Back on the Bus

The last time I sent only three kids to school was ten years ago. Here's proof of that. It was Phoebe's first day of Kindergarten, Cooper's first day of 3rd grade, and Peter's first day of 5th grade.

And here we are again, but this time with Phoebe in 10th grade, Sophie in 7th grade, and Topher in 3rd grade.

Until seminary starts, the girls will be on the same bus in the mornings.

Everyone reported that they all had a great first day!

Dandelion Days

I was looking back through post drafts that I'd started but never finished. I found this picture with this title from back when we lived in the Chicago area, about ten years ago. I remember exactly what it was about, even though I had never added text beyond the title.

Phoebe and Sophie were still young enough that they weren't in school yet. They spent a lot of time playing pretend and running around in the backyard. On this day Phoebe had brought me this bouquet of dandelions and they'd ended up on the counter, next to the toy hair dryer.

It struck me then how fleeting this stage would be, the time of gathering dandelions and bringing them to mom with love and wonder. I'm glad that, even in the midst of the overwhelm and tired, I was aware that I should pay attention and notice the importance of these tiny moments.

And it's true, we are past the dandelion days. Topher will still occasionally bring me one of the yellow flowers, but we've mostly moved on to other stages. I love watching my kids learn and grow and become who they have the potential to be. But there's a sweet melancholy thinking about the exhaustion and happiness of the days when they were little.

Father and Daughters

One of the pictures from the Valentine's dance reminded me of another picture. These were taken a little more than 10 years apart from each other. I love that the feeling is still the same.

A Long, Long Time Ago

Bryan's dad rediscovered this gem that Bryan edited together eighteen years ago. One thing that's interesting to me about this video is that Peter still has some of these mannerisms. And he still gets silly and goofy when he's tired. Somehow this simultaneously feels likes it was many years old and like it just happened.

Time is weird.

Peter is funny and entertaining, then and now.

And Bryan is still clever.

The Same and Different

This picture of Peter, taken about a month before I started the blog, popped up in my memories from Google Photos today. If I'm not mistaken, I believe he still sometimes sleeps with his legs crossed. I don't think he snuggles his water bottle anymore though.

The Giant's Kitchen

Once upon a time, way back in December of 2017, Sophie and I visited a restaurant supply store. She was delighted to find a whisk that was nearly as tall as she was. I'm pretty sure she could have fit in that stock pot if she had tried. 

A Long, Long Time Ago

Yesterday had some rough patches. After more yelling and arguing than I wanted to be part of, this picture popped up in my memories. It helps to see them when they were tiny and sweet. This brown-eyed boy is 16-month-old Peter. I'm putting it here so I can find it easily to look at and calm myself when the 17-year-old version is out of sorts.

Different and the Same

This picture was taken sixteen years ago today. Hmm, I think one of them has changed a bit more than the other.

When I downloaded this picture I discovered that someone had titled it "Peter is Awesome! And Cute!" That's something that hasn't changed.

Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand Six Hundred Minutes

My thoughts keep jumping back to this time last year. We were days away from closing on the house and full of stress and anxious anticipation. I had created a schedule for packing so we would be almost completely boxed up by closing day. That plan didn't happen as intended. Bryan and I were ready to complete several home repairs before we moved our stuff in. That mostly didn't happen either. In fact, our list of repairs and upgrades seems to grow with each month we're in this house rather than shrink.

That said, I'm so thankful for this house. And I'm especially thankful that we're a year into this adventure and not where we were last August.

Babyface

Remember last week when I wrote about looking young? 

A few days ago a high school friend tagged me on Facebook in a choir picture from my sophomore year. This picture of the Chamber Choir was taken on the steps of our fine arts building. In other words, between drama classes and theatre rehearsals and productions and choir classes and concerts and dance recitals and nearly every lunch for the two and a half years I attended this school, this is the building where I spent most of my high school career. It wasn't until I was in college that I discovered having a large high school campus with multiple buildings was something unique to warm climates.

Can you find me?

I showed the picture to Bryan and his first comment was, "You look like you're ten years old, and like Phoebe."

I was fifteen.

What makes his comment even funnier is that I distinctly remember some of my classmates thought I was older than they were because of my vocabulary. So I had a young face and old words.

And for the record, Phoebe is actually ten years old, but because she's so tall and articulate, people usually think she's older. The dental hygienist that cleaned her teeth last month thought Phoebe was twelve.

Generational Differences

As part of my bedtime routine with the girls I tell them a short story about either their life or mine. They usually pick a topic, like "tell a story about a dress" or "something about curtains", and I quickly rack my brain for something that relates.

Tonight during bedtime Sophie asked me to tell about the earliest movie I could remember seeing. I did talk about viewing The Care Bears Movie in the theater, but I happened to mention that my Grandma would tape movies for us to watch and Sophie had no idea what I meant. So then I spent time explaining what video cassettes and VCRs are. Also, she felt great pity for me that commercials could not be skipped during my childhood.

Mother's Day Epiphany

Most of my adult life people have told me that I look younger than I am. It was mostly amusing and occasionally irritating, like when I tried to get a quote on a wedding cake as an almost twenty-one year old and was questioned in a shocked voice if I was even sixteen yet. But I never really believed that I looked as young as they said. I knew my own face, I knew that I was aging.

A few days ago I got a Google picture notification letting me know that I had memories to view from fourteen years ago. I opened the app to see chubby cheeked Peter when he was still the only child. I was twenty-six, nearly twenty-seven, when the picture was taken.

And I look like I'm about fifteen.

Seriously, I was shocked at how young I looked. I guess all those people were right, I did look crazy young.

Don't worry though, I'm pretty sure having an additional four children, raising those children, zig-zagging across the country, and living through the last year have brought my visible age equal to my actual age. Heck, I may have even swung the other direction.

The takeaway? Motherhood makes you look old. Totally worth it and important? Yes. Ages you like crazy? Also, yes.

The Memory Keeper

This picture represents a significant number of hours of my time. After nearly thirteen years of writing the blog and a few years of printing it, the printed hard copies are totally up-to-date. The 2020 books arrived last week. I love that these are here and easily accessible to the kids. They love pulling them out and rediscovering all the adventures and funny quotes chronicled therein.

Now when people ask why I stay up so late I can tell them it's because I'm busy filling a bookshelf.

Stationary

Yesterday was a big day, and I didn't even think of it until bedtime. It was four years ago yesterday that we got the keys to this house. Four years is the longest we've ever stayed in one house or even one ward. The longest stretch before this was three and a half years in the same ward in Pleasant Grove, UT, but we lived in two different condos while there. Before that it was three years in our Wymount married student housing apartment/ward, all before we had kids. 

Four years feels a little like forever.

The Big Picture

Here's something that I think is amazing: I can have a conversation with Peter and see his nearly 6'2" frame that almost outweighs me and hear his deep, close-to-adult sounding voice, while simultaneously seeing newborn Peter taking in the world around him, and fifteen-month-old Peter when he was sick and only wanted me to hold him, and three-year-old Peter who always had a silly joke to share, and five-year-old Peter who was continually creating scenes out of paper and crayons, and nine-year-old Peter who was so insecure and aware that he was different from the other kids at school and wanted to talk out those feelings with me long past bedtime. I can see him in all of these stages, remember experiencing them with him, and yet still be aware of this moment that we're in now.

I wonder if that's how Heavenly Father sees us, our past and present and future added in, all rolled into one complete picture of who we are.

At Home

We are sick. We are coughing, aching, sniffling, dripping sick. Our voices are getting gravely. My energy has disappeared. It is miserable.

And yet, I keep thinking how thankful I am that we're not in the hospital.

It was this week last year that Topher was in the hospital with RSV. That was such a long, awful, scary week. His recovery was slow and he still is the first one to catch whatever respiratory illness is going around. But he recovered. And we're sick, but we're sick in our own home. and for that I'm exceptionally thankful.

Hand in Hand

Young Men (for Peter), Boy Scouts (for Peter and Cooper), Cub Scouts (for me), and Activity Days (for Phoebe) all take place at the same time, which makes Wednesdays late nights for us. After we get home the boys inevitably want a snack and sometimes have homework to finish. It was nearly 9:30 when the boys finally fell into bed last night.

Usually Bryan does bedtime while I take care of Topher, and sometimes I'll take care of the girls routine and maybe even Cooper's if Bryan is working late, but I rarely tuck Peter in. Last night though, Topher was asleep when we got home so I tucked the big boys in.

When I do bedtime with the three middles I have them pick a song, then I hold their hand and sit on the edge of their bed while I sing to them. I did that for Cooper last night, he asked for Hush Little Baby, or the mockingbird song as he calls it, his usual choice. Then I asked Peter the same question. He asked for the moon song, I Don't Want to Live on the Moon from Sesame Street, his favorite from when he was small. I settled down on the edge of his bed and started singing.

That's when something unexpected happened. As I sat, holding his hand, I had a flashback to when Peter was still an only child. When he was a one-year-old he and I took many walks through the Provo neighborhoods around our apartment, his small chubby hand in mine. Then I came back to the present, singing the song I'd sung so many times before, his hand in mine. Except now, my hand is the small one. Tears filled my eyes and I had to slow down the song a few times to keep my emotions from over powering the singing.

When I finished Peter said he was glad he wasn't a typical teenager who was too cool to hug his mom, then he gave me a big hug.

Oh Peter, I'm glad too.

Reflections

Phoebe is participating in her school's Reflections contest. Last year she entered a piece of art. This year she has written a short story. The theme is Heroes Among Us. She went through several drafts. Each time I read it I would ask her questions about what she remembered from that day and how she felt. Each version had more detail. She finished the story yesterday and I asked her if I could post it here.

My Hero

by Phoebe

It was a hot hot Memorial Day in New York. Me, my brothers Peter and Cooper, my sister Sophie, my dad, mom, and my uncle Dallin, were in New York City to see the Brooklyn Bridge.

After we were in New York for a few hours we stopped at McDonalds to cool off. We decided to order something. We ordered an orange soda with ice. Then we left. Me, Sophie, Cooper and Peter were taking turns drinking the orange soda. Soon it was gone. Then we started to suck on the ice.

At first it felt good cooling off but I soon felt a lump in my throat. I tried to swallow it but it wouldn't go down. I turned around to tell my mom about the lump in my throat but I found that I could not talk! Suddenly I realized that I was choking! My eyes grew wide, they started watering. My heart was beating very fast and I couldn't breath  I was very scared.

My mom asked me “Are you choking”? I slowly nodded my head. Then she came up from behind me and it felt like she was giving me a bear hug. But she was actually doing the Heimlich Maneuver. The ice flew out of  my mouth. The ice went on to the street. I started to cry my mom gave me a real bear hug. I had mixed emotions. I was happy and scared.

My dad said, “Let's stop sucking on ice.” We all agreed. The nearest trash can we found we threw the cup of ice away.

When my mom did the Heimlich Maneuver she saved my life. If my mom didn’t do the Heimlich Maneuver I might not be here today. My mom is my hero.

A Snapshot of Peter

I want to make sure I remember Peter right now.

Gangly, loud, and goofy, he's also helpful, intelligent, and eager.

He still is excellent at pushing buttons and stays in such good condition by practicing daily.

At the same time, he loves Topher immensely and comes home each day to say how much he missed that tiny boy.

He doesn't like to clean, but will help when motivated by the desire to play video games and, more recently, by the desire to alleviate my stress.

He is shockingly smart, he always has been, but now his teachers can see it like we can.

For years he has wanted to be funny, but his inability to understand social cues has made humor difficult. Now, however, he's finally picking up on how to deliver a zinger, how to time it right, and when he should keep his comment to himself. He's not perfect at this, but he's improving.

He wants to hang out with Bryan more than with anyone else. I'm not sure how much longer this will last now that we've been in one place for a few years and Peter has lots of friends. But it's still wonderful that he looks up to Bryan so much.

He's surpassed my skills as a pianist. He still doesn't love to practice, but I think he's beginning to see the benefit. He excitedly ran in from the library recently to ask if I'd heard the song he was playing. I said yes, then he showed me that the sheet music was only the right hand with chords written over the top. He was so pleased that he knew each chord, even though all that was written was a letter or two.

He still loves to read.

He also loves to eat and he is ALWAYS hungry.

He's stuck between wanting to play imagination games with the younger kids, but feeling too big and old to do so. This is especially evident when we're at the park and there are other kids around.

He's nearly done reading The Book of Mormon for the first time on his own. I love that he'll interrupt his reading to ask me a question or make an observation. I was two years older than he is now when I read it for the first time. And he's encouraging Cooper and Phoebe to catch up to him.

He's a good kid. No, he's a good young man.

Sharing

Google Photos reminded me of this gem from when Peter and Cooper were small. I laughed when I watched it because I can imagine twelve-year-old Peter doing something similar.