This video is well worth six minutes of your time. We should all take a minute to look for things like this in the world. Thanks Jules!
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Time flies
Dallin and Landon turned 11 last month. They are growing like weeds. We have really seen a lot of growth (of all kinds) this last year. The boys are looking more and more long-limbed and big-footed (like my invention of descriptive terms?!). They are ready to start football camps this summer. whoa! They are really such great examples to the younger kids. We are extremely pleased.
I'm going to include some pictures of scouts. The boys earned their arrow of light awards and bridged over into boy scouts. (Again--time flies!) Their scout troop set up a time line that will have them earn their first class scout award by this fall. Pretty ambitious--we'll see! They have a great group of boys their age which we are so grateful for.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Just some pictures--Memorial Day weekend
A great game of croquet...Lots of fun as usual. Jeremy came from behind to defeat Rustin and for once I wasn't the first one out! The weather has been really perfect. 60's and 70's.
Tom home from the Y of I for the weekend and for Emmet's blessing today. (still need to get some pics from that...)The blessing was held at Kendra and Chad's house with both families.
Ashlee home with Trevor
Tom home from the Y of I for the weekend and for Emmet's blessing today. (still need to get some pics from that...)The blessing was held at Kendra and Chad's house with both families.
Ashlee home with Trevor
Friday, May 23, 2008
Landon
London wrote a poem about himself for an assignment at school. I thought it was interesting. It was actually written centered but I can't figure out how to make this program do that...
Landon
Strong, tall, athletic, honest
Brother of Dallin, Austin, Jenna and Ben
Lover of summer, family and books
Who feels happy with family, sad alone and excited at birthdays
Who fears failure and spagetty squash
Who would like to see different countries and every state
Who lives in southern Idaho near the Snake River
Hatch
The kids have three days of school next week and then we are out for the summer! We are staying home for the long weekend. Rustin has a half day off today so we are going to Boise to the temple. We can't wait until that is a 2 1/2 hour ordeal instead of a 7 hour ordeal! For anyone interested, the open house starts mid July and the dedication is the end of August. It will be lots of fun!
Friday, May 16, 2008
A conversation with Benson
Benson usually spends most of his time playing with the other kids but occasionally he just hovers around me, whatever I'm doing. Last night was one of those nights. I was reading a book so most of the time he had to repeat himself three times before I got what he was saying. He can't say his s's or r's. I wish I could capture the way he just keeps bouncing all around me asking random questions. Try to imagine his little scratchy voice...Benson: (hanging upside down on the couch) Why do we eat beeth?
Me: (said without looking up) We need bees to make the flowers pretty.
Benson: long pause--(dancing around on the arm of my chair)--Mom, why do we eat beeth? (said in the exact same tone of voice as before.)
Me: oh, Ben we don't eat bees we just eat their honey.
Benson: (now trying to lift the recliner legs up) Oh, (pause) why don't we eat beeth? (again--same tone of voice).
Me: (finally looking up to make eye contact) Do you think a bee would taste good?
Benson: No way! Authtin's scared of beeth! (He was stung 6 times last summer--can't blame the kid!) long pause--ummm Mom, why do we eat beeth.
Me: Listen Benny, we don't eat bees or any kind of bugs, that would be yucky. We just eat the honey that bees make.
Benson: Oh yeah, honey'th good. (more dancing around the chair) And mom remember, ramen, pancaketh and chocolate chip cookieth. That's what I love. When will you make me some cookieth?
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Happy Mom's day!
Becki sent me this great essay on being a mom. It was referenced in Elder Ballard's talk about young mothers. Beck is a great example of a mom who doesn't take her child for granted. Thanks. Happy Mother's Day to all the great moms!
"But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs."
"On Being Mom" by Anna Quindlen
If not for the photographs, I might have a hard time believing they
ever existed. The pensive infant with the swipe of dark bangs and the
black-button eyes of a Raggedy Andy doll. The placid baby with the yellow ringlets and the high piping voice. The sturdy toddler with the
lower lip that curled into an apostrophe above her chin.
All my babies are gone now. I say this not in sorrow but in
disbelief. I take great satisfaction in what I have today: three
almost-adults, two taller than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I do and have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion of them, who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and cry, who need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their doors
closed more than I like. Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouth all by themselves. Like the trick soap I bought for the bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep within
each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past.
Everything in all the books I once pored over is finished for me now.
Penelope Leach, T. Berry Brazelton., Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry and
sleeping through the night and early childhood education, all grown obsolete.
Along with Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are
battered, spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages dust
would rise like memories. What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the playground taught me, and the well-meaning relations -- what they taught me was
that they couldn't really teach me very much at all. Raising children is
presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes multiple choice,
until finally, far along, you realize that it is an endless essay. No one
knows anything. One child responds well to positive reinforcement, another
can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout. One boy is toilet
trained at 3, his brother at 2. When my first child was born, parents
were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he would not choke on his own
spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put down on their backs because of research on sudden infant death syndrome. To a new parent this ever-shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing. Eventually you must learn to trust yourself. Eventually the research will follow. I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton's wonderful books on child development, in which he describes three different sorts of infants: average, quiet, and active. I was looking for a sub-quiet codicil for an 18-month-old who did not walk. Was there something wrong with his fat little legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he
developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I insane? Last
year he went to China. Next year he goes to college. He can talk just
fine.
He can walk, too.
Every part of raising children is humbling, too. Believe me, mistakes
were made. They have all been enshrined in the Remember-When-Mom-Did Hall of
Fame. The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language, mine, not
theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed. The times I arrived late for
preschool pickup. The nightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp.
The day when the youngest came barreling out of the classroom with a 98 on her
geography test, and I responded, What did you get wrong? (She insisted
I include that.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald's
drive-through speaker and
then drove away without picking it up from the window. (They all insisted I
include that.) I did not allow them to watch the Simpsons for the first two
seasons...What was I thinking?
But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while
doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now
that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of
the three of them sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing
set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate,
and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they
slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next
thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little
more and the getting it done a little less.
Even today I'm not sure what worked and what didn't, what was me and
what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday
they would become who they were because of what I'd done. Now I suspect they
simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand
ways that I back off and let them be. The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense, matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top. And look how it all turned out. I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have done more than anyone to excavate my essential humanity. That's what the books never told me. I was bound and determined to learn from the experts. It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.
"But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs."
"On Being Mom" by Anna Quindlen
If not for the photographs, I might have a hard time believing they
ever existed. The pensive infant with the swipe of dark bangs and the
black-button eyes of a Raggedy Andy doll. The placid baby with the yellow ringlets and the high piping voice. The sturdy toddler with the
lower lip that curled into an apostrophe above her chin.
All my babies are gone now. I say this not in sorrow but in
disbelief. I take great satisfaction in what I have today: three
almost-adults, two taller than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I do and have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion of them, who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and cry, who need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their doors
closed more than I like. Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouth all by themselves. Like the trick soap I bought for the bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep within
each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past.
Everything in all the books I once pored over is finished for me now.
Penelope Leach, T. Berry Brazelton., Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry and
sleeping through the night and early childhood education, all grown obsolete.
Along with Goodnight Moon and Where the Wild Things Are, they are
battered, spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages dust
would rise like memories. What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the playground taught me, and the well-meaning relations -- what they taught me was
that they couldn't really teach me very much at all. Raising children is
presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes multiple choice,
until finally, far along, you realize that it is an endless essay. No one
knows anything. One child responds well to positive reinforcement, another
can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout. One boy is toilet
trained at 3, his brother at 2. When my first child was born, parents
were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he would not choke on his own
spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put down on their backs because of research on sudden infant death syndrome. To a new parent this ever-shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing. Eventually you must learn to trust yourself. Eventually the research will follow. I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton's wonderful books on child development, in which he describes three different sorts of infants: average, quiet, and active. I was looking for a sub-quiet codicil for an 18-month-old who did not walk. Was there something wrong with his fat little legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he
developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I insane? Last
year he went to China. Next year he goes to college. He can talk just
fine.
He can walk, too.
Every part of raising children is humbling, too. Believe me, mistakes
were made. They have all been enshrined in the Remember-When-Mom-Did Hall of
Fame. The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language, mine, not
theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed. The times I arrived late for
preschool pickup. The nightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp.
The day when the youngest came barreling out of the classroom with a 98 on her
geography test, and I responded, What did you get wrong? (She insisted
I include that.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald's
drive-through speaker and
then drove away without picking it up from the window. (They all insisted I
include that.) I did not allow them to watch the Simpsons for the first two
seasons...What was I thinking?
But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while
doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now
that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of
the three of them sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing
set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate,
and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they
slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next
thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little
more and the getting it done a little less.
Even today I'm not sure what worked and what didn't, what was me and
what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday
they would become who they were because of what I'd done. Now I suspect they
simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand
ways that I back off and let them be. The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense, matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top. And look how it all turned out. I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have done more than anyone to excavate my essential humanity. That's what the books never told me. I was bound and determined to learn from the experts. It just took me a while to figure out who the experts were.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Joix de vivre...
I am the activity days leader at church. Austin has scouts at the same time so I usually take him home with me and with the girls that I drop off. He usually chooses the front seat--a bunch of ten year old gigglers are a bit intimidating for sure! Last week we were down to two girls left and Austin started laughing his head off. I mean like belly rolling, tears falling, pee your pants kind of laughter. We had no idea what he was laughing at but it was so infectious that within a couple of minutes we were all laughing so hard I couldn't drive. What was so funny you may ask...
He was making faces at himself in the mirror. We just have to smile...
He was making faces at himself in the mirror. We just have to smile...
Monday, May 5, 2008
And then there were none...
Though we shed a few (very few) tears this morning as our last puppy left, I am happy to be out of the potty training business for a while. Oh wait--I still have a three year old who is in and out of diapers. At least he doesn't chew my shoes! Anyone interested in our dog experiences can check out our other blog. This one is ALL ABOUT FAMILY!
We had a great visit from Rustin's parents last Sunday. It was a gorgeous day so we drove over to Cauldron Linn. That is a place on the Snake river where the water narrows to about 20 feet. When the water is high it is absolutely amazing to watch. That stretch of the river is a world class kayak route. No one has ever shot Cauldron Linn and lived. They have to portage around. The water was low last weekend so we got to see some amazing rock formations. Great pictures! I have lots to write as this is my primary journal method so check back!
We had a great visit from Rustin's parents last Sunday. It was a gorgeous day so we drove over to Cauldron Linn. That is a place on the Snake river where the water narrows to about 20 feet. When the water is high it is absolutely amazing to watch. That stretch of the river is a world class kayak route. No one has ever shot Cauldron Linn and lived. They have to portage around. The water was low last weekend so we got to see some amazing rock formations. Great pictures! I have lots to write as this is my primary journal method so check back!
