win. Your daddy will deploy, it will be hard, and we won't like it, but it's his duty and he'll do it. He'll do it for us as many others have and will.

 A favorite quote from C.S. Lewis comes to mind. "The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing."

Tonight, as we watched video footage from that day, it still seems surreal. How could that have happened? And yet, it did. We learn from tragedy. I'm thankful for this day to reflect. I'm thankful for the defining moments that force me to stand a little taller, stretch a little further. Most of all, I'm thankful I haven't forgotten.

Friday, August 12, 2011

This Moment

this moment inspired by Soule Mama - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.
Happy Weekend to you!

Friday, August 5, 2011

This Moment

{this moment inspired by Soule Mama} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.
Happy Weekend to you!

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

The Realities of Playing House

  A few days ago Ava, 5 years old, and Aria, 3 years old, were overheard "playing house." The following is an actual conversation that took place between the two with Ava playing the daughter, also known as "the honey" to my girls, and Aria playing the Mama.

 First, a few notes about Aria language. When she speaks her "th" sounds come out as "sss" sounds. She also has a few replacement words and phrases that she regularly uses in place of common ones. The one most pertinent to this story is "booby things," which actually comes out sounding like "booby seengs." (Excited to see where this story's going, huh?) Booby seengs are more commonly known as bras, in case you had a hard time figuring that one out. So, here goes.

Ava: Mommy, why do you wear what you call booby things?

Aria (in a high pitched, 3-year-old version of what a mommy sounds like): Well, honey, mommy's boobies are just a lot bigger than your little girl boobies. So, we have to wear booby seengs or else our boobies will hang down really long and make our shirts look funny.

I feel we've all been enlightened by Aria's explanation of the true mission of the brassiere. Women everywhere are rejoicing daily that they don't have to walk around with funny looking shirts. Yes, I'm aware that make believe tends to imitate reality, and in my defense I have given birth to and nursed six children! With that said, long live Victoria and her secrets!!

Saturday, July 23, 2011

Pioneer Tribute

As members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, we have not one but 2 big holidays in the month of July: the 4th, of course, and the 24th. On July 24th we celebrate the arrival of the Mormon Pioneers in the Salt Lake Valley. This holiday has come to mean more than just commemorating the day an earthly place was settled. It embodies a spirit of reverence for those who literally gave all to follow their hearts and what they knew to be true. With the promise of a peaceful life, free of persecution, the pioneers left homes, lost family, and many lost their own lives. They went with hope in their hearts.

We look to our early progenitors and learn from their perseverance. We find hope in the midst of our own trials by hearing how they handled theirs'. I, personally, did not have any ancestors who crossed the plains, but my husband and children do. I'm thankful for their stories of faith, hope, love, and for the impact their lives have had on each generation leading up to that of my children.


With each Pioneer Day comes a Pioneer Day celebration. This year's celebration began with breakfast on the lawn, followed by pioneer games, and intermingled with lots of children running and laughing everywhere.

Friday, July 22, 2011

This Moment

{this moment inspired by Soule Mama} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.
Happy Weekend to you!

Monday, July 18, 2011

Bedheads, Formals, and Bluegrass



It's 9 am, the wheat is grinding, a bluegrass concert is blasting from the TV and the girls are enthralled. Ava and Aria decide a change is in order, so they get into their finest apparel and the ball begins with their still night-gowned sisters. It's a rag tag, but beautiful combination in my eyes: bedheads, formals, and bluegrass.

The Dough Situation

We have a lot of fun at our house. There's a myriad of projects, toys, crafts, and other things we occupy ourselves with each day. I'm pretty open with what I'll let the kids play with, but there are a few exceptions. Some years ago, we instituted a life long ban on play dough in our house. Somehow it found its way into carpets, hair, and managed to be crumpled into tiny pieces and chunks as far as the eye could see. We tried monitored time, which worked, but little eyes and little hands would find some way to smuggle it out for some illegal playtime right underneath a certain mama's nose. Our solution was "the ban."
I've heard from all the other mamas how much their kids love it and all the ways to control the "play dough habit." Was I depriving my children of a significant childhood experience that would leave them scarred in adulthood? I found a solution that works for us.
Ava's snail
Trista's Snowgirl holding her doll

















                                       
                  
Whenever breads, cookies, or anything else that involves a doughy start is brewing in the kitchen the chicklings come flocking to my side. Cookie cutters are rummaged from drawers, rolling pins grabbed, straws and skewers are gathered for decorating, and each child gets there own pinch of dough. Those little balls of clay-like goodness take so many different forms over the next hour or so, until their sculptors tire, shape them into one final form, and present them for baking. Sometimes the creations are eaten, sometimes they're just admired and then tossed in what is affectionately known as "file 13" in our house. Either way, my girlies have had their fun, there's no contraband to wreak havoc in our happy home, and I feel good as a mama for having let them express their creativity.
                                                   
Ari's folded blanket :)

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Mornings with Maya and George

Morning routines come and go very quickly in the world of motherhood. Just when you settle into one something always seems to come along and upend it. For the moment I am immensely loving the newest morning moment and doing all I can to hold onto it.


My day begins each morning at 7 a.m. sharp with the sweet little squawking of, "Mama," coming from my sitting room (currently Maya's nursery.) I stumble out of bed, go to those little outstretched arms, and scoop up my still groggy babe. We make our way back to my bed for a little snuggle time followed by a reading from a collection Curious George. Maya's fascinated by this little monkey. Even though there's interest, she still has the attention span of a 16-month-old, and distractions occur: time to tickle Mama, requests for "Itsy, Bitsy Spider" (her favorite tune), time to jump on the pillows. I stop for a moment, indulge her, and then go back to the story. She's drawn back in.  When we finish she always takes the book and does a little "studying" of her own as she skims, usually backwards, through the book.

Maya shares her "study" time with big sister, Trista, the first to wake and join us in bed.

So far, she's picked up that ducks say "quack," and she can say yellow, which actually comes out sounding like "wewwow."  Truthfully? I'm busting with pride over those little accomplishments.

So, while, moments come and moments go way too fast in this whirling world of parenthood, I'm doing my best to cling to and savor even the tiniest ones.

Thursday, June 30, 2011

Look at what I got to do...

No, I didn't have another girl. I just got to take pictures of someone else's teeny little one! In May I did maternity pics for Mama and now it was 5 day old Baby Girl's turn.

It's amazing how quickly you forget how small a newborn is. It only took a moment after scooping up this litttle one for it all to come flooding back. I was just there a little over a year ago, watching my own brand new little flower unfolding in those early days.

  Motherhood holds so many wonders. My favorite has to be watching that new personality emerge, and it starts so early. There are traits that seem to be constant, even from the womb, and those that appear so suddenly you sometimes wonder who this new little person is. So precious and amazing. I hope that even long after my child bearing years are behind me I'll always be able find the wonder and the miracle in new life. With new life comes new hope.

This Moment



{this moment inspired by Soule Mama} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

If you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.
Happy Weekend to you!

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Wool: I'm in love!

Today a small pair of longies were rolled up and converted to shorts

 We started cloth diapering on baby #5. Intimidated by just the thought of extra laundry and overwhelmed with all of the cloth diapering options every time I did consider it, I never seriously investigated the option. (Yes, here comes the "until.") Until...chickling #5 had such sensitive skin and we had tried every brand of disposables unsuccessfully and it seemed by the best option. I did hours and hours of research, finally settling on what I thought was the best option for us. The rashes cleared and #5 eventually transitioned nicely from a cloth bum to the potty trained, panty-wearing little girl of today. And me? Turns out I wasn't traumatized by the extra laundry (it really isn't that much) and I found myself a CD addict mourning the lost time I could have spent doing it with girlies # 1-4.
Yes, those are my woolies line drying on our trampoline enclosure. I snapped this pic as I ran out to save them from the sudden rain storm.

  Last fall a friend introduced me to wool covers, pre-folds, and flats, the simplest and cheapest of all diapering options, and I'm in love! In fact I became so enamored that i told my husband I wanted a sheep. Being the loving, supportive guy he is, he actually went on Craigs List and looked for sheep! They didn't have any listed, but as a side note you can find virtually any other farm animal for sale there.

Why wool? It's naturally water repellant, slightly absorbant, naturally anti-bacterial, and is breathable. Not to mention adorable. I bought one cover and have made, and continue to make, the rest. In November I cleaned both of our area Goodwills out of 100% wool sweaters. Two were converted to pants, or "longies," one into a "skirty", and one into a simple soaker. I've recently been trying my hand at knitting and am almost done with my first soaker from scratch. We're finding ways to meet all fashion possibilities and having so much fun doing it.  
A little note about night time: I was worried about leaving little Maya in a pre-fold over night. Wouldn't the constant contact with moisture wreak havoc on an already sensitive bum? With a regular cover, yes it did, but my wool is another story. Thanks to the breathability, moisture can more easily evaporate. In fact, the other day I changed what at first sight seemed like a dry over night diaper. Upon closer inspection I realized it had pee in it, but it had actually dried over night, leaving my little one's bum nice and dry.

I'll say it one more time. I'm in love.

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

What's on Your Plate?

 After a morning of chores and bread-making, the girls and I settled down, with our various knitting and crocheting projects in hand, to watch a movie from our new favorite genre: food documentaries. The flick of the day was "What's on Your Plate?" I can't describe it any better Netflix's description, so here goes:

  "Aimed at children and adults, this entertaining documentary from activist Catherine Gund follows her daughter, Sadie, and her best friend, Safiyah, as the two 11-year-olds spend a year investigating the politics of food in America. The intrepid tweens interview farmers, school officials, chefs and ordinary folks to find out how food is grown and how agriculture can be transformed in order to improve both nutrition and profit."

 So what did we learn? Simply put:
  • To eat more locally grown foods. Why? Because we're not only cutting down on how far our food has to be transported but we're also supporting our local farmers.
  • To eat more whole, natural foods. 
  • Children's health in our country is seriously declining thanks to our eating habits.
  • And finally... deep down inside I really feel a need to grow things! One step at a time, though. We're dealing with our first year of gardening one day at a time in this drought stricken region.
Photo courtesy of Bella and her camera

 So, the home school mom came out of summer hibernation for a little while. Inspired by Sadie and Safiyah's actions, one chickling pulled out the world map, one gathered the produce in the kitchen, and 2 others had paper and art supplies on hand to draw small "portraits" of the produce. We read the little stickers on our fruit and found out that our bananas came from Costa Rica, our grapes from Mexico, our apples from Washington, peaches from South Carolina, and the blueberries simply were labeled "U.S." We used the little ones' pictures of the fruit and placed them on the countries of origin respectively. Most of these places are quite a long way from Alabama, we discovered, and yet all of these things are grown right here within a few hours of us. Hmmm....

 So, in the end, why did I love this movie? It spoke to me and the girls and made us more aware. We pinpointed things we can change and now have a goal.

Want to learn more? http://www.whatsonyourplateproject.org/

Saturday, June 18, 2011

A Retreat to the Shore

A few weeks ago we spent the weekend at the beach on a "family retreat" with our fellow family practice residents and their families. I grew up just minutes from a beautiful beach but have never had the opportunity to actually stay on site. I tried it, and I like it!

  There's something mesmerizing about the whole atmosphere. I'd go to take a peak out the window of our condo and then find myself still standing there 5 minutes later just taking it all in: the pattern of the waves breaking, the sea gulls who seemed to be floating on a blanket of unseen wind, the endless horizon. The more time I take to notice the vast intricacies of nature the more amazed I become at this world. I find it intriguing  that I can still discover new things that captivate me and awaken a childlike interest that seems to have been asleep. This is when I excitedly call my girls over to share my findings and am usually tickled to see them light up with amazement too.

  We arrived on a Friday evening in time for dinner and to settle in and prepare for the full day ahead of us. Saturday morning I was up with the sun and found ways to busy myself until the family awoke. I think poor J.T. was looking forward to a restful morning, but those hopes were dashed by a busy mama and six little chattering girls rushing about and excitedly getting ready to start our day.

  We were at breakfast by 7:30 and on the beach by 8:15 ready to start our morning of sea shell collecting, wave jumping, and sand castle building. We spent the day in the sun and then enjoyed dinner on the beach.


I do have to say that the highlight of the trip came Sunday morning. We were heading out early, but I had promised the girls one last walk out onto the beach before leaving. As we gazed out over the water I saw it. First one, then another and so on. A pod of dolphins were crossing the horizon not far from shore. Once again the giddiness surfaced, and we stared in amazement as they leaped from the water, occasionally stopping and playing with each other. As I stood there with my girls, I took note that this was one of "those" moments. The ones you'll never forget and the ones you'll pull back to mind as you look back over the ups and downs of parenting. For that moment we were sharing a feeling, a love, an excitement. Their faces were glowing and so was mine. That familiar moment of parenting re-surfaced. The one where you know, not just feel or believe,  how blessed you are to know and love these little ones. You take a mental picture, hoping never to forget any detail, because you also know how fleeting these moments are.