Treasures

I love summer.  I think I must have been on the flower planning committee in my previous life.  There is nothing that soothes my soul like the beautiful world we live in.  Especially in summer.

Last weekend we went to Franklin and it was exactly the spirit renewing experience that I have been needing.

One night we went up to Willow Flat for tinfoil dinners and a hike up to the spring.  The path follows next to the spring creek as it tumbles over beaver dams and winds through the beautiful green trees, bushes and flowers.

I soon found myself behind because I kept stopping to look at the way the flowers grew around each other  and in natural flowing clumps.  Perfectly in balance.

 In the evening shade I watched a couple of dandelions close their flowering heads and I realized that they are beautiful.  At home I would have pulled the yellow heads off in disgust but up on the mountain trail they fit just perfectly in the landscape.  Everything has a purpose.

When a big fat shiny beetle scurried across my path I stopped to watch him make his way.  At home I would have smashed him and thrown him outside.

As we were walking back we ran into Darren on the path.  As he and I walked along he remarked that the beauty of the mountain is how we know that we have a mother in heaven.  I mentioned that I wish she could teach me how to make my yard look like the beautiful mountainside.  The thought immediately popped in my head, "I already have."

I'm so grateful to live in a land of beauty where the earth as it has been created is appreciated by the people who live on it.

On Sunday (Father's Day) we went to the Franklin cemetery where we could honor and remember all our fathers.  The night was perfect.  Just cool enough for short sleeves in comfort.  The sun was setting behind us and there weren't any bugs.  Darren and his mom, Elva told us about our many fathers.  They shared so many stories about their lives.

I especially love one story about Darren's dad.  LaVar and his brother were walking along the dirt road that leads from Logan to Franklin to attend the celebrated Idaho Days parade.  As they walked along the dusty road in their bare feet, a big black car pulled up and the door opened.  The man inside asked the boys where they were headed and they replied that they were going to the Idaho Days parade in Franklin.  The man in the car offered them a ride and they climbed in.  He took LaVar's cheeks in his hands and asked "do you know who I am?" LaVar didn't recognize his benefactor.  Then the man told him that he was the prophet.  The boys were thrilled and their mother was embarrassed that her boys met the prophet barefoot in their dusty clothes!

I am grateful to be so blessed.  It's always so nice to have things put in perspective. The truly important things don't change.  There will always be something more to be purchased or fixed but in the end, time spend learning about eternal truths is where my true riches lie.

Two!

Jackson is two!

If it weren't for the fact that every stage the kids go through is cuter and more fun than the previous one, this "birthday" stuff would really make me panic.  

Here are a few facts about Jackson:

Jackson eats everything we give him.  Probably because he is almost always sitting on someone's lap at meal time.

Jack and Beau have a special bond.  They snuggle together every day. 

Jackson is decidedly right handed and he can really throw!

He talks more than any of our kids have at this age.  

His personality is very similar to Dallin and Landon at his age--he's a crazy, jumping, laughing, throwing, biting, snuggling, climbing, determined toddler!  

He looks most like Benson did at his age. And he is FAST like Benson. 

He likes to read (and read and read...) and play with legos like Austin did.

He colors like Jenna did at his age. Very meticulous. 

He has blue eyes and light brown hair--more hair than any of our other
kids have had at his age.
He sings all around the house and he matches pitches.
When he wants me to stop talking or get off the phone
he will say "pause, pause..."

 He will choose to 'rock-a-bye' with the older boys as much as with mom and dad.

 He sleeps in a bed with Benson and he has never woken up at night since
we moved him in with his brother. Benson says his favorite thing about Saturday is that Jackson wakes him up in the morning and they play on their bed together. 

He loves to go  to sleep at night snuggled "down a Daddy." 

What every teenager needs.

Every kid needs to take a nap with a baby once in a while.  I think if everyone took a nap with a sleepy baby everyday we would have complete world peace.

Of course when this baby woke up his brothers "played" with him by spinning him around and around so they could watch him try to walk...poor thing.  Jackson laughed and laughed though so I guess it wasn't so bad.

We had a great weekend watching general conference.  I love conference.  Of course we ate cinnamon rolls with our favorite brown sugar caramel frosting. Yum.

I loved President Holland's talk about envy and coveting (among other things...).

Last night Rustin and I called all the kids in on our bed and talked about conference and about how much we love our kids.  We talked about President Uchtdorf's talk about forgiveness that began with a story about a mother who wrote about her children who weren't speaking to each other. I think I would curl up and cry if I had adult kids who wouldn't get along or who wouldn't come home.  The thought of not having my kids all together is terrifying.

Know what I am excited for this weekend?  Easter.  Jotham and Jamie are coming over and Jamie and I are going to make matching dresses for our girls.  Jenna never has a girl to match with on Easter. I'm so excited! Pictures to come...

Manna in the form of nectarines

I wrote the other day about how my life felt like a hurricane.  It still does. Three football teams, scouts, activity days, music lessons and a husband who is usually gone are making driving and meal times ridiculous.  In fact I've been feeling very sorry for myself lately.

Thursday morning I was feeling especially sorry for myself when we read in the Doctrine and Covenants 42:25 for morning scriptures. The Lord is talking about how sometimes he talks to us through "the voice of lightnings... tempests...pestilences of every kind" and still we don't listen.

 It occurred to me at that moment that maybe my own personal storms are the Lord's way of reminding me to listen.  I need to ask Him for help more often.

Later that evening  I was rushing around trying to find  food  for everyone before they had to leave for the night and my hands were sticky, my hair was a mass of frizz, Jackson was crying, and my attempts to keep the house tidy were completely nullified.

Someone came to the door to bring the missionaries some food and she decided to bring some to me as well.

The best part?

She brought nectarines.  I love nectarines because I can just eat them.  They don't need to be peeled.  I don't have to can, dry, freeze or make them into jam.  They are just for eating. No guilt.  My mom also brought some peaches that were cut up into beautiful little baby food size chunks and put into lovely jars.  No work and no guilt for me.

I was reminded by a stranger that I am not forgotten.

For my Dad

My Dad just had his birthday.  I never quite know what to do for him--he doesn't like to get presents;  he says it makes him feel anxious. What if  the gift is something I already have?--how do I make sure the gift giver knows I appreciate the thought even if the gift isn't perfect? etc...
    
So what do you do for your dad?  I still don't know but I do have a few great memories that I don't want to forget.  One in particular was from my college days.
    
One year at college I had an crush on a boy in one of my study groups.  Back then my dad went up to Rexburg for Army reserve training one weekend a month and he would usually come by to visit.


One weekend we spent some time together on Saturday and I told my dad that I was going to go to a play with "the boy" later that night.  But as things turned out "the boy" totally stood me up.  I was sad and rejected.  I don't know how my dad knew but he showed up at my door and just said,  "I was thinking of going to a play."  I didn't have tickets so we went stood in the standby ticket line where after just a few minutes someone just happened to come by and offer us his tickets.  I don't remember what the play was but I do remember my date that night and the feelings are still very tender to me.


Living in the same town as my dad as an adult has taught me more about his soul than the 18 years I spent under the same roof.  My dad worries about keeping people happy.  What I used to perceive as frustration or irritability I now know to be a  tender heart that doesn't like to see unhappiness.  He often shows up at my or Kendra's house to fix whatever is broken or to splice a vacuum cleaner cord bitten by a puppy (I should just happen to leave out the CD player, iron and fan).  Or sometimes he "lets" me cut his hair so we can have a few minutes to visit followed by a hug.  On his days off he works until he can barely keep his eyes open.


Friday night he spent a couple of hours playing Wii with Austin, Jenna and Benson.  What more can I say.

I don't have a gift to give my dad but I want him to know that I see him.  I know who he really is and that makes me feel lucky.  I want him to be happy and to have peace in knowing that he has done well.

A re-do wish?

I don't have a lot of regrets in my life.  Only a couple.  One of the biggest is that I don't remember the first six months to one year of the twins' life.

 I really don't.

There are a lot of reasons--severe sleep deprivation, a bit of untreated postpartum depression (see previous reason...), work, and denial.  I didn't realize at the time that my life with tiny twins was unique and would be gone in a second. I didn't keep a journal so I can't really trust my memories.  I started writing a blog a few years ago so that forgetting would never happen again.

But, every once in a while it feels like there just isn't much to remember.  There's nothing exciting to write about--I still feel nauseated (pregnant).  the boys love football.  we had another trip to the ER. homework still gets ignored sometimes and the socks STILL aren't matched.  Hmmm.

This line of thinking led me to a specific memory...

I do not like flying.  I never have.   I have a few stand out memories in my life that reinforce my dislike of airplane travel:  A tiny, toddling Benson grabbing a strange man's water and dumping it all over the lap of his nice suit pants;  running out of my stash of "desperation only treats" before the plane even left the runway;  trying desperately (and unsuccessfully) to keep two pairs of three-year-old legs from kicking the seat of the glaring woman in front of me.  Most of the time those things were just unavoidable and unchangeable side effects of flying with tiny children.

There is, however one particular flight that I really wish I could re-do.

 I sat next to a businessman who was eager to show me pictures of his bikini-clad identical twin toddler daughters.  He went on to talk (for most of the flight) about how he took his girls and the nanny ("who had her own separate room of course") on a business trip to Hawaii so his wife could have time to pursue her career.

"And sometimes", he bragged, "I have the housekeeper just take the girls outside to play so my wife can have time to cook whatever she wants".

And--he was quick to mention--his wife was busy writing a book about how to raise twins.  *excuse me while I chuckle for a minute...*

He talked about interviewing preschools for his girls so they could start on "the right path-because you can't get into the right schools if you don't start in preschool."  He talked about tennis lessons and music lessons.  He went on and on.  I felt like I was being lectured in a very subtle manner.  Like he was trying to graciously show a poor woman what real life is like.  For one of the only times in my life, I really didn't know what to say.

For the first time in my life I felt like a dowdy, uneducated woman who had a million (four at the time...) kids.

What I know now and wish I had said then is that I would never, ever trade my life for his.  Not even for a trip to Hawaii with a nanny. I am sorry for all the things those kids will miss.

I love to see my kids ride bikes down the street and run barefoot to the neighbors to see if they can play.

I love having sweaty, dirt-covered faces show up for lunch every single day.

I love that I don't have to have a number and identification to pick my kids up from school.  They see my car and come running.

I love sitting on the grass at football games while my kids play under the bleachers with all the other kids.

I love that I can go to the park packed with  moms and kids eating lunch and leave to see that not one person (I'm not kidding here) has left their garbage on the lawn.  Every other mom is saying "if you don't pick it up then who will?"

I love it. Love it.  LOVE it.

I come from a long, long line of happy moms who are married to happy dads who have raised happy kids who have made great contributions in life.  Who can argue with that?

Tennis lessons, fancy preschools and exclusive nannies are just poor substitutions.  It's the regular old life that I want to remember.  If I ever sat next to that man again I would tell him how sorry I am that he can't have my life.  And I would completely mean it.

And I'm going to write about it so I don't ever forget one minute.

Rockin around the Christmas tree

This last week was filled with sickness, laundry, overdue homework and a husband busy with tithing settlement... The freshly cut Christmas tree from Franklin was replaced with piles of half empty Christmas boxes. (We didn't get to go to Franklin this year after Thanksgiving...) I've been missing the holiday cheer that keeps me going this time of year.  Really missing it.  I mean like struggling-to-get-out-of-my-pajamas-before-noon....

Then, just when it felt like there was no rescue in sight, we had the perfect Saturday. 

No scouts, birthday parties or meetings.  Just us.  The weather warmed up to a toasty 32 degrees (compared with the previous -0 weather of the last couple of weeks. Rustin proved to the boys that he can still take all of them in a snowball fight.  Though I'm not sure how long that will last...

And we had all of my brothers and sisters home for our Patterson Christmas party.

We danced around the Christmas tree and ate lots of good food and played lots of games and sang Christmas songs.  

When we came home the house was clean and organized.  (At least to a tolerable degree...) Ahhhh. 


And today my sisters helped me regain my sense of family and purpose.  They couldn't have given me a better Christmas gift.

Tonight will be our first annual night of the Twelve Days of Christ--a new idea I have to help us really enjoy the spirit of the season.  I'll write more on that later.  In the mean time I am going to try to relax and enjoy the things I love.

Perspective

This morning I lay on the couch completely avoiding my morning motherly duties.
I have never done this before because getting everyone out the door with all essentials in tow requires my full attention. Though lately the dark skies and cold temperatures have me wishing to stay in bed.
I am having a hard time embracing this new 6:30 am wake up time for the twins. They are too. We say every morning "we need to go to bed earlier don't we?" but then there are just too few minutes of relaxing nothingness in the day so we stay up too late.

But this morning, just for a minute, I felt different. I usually look at our big window and wish for the 100th time that I had the beautiful velvet drapes I have been dreaming about, but this morning I could see the sky. The clouds were moving so fast that I could almost feel my place in the universe. It's a very strange feeling.

The sky this morning was kind of purple and full of threatening clouds. It made me think of heaven. What I will feel like when I get to heaven? Will I say "it was really hard for me down there. I wish I could have done better" or will I say "I am so glad I got to have such a great experience. I wouldn't change a thing!"

I hope I will say that my spirit recognized the beautiful things on earth that were patterned after the world where we used to live.

Benson turns five tomorrow. That is somehow the official 'big boy' age. It is a different stage for us now. Did I enjoy those sweet baby cheeks enough? Did I give hugs in place of frustration enough? They grow up so fast. Much of the kids' toddler years were just plain exhausting for me.
It kind of feels like we are constantly entering new waters. Right now we are adjusting to growing kids and Rustin's overstretched physical, emotional and spiritual schedule. We have a lot of compensating blessings that none of us would trade, but it's still an adjustment.

In all, I guess I have been reminded that everything is a stage. None of it will last whether pleasant or unpleasant. Many have gone before me and have been able to keep their priorities in the right place. My ancestors have handed down a legacy of happiness and obedience. And I think their chance was over before they even knew it. Mine will be too. Today I will read again President Monson's quote on my side bar and smile at my laundry.

Who needs...

Who needs an alarm clock when you have a budding french horn player? (Austin and Dallin loved this!)


Who needs a gym membership when you have Uncle Tom to wrestle (Tom wanted this picture to prove he can still take the boys) and a canyon to hike (with cousins!)?




Who needs an interior decorator when you have Jenna and Benson?

Remembering our sweet little Molly girl...

We lost our Molly (our beagle) on Tuesday down at the Hatch's in Franklin. She was hit by a pick-up and was killed almost instantly. Dallin was with her at the very end.

We were sad and of course unprepared. We are so glad that she was in her favorite place in the whole world. (Beagle heaven=TEN acres to run and sniff and lots of other FUN dogs to play with!)

We burried her in a little spot on the hill. We gathered our family together and said our goodbyes and covered her little grave with rocks.

We learned a lot from Molly. We went through the teeth grinding pain of house training (honestly!). We spent hours upon hours teaching basic obedience (with good success I might add!). We watched and loved the miracle of life with her sweet little puppies .

We also learned about the requirements of being responsible for the well being of another creature. We brushed and cleaned up piles of hair. We went on walks in the rain and snow. We rolled down hills with leashes tangled with the laughter of kids. We were able to come up with a great consequence for fighting--I don't know if we will ever find something that will top 'ten pieces of poop for everyone--now!'.

I have heard people talk about how sad it is to lose a pet before but I never really understood what they were talking about. It was hard to see such a devoted and loving companion buried. Benson had the best perspective. The boys were telling him--"Ben, Molly is gone and we'll never, ever see her again." Benson just looked at them with a funny look and said "she'll be resurrected of course--like Jesus." It was sweet.

Everyone said what they liked most about Molly. The way she wagged not just her tail but the entire back half of her body whenever someone came home. Austin loved the way she always chose to sit with him at scriptures in the morning so she could lick his hands (??!) Landon was proud that he taught her to 'come'. Dallin loved throwing toys for her in the backyard. Jenna loved to dress Molly up. Benson has no memory of life without Molly. Rustin and I remember the time that she swiped three pieces of pizza off the table and buried them in the potted tree in the corner.

I remember the day she endeared herself to me forever. My good friend was over visiting with her six month old baby. Molly walked up to gather the scent of this new visitor and the baby reached up and grabbed both of Molly's ears in his little fists and squealed. Molly just looked up and licked his hand. Then she laid her head on the floor right next to the baby. She didn't just tolerate the children. She sought them out as her favorite companions. She did this time and again with all of the kids. I will just about go to the end of the earth for someone who loves my children with such devotion. Even if the someone brings an incredible amount of hair-shedding and yard pooping activities.

We are thankful we had Molly with us and we know that she is happy in "good dog heaven"--whatever that includes.

A bit of perspective...

Late last night as I was balancing our budget it quickly became clear that our recent bout with doctors offices, x-rays, stitches, shoes for five growing children, school supplies etc., has left our bank account looking a little more slim than we would like.

I woke up this morning feeling really sorry for myself. It felt like those plans for our dream house were taking far too long to materialize. How long is a girl supposed to happily feed an army in a kitchen that is barely wider than the span of her arms? Surely I have a right to whine just a little. I need a new kitchen and a bigger house to go with it, right?

About that time I got a phone call totally out of the blue from Felita Benally, Rustin's Indian placement sister. She lives in Chinle, AZ which is right in the center of Navajo Nation. She just called to say hello. We visited her home and her kids (5) when we lived in Page, AZ. Very humbling. She lives next to her grandma who speaks no English--only Navajo, as she weaves blankets for a living. The grandma, by the way, still asks (in Navajo) 'I wonder how big that little blue eyed girl is now?' (Jenna!).

As we visited about life in general, Felita told me she still lives in her little one room hogan. She has no running water and no indoor bathroom. I mean seriously. She heats her place with a coal stove. She has five children in a house not much bigger than my living room. She told me how she wishes she could have a sink full of dirty dishes because then she would have a sink. Not even a big fancy kitchen or a dishwasher. Just a sink with running water.

It was probably not a coincidence that I got that phone call this morning. Someone's watching out for me. I think I'll go wash my dishes.