I Was Skimming Through

a blog I like.  This person decided to take a portrait of each of her children once a week for the year.  It was her New Year's Resolution. 

I loved that idea.  Then I meandered onto my blogger dashboard and realized that not only have I not blogged in quite some time, but that my last post was a bit depressing.  And it wasn't about my cute baby!  What?! 

Samuel Bowen is 8 months old.  Already.  I just can't believe it.  He changes so fast.  And I know my other children do too.  I may have to adopt this "once a week photo" resolution. 


I guess for today, I will post some photos of Bo.  Some of my relatives don't do Instagram, and so don't see the many pictures I take of my baby, and have requested that I post some.

Here are a couple for now (from his younger days - last summer).  I promise to add more soon!

Monday's Memoir: I Will Not Die With This Regret

i took lessons in brief stints
with months or years in between.

Then one day, (during one of the breaks)
i wanted more 
i sat myself down at our piano
opened a book
pieces i had not yet heard
could not comprehend.

it was painfully slow
taking my right pointer finger to the sheet music
face almost kissing the paper
carefully counting the lines and spaces
from middle c (because I knew where that belonged)
to that mysterious note marked on the page,
i held my finger still, memorized the number
and then, using my left hand
I would walk my fingers from middle c
down or up the keyboard
the same number
play the note
say the name of the note

for

each

note

i


did

this.

soon,
i got faster and faster
i began to know
i could pick up simple pieces and just play them
at first glance
my mother caught me
praised me
"you can sight read"
and she signed me up for lessons again.


i performed at my first recital
when i was 14
it was a simple piece
i was certainly no virtuoso, but afterwards
a man came up to me and said,
"you have the touch -you love the music and play with feeling"
i was surprised
but i believed him
because he was a stranger

it was a work that brought simple joy to my day
every day after school.
I wasn't forced to practice
i liked it
i got lazy too, playing 
the same hymns, the same old recital pieces
my mom would walk by and coach
slow down!
don't muffle through the difficult parts!

occasionally i branched out and learned new things
running into new music at grandma's house
was a thrill -
a new emotion
a new rhythm
a new mystery to unlock
and set my heart to.

always, it begins slowly
and then
fast,
usually too loud,
pure joy.

everyday there was time for music.

when i grew up
i thought i had to let it go
it was more like an afterthought
i didn't cry about it or anything

i had reasons
i was in love, moving out
apartment was too small

now
a house that's too small

sometimes i get to play in church
i have lost a lot of strength
i fumble
notes that I worked so hard to know
are puzzles on the page again,
but it still brings me joy

i miss the piano
i have lived almost as many years with out it
as i have with it

when it comes to the mystery of time
perspicuity comes in retrospection
now, I see - 
we insist upon things
or we don't
time does not care

sometimes
i feel deep regret
at missing out
at not making it a priority
letting it go so easily (how could I do that?)

my children should have grown up
listening and playing
they don't know
how much i love it

i have cried about it
some days.

but 
I am making a 5 Year Plan.
It includes a giant piece of furniture.
I look forward to sitting down to play
and play...

A Mouth Watering Opportunity

Sweetness in work
requires one to
take a bitter first bite of the branch
and chew, for a short time,
breaking up the tough, thick bark -

and then you find the tender, green middle
it is an invigorating sugar
rewarding one with a desire to
keep tasting.

 It is a soft center
-the reason for starting
-the joy in the doing
-an easy nectar

I am a childish soul,
with shallow forsight-
always forgetting the second part.
I pinch my mouth closed,
shake my head side to side.

Sometimes, I attempt to build up the nerve
Turning the stick over and over,
looking for the easiest way to start at it
resisting the intial roughness on my tongue.

The wiser soul does not hesitate
to grasp the scabrous timber
and bite hungrily.
-He knows-
His jaw strengthens
He can chew down thicker, tougher tasks
His capacity to take in sweetness increases
when he does not hesitate.

12 Things (Only One Third of Them are Irritants).

I am reading The Wednesday Wars by Gary D. Schmidt (cute book, so far).  We are reading this in my book club group and when I learned it was juvenile fiction, I decided I would read it aloud to my children.  It is a last stitch effort to do at least one constructive and educational activity this summer, before school begins again.


This was my view when I finished the chapter and looked up at my brood: 12 Observations follow:

1.  "Hey mom, make sure you take a picture of my good side"- then he turns, just so.

2. Vibram 5 Finger shoes. My boys are big fans.  Me, not so much.  They get stinky.

3. Hence, the foot powder, which has been left on the arm of the sofa (a huge pet peeve of mine, because things left there end up falling on the floor making mess and racket).

4. Another pet peeve.  These cushions.  Which always look mashed and messy.

5.  Pet peeve #3.  The remote control left on top of squishy cushion, to inevitably be dug out from inside the sofa later on by an irritated Dad.

6.  I actually used a blur feature in a futile attempt to cover up the messiness and lack of design in my house.

7.  Marmalade:  the beast with which I compete in seeking affection from Sam.

8.  My only sweet girl.

9.  The pink swing my sister lent me, which has stirred a surprising many (albeit brief) conversations about nature vs. nurture of gender in relation to the color of baby supplies...REALLY, PEOPLE. 

10.  The only evidence (jacket dumped on the floor = PP#4) of a lovely evening prior, in the mountains, with delicious dutch oven food, and good friends.  I should have brought my camera.

11.  Proof that I wasn't seeing the trees for the forest whilst constructing this photo.  Makes it a better one, so it is okay.

12.  Sleeping baby in stripes = adorable.  Also, the reason I am having to type this post with only one hand.



***
I almost made this a " 21 things" post.  I really could of done it...is that sad?

Monday's Memoir: Practicing for the talent show april 2010

When I am home and all alone I dig through old things and take the time to remember.  This is what I found while rummaging through my computer.

Am I wrong, or did my my daughter make an adorable 8 year old?  She is most definitely one of the sweetest parts of my life.

Monday's Memoir: A Girl With A Solid Constitution (another long one)...

 A fat baby I was.  And it was many, many years before my hair grew past my ears.  I was often mistaken for a boy, and my dad rarely corrected the assumption.  Someone would say something like, "Is he going to be a football player like his dad?"

My dad would just reply, "I hope so!"

My dad raised his girls to be tough, not boob or whine and we were to repeat often the phrase "self sufficiency" whenever a new skill was to be learned.   My parents let me be free to love what I love, whether it was "gender appropriate" or not.  My mother would let me wear the baggy sweatshirt and the super frilly clogging slip while riding my big wheel, barefooted, in the rain  (this is me to a T, by the way).   And when her co-worker had mistaken me for a "poor little polygamist girl" - my mother just laughed.

For this I am grateful.  But in certain social situations, I was awkward.

So when I ran across this photo of me laying on a couch that belonged to my boyfriend's parents -the couch that in a few minutes from the time that photo was taken I would soundly break - I got that awkward feeling in my gut that so often plagued me growing up.  

I broke that couch wrestling with my boyfriend.  I do not use the term wrestling as a euphemism for making out, either.  We were wrestling, half nelsons, the whole bit.  Once I made his ear bleed.  Once we broke his parents couch.  And he was my boyfriend.  

I look at that picture and get that awkward and embarrassed feeling in my gut.  Not just because we broke the couch, but because I think his family thought it was really weird. 

Other examples of this:

THIRD GRADE:
when the girls were playing tag with the boys and giggling and getting tagged (on purpose, some of them)  - I remember chasing a boy, grabbing him by the back of the collar and with a good twist and firm yank, he was eating grass.  My technique was solid and fostered consistent results.  I was on a roll.    By the fourth boy I was on top of the world.  I was killing it at that game. Surely these boys would be impressed with my mad skills, I thought.  I wanted them to be impressed.

"Ha!  TAG!"   I remember one boy looking up at me from the ground like I was crazy.  After that I wasn't allowed to play anymore.
 

COLLEGE.  (Yes, College):
I fell in love with my T.A. in college.   So when an extra credit opportunity came up to go fishing with him at Strawberry Reservoir, I was all over it.  A chance to be closer to him.  To hopefully impress him.  Here is what that morning looked like:

(The bald shirtless dude would be me)

 It was me, my dreamboat and a darling little blonde in a canoe (yep).  I was wearing my dad's team building work shirt that had a cartoon drawing of the Star Trek Enterprise on it, and some baggy jeans.  Hair was likely in a bun, hair whispies like wings fluttering at the side of my face.  She was wearing something more feminine (not her dad's) and a cute, perfect, bouncy pony tail.  

We both caught fish, but being the self-sufficient girl I am, I determined to do it without help.  Which I did.

And then, when we got to shore and Dreamboat T.A. showed us how to gut a fish, I determined to do it on my own.  Show him how I'm not a wimp, that I can take guts and get a job done.  As I began scraping out the innards with my thumbnail like a pro, I looked up to that adorable man expecting to see adoration in his eyes.  But what I saw was him leaning in close to help the squealing, but smiling, bouncing ponytail girl gut a fish.

He was smiling, too.  Once again, I thought...huh.  I think I am missing something, here.

Later, I participated in another extra credit project in which I spent eight hours digging fence post holes under a hot sun - digging with all my might for my beloved T.A.  He did finally acknowledge me.  "Wow, you're a really hard worker", he said.  I was flattered and smiled my biggest smile, but I would have liked to have been asked out.    I wasn't.  Of course I didn't realize all that work left me with a serious dirt mustache until after I got home.

In the end, I married the boy I use to wrestle.  He understood me.  He liked the way I was/am. 

As my mother in law has said, "There's a lid for every pot."

 Thank heavens.

Why I need to Chill out...

Despite yesterday's Yoga post, today I stressed all day about how I needed to get ready to have the missionaries over for dinner at 5.  I was stressing about what to make (something premade and easy, preferrably), when and how to go to Costco (with baby, or without?)  And Bo didn't nap well all day.  Plus the house was a mess and I had so much laundry to do and I'm out of soap and didn't feel like making any more (even though it's a cinch to make) etc, etc.

But we go about our day and even though Baby was not sleeping according to my plan (typical baby move), the family works together and gets it all done (except for the soap) and 5 O' clock rolls around.

As I look at the set table with fancy dinner of salad, ice water and Costco take and bake pizza, it is then and for the first time that day I think...

  I may have the wrong day.  They aren't coming. 

Duh. Now I have 1 and 1/3 pizzas cooked and just sitting here. AND  5 giant red velvet cupcakes I get to stare at and not eat because I'm still doing that stupid no treats challenge.


Then it was time for band practice.

I was seriously stressing about this.
Sam is so supportive and encouraged me to get back to singing with the 'Sugar Sisters' ASAP "before you get replaced" - he said.

So, I made sure to pump some milk.  I ended up asking Sam to come with me, with the baby.  I was so nervous about it because Bo is so fussy at night anyway and I wasn't sure if he'd take the bottle and I didn't want to leave Sam stranded.  He totally indulged me even though it didn't really make sense.  

Of course this is the first night EVER that Bo sleeps through the evening.   I don't know if it was the music or the fact that he cat napped all day.  Whatever it is, I had nothing to worry about. 

I  HAD  SO  MUCH  FUN singing again.  I really lost the music vibe during my pregnancy.  I hardly ever played my guitar.  I didn't even really listen to music.  I don't know what it was.   I did sing with the band a few times, which was fun, but never on my own.

I am starting to get the bug again. 


I guess the whole point of this post is to remind me that I need to chill out a bit.  Things work out.  

I am going to keep this in mind when Baby wakes up to play at 2:30 this morning. 

Being Stretched

I am trying out a yoga book.  

I am so stiff.  So weak and unbalanced. It is a lot of work to try and move this way.  I fall down a lot.  Despite this, I find that it feels soooooo good.

I can't help thinking how much it is like my life right now.

Bending to new ways of living.
Most of it is really, really good stuff
And some of it is a bit scary / unsure / or just plain challenging


Well, it's a mix of both, really, I guess

Sam the bishop, the devoted dad, the kind husband to a hormonal and sleep deprived wife,  facing a still unknown career change -and doing it all with poise, and purpose.  Truly a great man.

 

 

 

Fast approaching teenage years - and teenage challenges - delightful and sweet

New baby - New bliss - Relearning everything again

It will sound silly, but the yoga is helping to remind me in all areas of my life

to breathe,
readjust,
focus,
find balance,
be purposeful,
accept what I can do - accept my current limits - but continue to stretch myself,
and always, always make time for restoration and meditation (which, for me, includes prayer).


I am hoping to get to the point where it becomes a daily practice.  It's hard.  I am hardly ever in the mood to start.  But it's good to stretch. 

Right?

6 Weeks

I could share the birth story.

I could be writing daily

(so many wonderful days)

Who has time to blog?

My days are filled

All I do is baby watch

baby kiss

baby swaddle

baby

baby

baby.

Wouldn't you? 

I mean, look at this face.

 Pure bliss.

Heaven on earth.

Love at first sight.

And other lovely cliches that can't possibly do justice

to what I am feeling.

I am loving this time. 

This Inspired Me...

1.  I love Yoga.  And Climbing.  And Swimming.  One common thread between these three (and why I love them so much) is that they require a person to fully engage their whole bodies and totally focus their minds in order to accomplish the task. 

(Really this is true with every activity, but it's not so obvious to me I guess...)


I really haven't been very active during this pregnancy.  My body is suffering from it, big time!  With a month left to go in this pregnancy, my knee hurts, my back hurts and everything feels so weak.   I am determined to get into shape.  Gain strength, balance, focus -

I am going to spend 35 exploring the world of yoga.  I think it will help me out a lot.  My knee is stiff all the time, losing flexibility, starting to look a bit deformed (bone spurs, etc).  I need balance and strength.  I NEED it.  
  

and Yoga is da-bomb.

This guy, in this video, is da-bomb-diggity.  Very inspiring!  It's about more than just the benefits of yoga.  It's about deciding to believe in yourself and working hard to be excellent.   

I love that stuff.  I hope you have time to watch it.  You won't be sorry.




Have a wonderful day!