Jacob and Highland Football

Jacob was interviewed by the Yakima Herald for his role in helping bring back football to Highland High School, and frankly, I'm so impressed with his spirit. His seminary teacher said that when she saw this picture of Jacob, she thought, "That is not my Jacob!" But when I saw this picture, I thought with a smile, "There is my Jacob." Klamath Falls peeps will back me up. They knew Jacob from the age of 2-7 years old, what I call the "Destructo-Boy Years." From the time he could scoot across the floor, Jacob has been pushing mightily through life with a determination and passion--and a grin--that made me second guess my parenting skills and had me drawing the conclusion that Jacob's soul must be HUGE and crammed into that tiny little body, so he's just busting to make a place in this world and see what he can do. He's not so tiny anymore and he doesn't break all my stuff anymore, and I don't have to grip his hand so he doesn't run headlong into the heavy traffic of life, but he's still pushing mightily, and his grin is still as big as it was when he was three. I have loved watching this kid tackle what has come at him with grace and ingenuity, determination, humor, and his feet pushing him forward. Often leaving the ground to slam into the ball-carrier.

Read the article here:
http://www.yakimaherald.com/sports/prep_sports/kickoff_2015/the-comeback-trail-highland-scotties/article_107ef654-51bb-11e5-bc1c-cfc5330ca34b.html

The Scotties have a long road ahead of them, and it's still a struggle watching their games. The road blocks? Lack of knowledge and experience, language barrier, and trepidation. How often do you feel a touch of victory when the half-time score is 0-40? And an even greater victory when the final score is 0-47? That was a great second half, by the way. So yeah, it's rough. But man, I get to watch my boy all over that field. "Tackle by Jensen." "Tackle by Jacob Jensen." "Tackle by number 51, Jacob Jensen." "The ball stopped by Jensen." "Number 51 with the tackle." How many ways can they say that? He scrambles over and under and through. He torpedoes from out of nowhere and takes the runner down. He comes from the other side of the field and stops forward motion. He blocks kicks with his chest. He. Never. Lets. The score. Slow. Him. Down. Seriously. Fun to watch. And you know what? It's contagious. During second half, different numbers, different names with the tackles. You can feel it. The team is watching. The team is getting brave.

When Jacob was in 2nd grade, I got a call from the principal. Jacob had been in a fight. A classmate was being bullied, and Jacob had had enough and launched himself at the bully. I was told it was a full-out rolling on the floor, punching fight. On top of that, I was told that Jacob was lying about his part in the fight. The principal asked me to come in and get my son.
I was full of mixed emotions: proud of Jacob for defending a bullied child, worried about finding him bloodied or bruised, confused about discipline, and embarrassed that he would lie. He was my most honest child.
I arrived to find Jacob with a swollen lip and scratched neck. The principal (who was the most disengaged principal I've ever known at a school) briefed me on what happened, expressed his understanding that Jacob was defending against bullies, but made a very big deal over the lying. "I asked him if he had punched the other boy, and Jacob said no. It was very plain that they were throwing punches. We have witnesses. He's lying, and so he's expelled for the day."
The lying was the thing. I just thanked him and we left.
On the way home (we were walking), I gave Jacob a hug for defending  someone who was being bullied, and asked him what happened. He got to the fight part and said, "So we started hitting."
I stopped. I asked, "So, you were punching?"
"No," he said. "Hitting. But he hit me first. I just tackled him away from (the smaller kid)."
I said, "Show me what punching is."
He closed his fist, and acted out hitting himself in the face and head.
I said, "Show me hitting."
He closed his fist and acted out hitting his body all over. Just his body.
I said, "So you were hitting."
He nodded.
"But not punching?"
He shook his head no. "I wasn't punching."
He wasn't lying. His definitions were just different than ours. And he stood by them. And I gave him a big hug. I taught him about the words. We talked about what to do about bullies and friends, and frustration and anger. I wanted to go back into that office and tell the principal my son wasn't a liar. I wanted to tell that principal that I wish somebody would have done for his brother Braeden what Jacob did for that little boy, when Braeden was being bullied. In HIS school, on HIS watch.

But from that point on, I knew I didn't have to worry about Jacob getting picked on, or Jacob worrying about what other people think, or Jacob fearing much of anything. He'll have trials, he'll have obstacles, he'll make mistakes and have heartache like the rest of us. But he's one of my heroes.

He won't sit back and let things fall apart. I can just picture his response to that suggestion.

"Why would I do that?" And then he'd grin.

2000

Two-Month Anniversary: Gotcha Day

I finally uploaded this video and I'm amazed at the changes in Will since we first met him on July 20. In a lot of ways he was more like a 9-month old baby on that day and even that first week, instead of a 25-month old little boy. I can see his detachment and discomfort (not surprising considering he was just passed off to strangers), the way he's leaning away and even his legs are not engaged in being held. Now when we hold him we note his "tree frog" grip. Even his toes grip us tight, and his arms rest on our necks as he is happily packed here and there, asking us what everything is called. In the video he only makes eye-contact a few times. But I also see glimpses of the toddler just waiting for a chance to be heard, listened to, taught. I see a brave little boy who is choosing to observe and wait and see what exactly is happening before he allows fear to take over his emotions. It did, eventually, and what a road we've had facing those fears. But he didn't let it keep him from coming to us, and that was brave.



I simply handed him a toy car, and he was willing to come right to me. And when it was time to leave that chaotic room and see what was outside, he was willing to come with us again. He's an explorer. An observer. A question-asker. A risk-taker. Thank goodness.

I prefer watching this video without the sound. The sounds of that room and China still make me a little nuts. But I'm in total caregiver mode asking those questions. That's pretty much all the info we got. But Brandon, Will, and I had each other and we did what we could with experience and what we'd studied, and focused on what worked and what didn't. He's a different little boy now. Not totally, but it's like he'd been bucked off-track the first two years and now he's returned to becoming himself. He's finally turning over his "inner parent" to us, and trusting us to do that job for him, and to do it better. That alone has eliminated half the battles, and he's having a childhood. He plays, he laughs, he pushes boundaries and his body, and if he gets frustrated or hurt, he turns it over to us. Mama will help. Dada will make it better. Will will be okay. Will isn't alone anymore. Will has Mama, Dada, Meh-en, Eckob, Dog, and Beh. He looks at family pictures and knows Chessa, M't, A-Car, Bampa, Bamba, and Sheh. He hears Brodie barking at the front door and goes running to see who's there, and squeals in utter, really LOUD delight when it's Dada or Eckob or anyone from his little tribe. That's right, now we have the dog barking AND the baby screaming at the front door when somebody comes. WELCOME. We are so excited to have you WAIT WHERE ARE YOU GOING? WE'RE CUUUUUTE.

 He is a sweet little man. I recently read on an adoption blog, addressing the traumatic state of your adoption those first days, that "the child you get in China is not your child." It's true. They find themselves later. They just need to be given that chance.

I wanted to take some new video to post with the Gotcha Day video, so yesterday I took the camera outside. He got pretty quiet for the camera, but we had fun exploring, This is a pretty typical day out back with Willster. (Please ignore the space of dirt where the pool used to be. We're getting sod put down soon! I hope...)







What we're seeing:

GROWTH: Will has grown from being in the less-than-3% in weight and height, to 6% in weight and 12% in height. Everything is looking good in his development. We are humbled and grateful. He loves to move that little body. If his bathtime play is any indication, he should be a little swimmer next summer.

SLEEP: He's taking his bottle again. 6oz of warm whole milk (with a scoop of formula added until the container is empty) for nap and bedtime. He's doing great with sleep. He rarely wakes up at night, now. HOORAY.

REGULATION: Today was Will's first full day of church. All three hours. His behavior is very typically toddler, and that's great. He likes nursery and interacts pretty nicely with the kids. He offers them cars and gives them back things they've dropped. Today he pushed a wooden ring back and forth across the table with a little girl. I'm happy to see he gets along well with others his age. He had moments of potential meltdown, but there was always some distraction and he pushed through it okay. We kept bear handy just in case, and used it a few times, but overall, he seems to really like it in there. HOORAY. It definitely helps that my new church job is nursery assistant. Perfect!

Last week we took Will to Sacrament meeting and then a little preview of nursery.
He seemed to accept it as just part of what we do. Because we're a family.
Also, couldn't you just squish him?

COMMUNICATION: Will is pretending to talk on his toy phone. He says, "Haloo." Then nods his head like he's listening. Then he says some gibberish, then hands the phone off to someone else to say "Haloo." He started this after talking to my mom and then Chelsea on the phone. It's adorable. New words: tah...tah...tah (hot; this is whispered), tee (eat), Bampa/Bamba (Grampa and Gramma), Sheh (Shelli), gwink-oo (thank you), quock (clock), sit (kiss), nigh (good night), lebelblelblelbel (Llama Llama), MEEEEEYA...MEEEEEEYA (Come here! It's usually yelled from somewhere I am not. I noticed I say it a lot in the videos, ha).

Happy Anniversary, Will. It has all been totally worth it.

Sara Liu

I'm sick with some sort of scratchy throat, head full of cement, burning eyes, exhaustion thing. I'm swinging between getting all of the "stuff" done and sleeping hard. Makes for a disorienting day. But some things just can't wait for me to be healthy again.

We've been working on the very last gatherings of what remains to make our adoption happen. We had a glitch with getting our police letters (record clearance). In Wyoming we just went to City Hall and they checked our records, printed out the clearance, signed and notarized them, and we went on our way. Here in Washington we couldn't get anybody at City Hall, the police station, or State Patrol to consider doing anything like this, or to believe that this was a real thing. Frustrating. But our home study agency (Agape) came to the rescue with an online resource and that is now underway, though it will take some time and more cost. But, the clearance will happen and that's the important part. I can whole-heartedly recommend that you don't move to another state during the course of an adoption. But we've done it and that's that!

Disappointing news: There was a delay (our case-worker was ill and then his family) with our home study (Agape). We just found out. I thought it had been submitted weeks ago. With the time it takes for USCIS approval, we won't make the April 5 filing date. Our adoption agency (GWCA) has assured us they will keep China updated that things are progressing. We are so close. Part of me wants to yell. But I know hiccups happen. I hope it just keeps pushing forward. We're this close.

We got the last of our passport photos taken and printed (I think we've had to do 8 of these, each, for various purposes since we began) yesterday. Yes, I'm sick, so I look tired. But I am tired, so hey, honest photos! :P I also had the last of our lifestyle photos printed up for our Dossier. We can send 6-10 photos of our family, our home, etc. to represent us to Sara before she meets us. I had the photos spread out next to the small group of photos we have of Sara. I kept putting her picture next to ours, to see the fit, and it made me smile. I'm so full of hope. Here are our lifestyle pics:

The most frequent question I'm asked is "When?" Well, I'm not sure. Maybe May. Maybe June? I promise we'll shout it from the rooftops when we know.

Speaking of shouting from the rooftops . . . Because it's been such a long journey, and because of the delay, and because I'm sick and need a pick-me-up, I've decided to share Sara's pictures with all of you. I look at these and wonder. I wonder everything. I wonder about her voice, her use of hands when she talks. I wonder how tall she is and if she smiles as easily for strangers. I wonder how long her hair is and if she'll let me do it. I wonder if she's stubborn and sassy or quiet and bashful. Or maybe all. I wonder if she'll like our food or insist on congee. I wonder what she'll think of Brandon being 6'4". I wonder if she'll like our dog or school or if I'll be enough to make her feel safe. Will she smile like this with us? Eventually? I hope so. I'm full of hope.

Sara Liu Xinqin Jensen. 

We're giving her Sara Liu. 

All the girls in our family have L middle names. We hope she likes it.

This was our first image of Sara. It's the one that made Brandon grin, and I knew we'd found our girl.

So you can see why I'm eager. 

Adoption Update: Home Study

As I mentioned in my last post, after Braeden left to begin his LDS mission at the Provo MTC, we turned our efforts toward our home study for the adoption. This felt like a huge event, and in adoption it is very big. But because we'd had to put off our home study until after the move (it's usually one of the first things you get going on in the adoption process, but it must be done in the place you will be residing when you bring the child home) and then there is a "second gathering" of all the things we were already gathering for our adoption agency, GWCA (out of Texas), but now it was for the home study agency (here in Sumner, Washington), and a lot in the "gathering" requirements were different and added upon, it seemed huge-er. That was a long sentence. Throw in the grandbaby, the holidays, and the mission, not to mention I have two (somewhat) adjusted children with lives and a husband and "regular" things, and we could finally schedule the actual home study visit. And it was scheduled the weekend after getting Braeden off.

So, we attacked most of the remaining boxes still waiting for attention from the move. We cleaned and organized and made Goodwill piles and I did the one decorating thing I was determined to do before the visit.

I put our family pictures up on the stairway wall.

I've never had a stairway wall, or really a hallway, to put pictures up. They were up in different rooms in the house, but not like this. I love it. I left spaces for pictures of Sara and Carly, and a couple more collage frames. Everyone said it made the house feel like it belonged to us. Yay!

Bill, our social worker, came over Saturday afternoon. He asked questions and counseled us. We discussed behaviors, expectations, family and parenting strategies, finances, safety and transition. Brandon and I had each already filled out and submitted a 22 page autobiography form, so he had studied that before he came. He was really great. Down to earth and easy to talk to. He interviewed us as a couple and then the whole family, and then just the kids. Then us again. Then we took him on a tour of the whole house. We had worked right through dinner time until 8:30, so by the time he left we were all starving. I don't even remember what I threw together. Sandwiches? Anyway, the first part of the visit was done and the discussion had brought it home to all of us that this was real and it was happening. I was excited and anxious, but also felt like our little family was pretty great. Not perfect, not unblemished, but pretty great. We were all wiped out.
The next morning he arrived at 8:00 am for the rest of the visit. We'd let him know we had church at 11:30 so an early morning was necessary, so he could drive back to Sumner and be home before the Seahawks/49ers game. We live in Seahawks land now. So Brandon and I divided up and had our individual interviews with Bill. That was about an hour each.
His last question to me was, "What are you looking forward to most in this adoption?"
As I thought about it, I got emotional for the first time during the whole visit. "I think getting to know her, watching her experience new things, and my hope is that we can help her feel that she's a member of a family. That she wasn't just . . . left." I guess I meant that I hope we can teach her what her true value is.

I think if we all realized what our true value is in this life and beyond, there would be a lot less pain and sadness in this world. Some of us are born into families who give us that. Some of us aren't. The happy thing is, it can be shared. And received. Sometimes that takes a lot of work and sacrifice and love.

I have another big stack of documents and forms waiting to go out today. With the home study nearly complete (they are still waiting on some criminal clearances and this stack of papers) they can submit the I-800A Form, the Application for Determination of Suitability to Adopt a Child from a Convention Country. That's another big one. Then we gather up the remaining items for our Dossier (Home Study report, family pictures, more passport photos, our medical reports, another chunk of the contract fee, a couple Chuck E. Cheese tokens and a fistful of confetti).

(Not really those last two.)

I've filled out more forms in the last year than in all of my life combined.

I almost forgot to add that my sister directed me to a friend of hers who just adopted a 13 year old boy from China, and her blog has been a tremendous help in answering questions I didn't know I had, and she does a great job of sharing a real experience in adopting an older child. I loved the detail of their trip to China, I love that she shares the ups AND downs. I read her entire blog up-to-date in two days. I'm thankful for her accounts. Find her family's story here.

Wo men kuai dao la. 
We'll be there soon.

The Lake

I finished the third novel in the Finding Home Trilogy.  At least I think that is what I'm calling it.  The third book is called The Lake.  It's quite a bit longer than the first two, but I love it.  I've never really blogged about what the stories are, so let me tell you a little bit.

They center around three different women in different stages of life, and the impact their choices and influences make on those around them.  The first one is based on Jane Austen's novel, Persuasion.  The second tackles questions I have about myself... what if...?, and a character from the first book I just couldn't leave alone.  The ideas for the third book began coming to me about 2/3'ds of the way into the second book, and I had Sleeping Beauty, and my oldest daughter, in mind when I wrote it.  I know, wierd, huh?  But, there it is.  All three novels are inspired by the beauty of the area we live in... the Northern Rockies.

Here is some music for you.  I listened to a lot of this as I was finishing up, and then found the songs for the player when I was done a few days ago.  Just press pause on the player on the right if you want to listen to this one.

And to my family... you can all rest easy.  The laundry is folded, and dinner is in the oven.  And I'm so happy inside knowing I can feel a little bit more like who I really am, so I can teach you to find out who you really are.

P.S.  Still waiting to hear from publishers on The Orchard.  Carla says she thinks its a good sign and that they are at least looking at it maybe a little more closely.  I feel the need to knock on wood.  Done.

Plain Jane

I lost my blog background and I fear there is no hope. Until I get it figured out, I will be plain-Jane. Ah well. Hopefully, I will find something I like even more.
I have been reading. My friends finally talked me into jumping on the Twilight bandwagon. I wasn't really interested... c'mon, vampire stories written by a Mormon author? But they kept at me. So, I got the first one from Jamie, the next 2 from Shannon, and the last one from Jamie. Read those, then re-read the first one, now reading the last one again. I read them so fast, I wanted to see what I missed the first time around. Here is what I got out of these best-selling books...
1. The description of the Olympic Peninsula took me right back to growing up in that area. You really were shocked to wake up to light coming in through the windows. I could feel the drizzle, hear it, feel the moss on the trees, smell the perpetually wet litter of the forest floor, feel the cold wind at the water's edge and hear the crunch of the rocks on the beach. Gray mist.
2. I have heard people say it is a story of choices. I would say a bit more. It is about taking what we are handed in life, no matter how dire, how hopeless, and still trying to rise above it, still trying to find a way to be human, in the very best definition of the word.
3. Potential is a very near-sighted vision for most of us. We are all given gifts, talents, some hidden, some clear, and how many of us think we don't have any? That we are insignificant? Are we taking, seeking opportunities to unlock those talents, those spiritual gifts? Will we stumble upon them? Who are we, really? Better than we think.
4. Finally, I have to say, the romantic relationship between the hero and heroine is chemistry-filled. I love that it is based on his 1900's upbringing and still burns... a soulmate is a soulmate. And so, he is patient and resists. What is the reward for denying baser urges and allowing a higher ideal to rule? Balance? A greater love beyond our understanding? Often, in life, when we have struggled, but not given in to hate, immorality, or loss of faith, but have endured with patient hope, the outcome has been so much better then what we would have even imagined for ourselves. Even when we feel ourselves unworthy.
It actually reminds me of Jane Eyre, one of my favorites.

Okay, so that was a little deeper than I wanted to go, but there you have it. I have to admit it... I liked these books. I am not, however, going to get a bumper sticker that reads "My heart belongs to my husband, but my neck belongs to Edward". Tacky tacky tacky. Brandon has all of me.

"Do. There is no try." -Yoda

On Friday I received my first rejection letter for my first book I have ever written, or submitted for publishing. I wasn't going to mention it on my blog, but I thought, why not? This is sort of a crowning achievement. Did you know that about 95% of us think about writing a book, but only 2% ever do? And out of those who submit their work, only 2% get published? Not great odds, yet today, they make me feel better.
So, I was surprisingly calm when Brandon handed me the big white mailer I knew contained my manuscript and I read the form letter telling me they were "forced to be extremely selective" and that they were, "not in a position to pursue this project at this time", or even able to "send detailed comments" about my work. Not very helpful, but a badge of courage nonetheless.
It was later that night that I cried.
Then, I woke up early, came down to the office, got online, and found a few more publishers that I will try. I know it's a long shot, but am compelled to try. It has always been my observation and belief that a good, solid try counts.
Sorry, Yoda.

Back To School?

"What is it for? The improvement of the mind; to instruct us in all arts and sciences, in the history of the world, in the laws of nations; to enable us to understand the principles of life, and how to be useful while we live." ~Brigham Young

I have been thinking... again. I was walking through the family room after General Conference was over, and the family was still watching the ads and things they show between sessions, when an announcer's words caught my attention. "...if you were once a full-time student at BYU and unable to finish your degree..." and "...qualify for the Bachelor of General Studies Program". I paused, and at the same time, both Brandon and Chelsea spun their heads toward me with a look that said, "Hey! That is you!" I looked further at Brandon, who's nod said, "You should look into this." I had actually seen the ads before, but it was their reaction that made me think, "Hey, maybe that is me."
Since then, I have had it at the back of my mind to research it further online. Yesterday, I did. This morning, I called about how many credits I already have. You know, this may be something I can do. I actually am excited to talk to Brandon about it. He is going to call me from work when he gets a minute.
I have, for so long, thought how it would have been so much better (for me, anyway) to have known who I was going to be later (or , now) before I started college. I would have done it so differently.
Maybe this is my chance.

3 Things In A Bag

We had a fun activity at church a couple of weeks ago, the Relief Society Birthday Dinner, and we got to know each other through this funny game. We were asked to bring in a brown grocery bag with 3 items inside that told something about ourselves that nobody knew. We each took a turn choosing a random bag, holding up the items and everyone guessed who the bag belonged to. There were items like a guitar songbook, an opera playbill, a piece of Fiestaware, a German beer stein, a Harry Potter book, a rafting helmet, a Portuguese to English book, a quilt, a statue of an angel, a Snoopy doll, a golf ball, a tennis ball, the most unusual item: a tool for sheep castration!... I could go on. My eyes were opened to these women of all ages and their talents, hobbies, and work. When the person was guessed, they would come up and briefly explain why they had chosen those items, and then pick the next bag. It was so great! It took them awhile to guess mine, but Julie called out, "Krista!" and the jig was up.

~I loved my Latin Ballroom class at BYU and this is how I get my fix (and my fit) 2-3 times a week.
~This portrait was my final project for a college watercolor class. It's Harry Connick Jr.
~I am a Lord of the Rings geek. Love the books, love the movies (ext. ed.), love the backstory, love it. Thanks, Dad.

What would go in your bag?

My Hard-Working Man

listen to: Your Song

I married a man who works very hard. He always has. From the beginning I was impressed with his work ethic. I believe his motto would be something like, "Work hard, provide for your family, keep them safe, acknowledge the hand of God, and find time to laugh." Often I wish he could be more easy-going and less concerned, but he is who he is, and certainly, there are worse things. And we do laugh. I believe my sense of humor didn't develop until I was with him.
With his career choices, it has become a way of life for us, that he is often away. He was a teacher for 11 years, and some people assume that is a cozy job, summers off, short work day, babysitting. But that isn't teaching. Teaching is planning daily what you will be doing every hour of that day to fill a young person's mind with knowledge that will get them to pass a levels test required by the state, as well as enjoying what it is they are learning. Teaching is staying after and addressing students' concerns, talking with parents, meeting with staff to discuss improvements. Teaching is continuing your education on weekends and summers to keep you updated and certified. Teaching is joining Site Team and Link Crew, heading up the clubs and chaperoning the dances, helping crowd control at sporting events, running the clocks or announcing, writing letters of recommendation, heading up the department and integrating entirely new ways of doing things, earning support or ruffling feathers with fellow staff. I would dare say it is the job with the most over-time, without over-time pay. Teaching is working another job in the summer. And that is just teaching. My husband also coached. Through the years he has coached high school football, high school boys and girls basketball, and middle school and college level track, and except for a couple of years, all three sports every year. He was gone from 7 a.m. until 7 p.m., sometimes 5:30 during track season, sometimes 9:00 during football, Friday nights and sometimes Saturdays, staying over for away games too far away. Sports camps filled the summer weeks, and local, regional, and national championships always seemed to be over Halloween, and his and Jacob's birthday. During all this, he not only pursued his Masters degree, but also earned administrative credentials, so he could be a principal, and really have something to do. Now that he is an assistant principal, and no longer coaches, we do see more of him, and he has, almost in its entirety, loved his career. His daily hours are more regular, and although he is required to be at most school functions, we go with him. He has meetings and still travels away on trainings, but has more free time during the summer. It has been difficult, yes, and he doesn't balk when I take credit for raising his kids, and loves any credit he is given. He has been a good father, and the kids love to spend time with him, and hang on his every word. (I wish I could say the same about how they listen to me, ha.) And now, since September, he has been serving as Bishop of our ward, on top of his career, leading, directing, and praying for a congregation of about 400 people in our community. He is performing a wedding on Saturday for the first time, and emailed me his speech this morning to go through and okay. You see, he is in Colorado this week for work. I have married a man who is gone a lot, who works to extract meaning from life, and when I hear his truck pull in the drive, my heart beats faster, I check the mirror, though sometimes that is futile, and throw myself into his arms when he comes through the door. Sometimes, I even jump. And he laughs as he kisses me.

A NEW PHASE

Ah, the first day of school. I was pretty excited. I had made the kids' lunches last night so the morning would go a bit more smoothly. As I put out 2 more pieces of bread for Maren's sandwich, 2 more pieces than I have for the last 3 years, I got a lump in my throat. It had suddenly occurred to me that nobody would be eating lunch with me anymore. That's all. I got teary, and Brandon chuckled sympathetically and invited me to eat with him at the high school anytime I wanted. But the lunches were made. I drew a heart on Maren's napkin, and a happy face on Chelsea's. I think the boys are done with that kind of thing, but I should ask. I took the younger kids to school and of course walked Maren to her first day of all-day kindergarten. It was a little rough, but we called Daddy and he came over and she got brave. Yea, Dad! She will be fine. So will I. It is very quiet. Well, except for the dishwasher. And the washing machine. And the dryer. I have cleaned the kitchen from the morning chaos, picked up the clutter, and switched over the contents of my old purse into a newer one. I have signed up to help in Maren's class on Thursdays, and at the Middle School in the library a couple of other days a week, something I have never been able to do. A thoughtful friend called to see how I was faring. I am going to be painting some furniture and getting the basement ready for the construction crew coming to finish it late Fall, and organizing the garage as the weather cools. There is plenty to do, and I do have some girlfriends to eat lunch with occasionally. I will probably call my Mom more often than I have been calling her, and of course, at 3:30 I will be running around to piano, dance, choir, scouts, tennis, football, and whatever else comes our way. I may even pick up a brush and start watercolors again. Do I dare try oils...?

My, You're Practically A Lady

For months and months I have repeatedly answered the question, "How long 'til I'm five years old?" This year, Easter marked Maren's birthday, and as the decorations were set out and the Easter eggs dyed, Maren's anticipation grew. So, when she woke up Sunday morning, her excitement that Easter had come was quelled by the discovery that she was 5, but not any bigger than she had been the day before! I reminded her little pout that she had grown 2-3" since she had her 4th birthday, and that we had to buy her all new pants because her legs had gotten so long, and that we had just replaced her size 9 1/2 tap shoes with size 11's! She immediately cheered up with her hearty giggle so much like mine. And so the day was sunny and bright for our youngest child, who will leave me in the Fall to start all-day, every-day kindergarten. But we won't think about that, yet. What is it about turning 5? I remember the introduction scene in the Sound of Music. "Yes, you're Gretel. And you're 5 years old? My, you're practically a lady." That was so endearing, you just had to smile at the thought of this little dumpling of a girl being referred to as a lady, but you felt it was somehow true. Turning 5 means you are no longer a toddler or a pre-schooler. You are old enough to leave the house on a bus without your parents and go to school. You are old enough to get yourself dressed, tie your shoes, write your name and a few other things if you wish to. And you wish to! It means you can ride a bike, or walk to the triplet's house to visit, with Mommy only watching from the front porch. It is a beginning of an independence. So, my sweet, funny, bossy, caring, tough Maren Lily, with the pixie voice and deep laugh, Happy 5th Birthday, and welcome to the beginning of a new part of life! May it be joyful, adventurous, and worthy of everything your Father in Heaven knows you are.

WHEN I GROW UP...

I have chosen a "profession" for which I have received some scrutiny, some praise, and some flabbergastment. When I was small, my Mom would tell me, "Honey, you can be anything you want. You could be a nurse, or even a doctor. You could go to dental school." I would listen as I sat on the counter, and watch her stir the sweet, thickening jam made from our trip to the U-Pick strawberry patch the previous day. I would think about that as I watched her rinse the fresh, still-warm-from-the-sun tomatoes, squash, and peppers from our garden, and throw together a delicious dinner without a cookbook. She would encourage me to get as much education as possible, to find a career. She would then load us all up in the VW camper bus and take us to the lake for the day, picnic and floaties in tow, or a neighborhood fair, or Pike's Place market. She taught me how to scrub a bathroom and dust the house before I could jump rope, and she organized chore charts to keep the house, and us, running smoothly. She took care of us when we were sick and always seemed to know the remedy, and when to take us to the Dr.'s office. "You could do so much. You are so smart!", she would declare, as she and I made visits to women in our church, sharing uplifting messages and plates of cookies. I watched her mow the lawn with a determined look on her face, heard the clinking of dishes being washed and put away as I fell asleep at night, helped her make beds in the morning. "You can be anything you want to be...don't settle for less." Sometimes there would be a longing in her voice, on a particularly hectic day; those days when things do not go so well, and we doubt ourselves. But I remember the serenity on her face as she watched us baboons run about, just watching in amazement and gratification. Or, her satisfaction of a clean house as she plopped down to read a magazine, or write a letter. Her independence in exploring her corner of the world and opening our eyes to it. Her pride in our accomplishments. Teaching, always teaching. I knew what I wanted to be. How thankful I am to be a house-wife, a stay-at-home-Mom, a handy-woman, a comforter, a coach, an explorer, a gardener, a chef, a nurturer, an organizer, a dancer, a singer, a disciplinarian, a scriptorian, a teacher... a student of life. I have a college education, and when the kids are gone, I will probably go back to school, see what else I can do. I have travelled. I have had a business. I have worked HARD and have met with discouragement, even despair. But nothing, NO OTHER EXPERIENCE, could make me feel more accomplished, more well-rounded, more needed, more in-tune with life and its meanings, more loved, than running my home, raising my kids, making my spot of Earth find its potential. What a challenge... and I love a challenge! Thanks, Mom, for teaching me to be anything I want. Thanks, Brandon, my love, for helping me to be.

Beautiful Things

"It is amazing that such a beautiful thing starts with just a seed." ~anonymous

When did my daughter get so tall? We were looking in the full length mirror together and she said, "Uh, Mom... where do I come up to you?", indicating with her hand on her head. I looked, and almost didn't want to pull her over so our hips were side by side. OH MY GOSH. Both our eyes were as big as pies as we watched my level hand go from the top of her head to my BROWLINE. She grinned so wide and I felt like smashing her down a bit with my hand on top of her head. She giggled as I tried it. She had been gone for a few days at camp. Is that when it happened? From what I can gather, they fed her hotdogs, wrapped in pop-n-fresh dough, smoked over a tiny fire. If anything, she should have shrunk. Maybe it was fresh air and summer breezes, but whenever it happened, it did, and it isn't stopping yet, I am sure. I always knew there was a chance she would be taller than me when all was said and done. Her Dad is nearly 6'4", and her build carries that very motivated gene structure. Her nicknames have included 'Legs", 'Tall One', 'Colt'. As we looked at each other in the mirror, wondering, I sighed, "I am going to have a daughter taller than I am!" Her thoughtful reply was, "That's alright, Mom, I probably won't grow much more.", and we put our arms on one another's shoulders and smiled. The truth is, I don't mind at all that she will soon join my husband in calling me 'Shorty' (which I have always thought unfounded, being 5'7", and tall by my family's standards), but I do mind that the time is already upon us. I wish I had a dime for every time an older someone, watching me with my little babies and toddlers, said, "Cherish this time...it goes by so fast." I would take all those dimes and buy some of that cherished time, more chubby arms around my legs, more hands reaching up to hold mine, more piggy-back rides, and snuggling into my lap, and bed time songs, and soft, warm cheeks to kiss just after a nap. Chelsea's arms and hands and snuggles and cheeks. It does go by in a blink, like a visit from a butterfly. I need to go find my chubby cheeked 4 year old, no mirrors allowed.

My Heart Beats to Bach

Braeden, my 10 year old, had his last piano recital of the season last Sunday. It was at the Christ Lutheran Church, which is a little more intimidating to perform in than his teacher's living room. But, she is in the middle of moving, so there we were. Braeden watched for his turn on the program, took a deep breath and walked the mile up to the piano with all eyes on him. He was playing "Bouree" by Johann Sebastian Bach and all of us sitting in our pew knew it by heart...had listened to it humming in our heads throughout the weeks, had dahdahdeedah-ed it as we washed dishes, mowed the lawn, brushed our teeth. Braeden loves this song, and loves his teacher. I saw his shoulders raise, lower, another breath. I took a breath, but didn't let it out. Wrists up, then he began. His fingers firmly, lightly bounced on the keys, hitting each note. His song danced through the church and my heart pounded with the rhythm. My smile got bigger with every beat and I knew he would be playing this song for weeks to come without a care, because he had nailed it when it was time to nail it. I glanced at my husband, Brandon, and I knew he was thinking the same thing, feeling it. Then, the song ended, and there was a pause. In that split second, Braeden turned to the congregation and flashed a big-eyed, coy grin, and applause and laughter broke. It was a quicker trip back to our pew, but all eyes smiled at him and I couldn't help but feel the few that met mine were saying, "That was something... that was potential being sought after."