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!

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!

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!!

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.

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!

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 :)