Milliman

My little girl and a girl named Maddy Ross.

2012-01-01T21:53:00.000-08:00

There are traits one wants to possess for himself but that feel out of reach and unattainable, forbidden fruit not worthy of my weakness. But still the longing is there. We want and we see a glimmer of what goodness we might offer ourselves and others if we but possessed these traits. But how easy it is to do little or nothing to get these traits. Easier to long and tell the painter who bloodies his mind and fingertips from the grief of trying that "I envy you," that "I wasn't born with your gift." "I can't even draw a stick figure." But in this accusation one belittles the painter's labor and mocks his interpretation of God's "gift" to him. It is treasured by him merely because he has loved it, nurtured, tended, been it's steady provider, woke up in the nights allowing it to sputter and hum, putting it's unsettling motifs to bed each night. The treasure was not neglected for personal reasons but for a parallel in stewardship the way a mother cares for her child. Not duty or glory bound just because it is what you do to a helpless treasure who can do nothing for itself.
Precocious Maddy Ross in "True Grit" found a season of necessity to seize a trait she needed. It became more than a want. A necessity for her to surround herself with those she deemed having "true grit" and found the elixir for herself in the process. How telling and insightful to witness one's journey lacking what was necessary to her and witnessing her leverage her way into learning how ugly and beautiful grit can be.
Discipline is what I seek. It is a trait that in times I have felt confident described me but for many moons this element like the tide that comes and goes has been absent. Today I crave it because I have need as an exemplar to my daughter. My kin needs a strong arm to lift her and help her learn to define her own qualities. Upon entering this world she ached and scratched at all those who wanted to help her. A deafening desire for independence is innate in her strong spirit. I see myself in her. My father said he knew of me instantly "Come hell or high water" I was bound and determined. Oh but woe, to channel that energy, to harness the tides is my yearning this year. To do so I realize she cannot be told what needs to be done. I must lead by example. And thus my gollums of comfort-consuming way to much sugar primarily packaged in the form of chocolate and sitting upon my laurels thanking my mighty start my metabolism is high are the basis' of needed change. I aim to curb my appetites and to exercise my body. And I hope in the process an unveiling will occur that I find my little girl and empower her to be a little woman.

500 words, less sugar and dancing with more little people

2011-12-31T18:44:00.000-08:00

A new year hours away. It is a special day for me as it was 12 years ago I met my love and my antidote for all ills in the world. That's a fairly monumental occurrence. It surely doesn't happen every day. It is worth remembrance and worth a lingering kiss at midnight, much preferred if it accompanies a night of wild, carefree soul-stirring dance. Annually I attempt a hearty effort at locking in a babysitter and heading out the door in heels and a skirt suitable for spinning but boo on the real world it is becoming increasingly challenging to get away with paying a babysitter $15 an evening for five darlings--no matter how cherubic they are. A few dances we crashed were LDS singles dances. Once I even got permission. As an aside, why in heaven's name does the Mormon community cease to hold dances regularly for married folk. Now that it is legal and encouraged to ogle and adore your match you are expected to do it in the privacy of your own home. Well, maybe this woman likes to show her man off. Did you ever think of that? I get high as a kite twirling and getting a gently small of my back pull in for an exchange of love. Then you put on a rock and roll song, oh brother, it's over, something primal happens to this non-rated R watching Mormon lady. With each progressive guitar riff I lose the equivalent of another limb with my erratic movements while simultaneously filling up a reservoir inside. I leave the dance floor with a measure of patience, a lessened desire for finding joy in negativity and such a vigor for life. Day to day living fairly proper and conservative (who wishes she were a bra-burning hippy)-a girl needs to let loose sometimes. That, my friends is how I do it. Unabashedly.
Tonight I am listening to a horrible assortment of "classic tunes." This one is "I'm not the kind girl who gives up just like that..." while the blond minions run back and forth in scarves and Mr Potato Head pieces in their ears and mouths. Wew, one has owl slippers and a butterfly wing charading as a fan. Yes, yes, we know how to breed 'em. But perhaps there is a lesson to learn in this morocca enhanced elevator melody. Perhaps this girl outta go find her man and blast some real tunes and make her own dance! This discovery unveiled through a little writing is precisely the reason I've chosen to write this year for self improvement. The resolution is 500 words a day. Also less sugar. Don't get me started...ok, ok, you didn't but I started myself and I am gonna finish. That's what this year is all about. Finishing what I have started, folks. I have got a generous heap of talents bestowed upon me by the Almighty. Thus far, I am falling miserably short of my potential. Not in the mindset of self-loathing that was yesterday. "Today is 2012, keeping it all on shelve. " Didn't quite work as I hoped, err, a friend of mine balls up her goals into an achievable type mantra. Stole the idea. Anyway, what I mean is all these talents finding deep recesses of my being, settling in their molding and dusty crevasses I am putting them on the daily shelf where they are out in the open, ready or me to develop them a little at a time. There are a million things I could outline but we all know how easy it is to fizzle and wizzle with too lofty of aspirations. Keeping it simple. On my mind's back burner I know the other things I want to improve but those pearls shall be for the quiet of my heart.
I am approaching this year with ambition, hope and a feeling of steadiness. This week I have been working on a painting, it's coming along nicely. Hoping to grow my dance/art studio. Praying to be strong enough to eat less sugar this year. I can't do this one alone but I know doing it is not only for me but for the health of my whole family. Thankful to a soul sister who invited me to write each day along with her. Hoping the other things like a gentler temperment and kinder delivery will somehow be discovered along the way as I put emphasis on my self rather than the beloved others in my life.

Moses is 7 today!

2011-03-02T11:18:00.000-08:00

Shiny, downy hair curls around his angled chin.

Distinct lips frown and smile to the extreme.

He's a guy curious about nature, about how things work, why they work, how things were made. He wonders how we know what color dinosaurs skin was, what the sun is made of.

His hypothesis as a toddler, "Glass, plastic and batteries."

He sticks up for his little sister when the older one tells her she has no fashion sense. He says it's not true and it doesn't matter. It's not important.

Fast like The Flash, he's got true grit.

His buddies are Monk the Monkey, Penguin and Phineas the baby brother. He feels a lot. the weight of the world, anger, stress, unfairness, meanness, irritation. He likes none of it. Crumbles when it is near. Champion of justice, love, brotherly kindness. Anti-Satan.

Free as a field of grass, wholesome as wheat. He's there when you need a hug.

He reminds me to keep wondering, loving, trying.

Happy Birthday my big seven year old, Moses.

I love you.

McCubbins beach

2011-02-25T23:54:00.000-08:00

"Alaska has long been a magnet for dreamers and misfits, people who think the unsullied enormity of the Last Frontier will patch all the holes in their lives. The bush is an unforgiving place, however, that cares nothing for hope or longing."-Jon Krakauer's Into the Wild
I know what this place is about. My memory tendrils grip the silt sand and gravel like the Kenai bluff by the McCubbins, year by year the rocks slip, the sand swallows itself and peels itself into the sand and sea below. A plot of land erasing the acres to convince its inhabitants it never existed. Yet I can never forget the scoop and swell feeling of swinging back and forth over that bluff on a home shop welded swingset made by "Uncle Ken", the one who swore and told slightly off color jokes through his missing teeth. Washed and purified, the crisp summer coolness and powder of sunshine warms my legs beneath my cut off jeans. The swing arcs as a gateway-Me on the back of Dave Rindlisbacker's motorcycle, sand softer than pearls, set nets and the rotten stench of a distant whale carcass, Dave Carlson's beach mazes that I always cheated to get out of, the windy sound of "My Favorite Things" woven through my friends voices, roasted hot dogs with friends and crushes, downstream-sessions of dip-netting, cloudy waves that pummel me down, sandcastles with Clinton with noble feathers, turtle domes, inedible sweet peas. Ebbs and flows, my heart races and slows. One hundred steps down the bluff. How many have stepped this course before? A mental painting effervescent, invigorating, reminiscent of youth and freedom. Here now, wanting my children to sketch similar patterns . Creating a canvas from which lines of development flourish. But this fierceness that Chris McCandless uncovered holds me back. Winter after winter after winter of quartz ice, crystalline sucks the idealism from my soul, scraping ice off the window breathing air that shouldn't be breathed fills me with anger. Layers of wool socks, ski-suit and scarves form an overcoat of resistance making it far too easy to stay isolated.

A Little Night Music by Adrianna

2010-12-04T23:16:00.000-08:00

Adrianna decided to sing us a song before she went to sleep. This is how it went...

"It's called roses everywhere you go, K um? And then it starts again. Where was I at I was at the pirate part. There was so much all of the pirates got all of our money and treasure and kept it forever the next found the gold. So they would find something different so they would find a treasure. They could not find it all so they rush and could not find it all. Like the sun blooming everywhere you go so we have the sun sing everywhere you want cause Jesus created it for you. So they had written a book that was very special the very special book that tells the future that tells everything they can find. Just one or two or three or five or six Just a little bit of sauce on the noodles cause the robbers stole all the decorations. Merry Christmas to one another. What should they do? They shout hurray. What are you doin for your Jesus Christ. We love our Father. Our Heavenly Father. We never ever forget his name. He's very nice we love him forever and ever and we know what our Savior loves us forever. So does everybody else we love our Savior Jesus Christ Hey!"

Shannon

2010-12-03T10:51:00.000-08:00

"Wise one," so say the Irish. My name is gossamery tulle, the N's dancing like awkward, passionate lilacs on an overgrown trellis. It starts with a hush, jumps up and then nests. It smells like rosemary wafting from my neighbors yard. Silky, second hand costumes like plumes to hide in. Soft fabric swaddles a pink baby. My name is sure, patient and elegant.

S tepping on mosaic stones

H osted by the Joyce K Carver Soldotna Library

A peppery taste is in my mouth. I uproot

N asturtiums, binding them together to make a

N ecklace reminding me of my connections

O f quirky family with roadmap veins and trick fingers stored in boxes. Magic tricks

N ever far from my heart.

Lunch with Teachers.

2010-11-22T10:47:00.000-08:00

Brimming with anticipation for what work Eli and I will bring to Alaska I chat with my new friend, Yvette about a State Trooper job. She shot hoops at the Native Shoot Out for the troopers with the "drunk goggles" on. She made 4/5 baskets. This job promising the allure of a cozy home with 3-4 bedrooms, a space for the music studio, an acre of land where the kids will collect fire weed, lupine and scratch 13 mosquito bites, get a wasp sting, yell at a moose eating the broccoli in our garden intoxicates me, displaces me from a goal of independence in creative employment and joy in each working day for Eli. At the round table Nina's head scarf and , hand-embroidered floor-length Russian Orthodox dress remind me of Kenai, of the bluff, the blue onion bulb towered church. The long haired, apostate who ran the place, reprimanded by the city police for stealing the funds charged by visitor tours. If you give a mouse a cookie style, that reminds me of the Russian teenagers at Soldotna Fred Meyer with their side sashes stuffing candy bar into their puffy side pockets. I reprimand my mind for such contrasting images as Nina speaks about the special ed child she assists at the school. Jack had lost his coke bottle thick glasses today. His computer talker device wasn't good enough to express his frustration. She gently imitates the stomping escalation that ensued. Like the dusting of snow outside causing light to reflect, Nina's constancy and gentility soothed his ruddy face and helped him retrace his steps. She cuts the vacuum seal on the smoked salmon her uncle had made. It smells of brown sugar and fish. Yvette spreads her spicy salmon spread onto a Ritz cracker. Another teacher had a Scottish cheese to contribute and proliferates from the French bakery around the block. Tasting the world on my tongue I think of the many years I have missed the rich, nourishing taste of salmon. The dark pink flakes separate in my mouth tasting like gold rush magenta. The special ed classroom warms of a slower pace-extra time and attention to the kids they teach. Jory, a fourth grader with learning disabilities and my guess of a rough home life sticks his head in the door. His speech sounds intermingled with ocean waves crashing, "Eww. It stinks in here! I am going out to recess...but I am NOT going to pick up the snow! I just wanted to tell you, I won a pizza last night." Yvette gave him a thumbs up and a smile as she was taking a phone call arranging pick up after school of her preschool age son. Her older daughter is expecting a baby any day now, her kids ages span 25 years. We talk about how all families work, of the unique treasures that expansive older children and younger children share. My daughter, older than my brother (her uncle) and my 15 year old sister her aunt, romp through the woods until they crushed a hornet's nest and paid a pretty price for such an oversight. One of my kids first, grand Alaskan adventures...a foreboding and realistic introduction to the unforgiving north that doesn't want friends. At this round table we partake of life. Nourished my what the land gives, in return, like Mica sloughing off a layer of resistance a melding of sisterly cement is felt. Conversation of what women speak of; menstruation pains, breastfeeding, children, husbands are lifeblood woven.

Lunch with Teachers

Pickled salmon wedged between my teeth

Savory crackers with dried fish

Yvette has five children, three raised, two still at home

She dances with the Native Elders, sons are learning to drum

Build the igloo, brush the snow

She kisses little Joe

Nina's dress handmade, fashioned of old world Russia

Knotted scarf on her nape

her eyes reflective

New husband, toddler child, teacher's aid

They know I can, there's hope for my little girl

She'll write of her 24 bee stings, her first fishing trip

Journal her first period, a mark of womanhood

But before she will cry at night

Worried she won't pass the third grade

Wounded Mrs. B doesn't like her thoughts

Attacked by labels she must find her strength

Women complete with culture

bound by common Alaska

Time to get my rear in gear.

2010-11-02T23:19:00.000-07:00

My myriad of lofty visions are swirling in my mind's eye. Many things I'd like to be with the talents that are mine but most of them I am currently hiding under a bushel for a rainy day or whatever other cliche I can come up with to politely excuse my current state of lack of personal productivity. But the rumbling has begun, like the swewn ash from Mount Spur back in the second grade, it is time for me to sprinkle this land with all I've got. Under my belt I have a week of heading to the gym at 5:30 a.m with a new found friend. She's a swimmer, too , has six kids and a nerdy husband and swims faster than me. Here we are, back home in the great state of Alaska. My old stomping grounds have a haunting and daunting foreboding of winter, darkness and this crisp tension in the air can't be far as today was the first day of snow that stuck to the ground. This probed me to don my long underwear and three shirt layers this blustery day. Wimpy, Portland tires caused me to drive slow and steady like the old turtle to substitute today. Got there safe and sound.

I'd like to be an ambitious, poised, engaging, active,beautiful, alluring wife and mother with a few tricks up my sleeve in the direction of community writing, a more successful entrepreneur and helpful networker/helpmete for my musician studio recording husband and constantly seeking something fresh and new as an exemplar to my children and so that I might have an insightful, intelligent perspective and a great big hug and kiss with the cookies and milk when they get home from school. To get me back in the swing of what it means to be an Alaskan woman I am doing something bold and challenging. I am competing in the Mrs Alaska America pageant 2010. To be a Mrs. in Alaska means to have a few rough edges, a keen sense of what is miserable, daunting, lonely, dark and cold but for the Mrs that triumphs she finds a community of many Misses, a loving and supportive husband, joy in her bright blue eyed, blond children's faces, hope for a cruciferous garden this summer (please, not harvested by moose), the solace of the midnight sun, children swinging in a tree, the dream of our own home someday, memories fishing, the glacial rejuvination of the Kenai River and a family that is deep rooted in this great land. Like John Steinbeck this land is interwoven with my memories. I can oft not discern where the painted land begins and my etched memories end. This adventure solidifies I am home and Alaska is my home.

Puff the Magic Dragon

2010-06-26T23:23:00.000-07:00

Mapquest said our car time would be one hour and forty minutes. Eighty something degrees in our greenhouse Toyota Previa with no air conditioning, lots of flapping wind- but the comfort of each kid with a water bottle, a care bear, Pippi Longstocking book, Monk the monkey and a num-num for those who required one (special blanket's name in the Milliman household). And away we go...first stop, the B's to drop Carolina off at J's birthday party. Bring your Littlest Pet Shop collection-there will be trading for those interested. A jubilant hug when the girls meet and not a look back. Next to Oregon City to meet the G's for A's birthday celebration. Oh how grand to be four and to know all the joy and celebration is in your honor! Loot bags bursting at the seams with tootsie rolls, cinnamon bears, lollipops, motorcycles and memories. Moses got to operate the remote control car, Adrianna did a lifelike chalk drawing of A's mom and herself (friends forever). Rainbow got hit in head with the pole used for demolishing the race car pinata. Moses was the first to win a prize. Phineas made friends with A's grandparents. When the fun had to end to go pick up Carolina they said, "That was sooo much fun!" We picked up Carolina and true to form she was more interested in getting to the next adventure with Pippi than detailing her every party move for me. But at least she was happy. Pirate music cd played and then the kids favorite tune came on, "Puff the Magic Dragon!" Sunny sang in her prettiest voice, Moses- his most earnest, Adrianna- working her memory power to its fullest capacity and Rainbow...repeating the words after hearing them and sounding so cute. Just like a sweet, old lady, hard of hearing but full of heart. The full sun shined through the glass illuminating her sprouting hair with a touch of gold amidst the whiteness. A day of content, happy, buoyed hearts, mostly peace amongst the siblings singing in what was closer to pure harmony than the Motab crew. My beautiful children so unaware that their blossoming souls were pulling at their mother's heartstrings so decidedly. This is what gratitude is.

a comment for a sweetheart?

2010-06-16T19:14:00.001-07:00

Perhaps a certain little Sunny Carolina could use a comment or two on her blog...
http://squeakieswebsite.blogspot.com
If you can find it in your heart it would greatly delight the little girl:)
Thank you friends!

Phineas meets his best friends

2010-06-03T19:42:00.000-07:00

It's not every day you are born and acquire 4 instant best friends, but that's the way the day rolled for our little guy. In the afternoon Clinton brought Carolina, Moses, Adrianna and Rainbow in to meet Phineas. A short parade of kids I missed walked single file with smiles and best behaviors and sudden coos of "Ahhhh, oh, he's so cute. Hi Fin-E-US!" Rainbow didn't see him right off. He's little and easy to miss. I scooped her up and hugged her and Eli brought Phineas over for her to see. She tilted her head to the right, what she does to magnify cuteness in the baby or animal forms. Everyone gave him soft kisses. Carolina held him dear, she seemed so mature and nurturing holding him. Moses was content and loved him right off. Adrianna was proud and pleased with the new addition. The nurse gave them all stickers indicating big brother and big sister status. She knew they were here from the happy sounds she heard coming down the hallway. The ride home showed our family's completion: 7 passenger Toyota Previa mini filled to capacity. Rainbow and Phineas next to each other, Rainbow ooed and awwed the whole ride home at the little baby next to her. Since coming home Rainbow likes to take moments to hold Phin, give me lots of kisses and motion for other's to "Come'ere" so she can show us the baby anbd how cute he is. Adrianna is helpful gathering diaper supplies and admires his new outfits. She loves the cute ones and is a fan of a stylish brother. Sunny holds him just like a grown up and Moses never tires of taking a turn holding him. He just discovered sometimes he can calm Phineas if he sucks on the side of his hand. Everyone loves it when he settles in calmness and takes a minute to show us his rich, dark, blue eyes and looks at us, his adoring fans.

Our little Phineas

2010-06-02T20:34:00.000-07:00

Phineas Coltrane Milliman entered this world sunny side up resulting in a scrapper's bruise to prove it. Sturdy and strong he is our burliest little guy weighing 8 lbs and 6 ounces. Eli noticed he has Christenson characteristics. Ryan's hands and feet, facial expressions we could see like like Ryan and Katelin. His hair seems darker but most people look at it and say, "THAT's dark?" Perhaps your perspective changes when the color spectrum in your household ranges from white to mellow yellow. Never trusting my instincts I suspected labor initiation about 10 pm May 29th. I called the midwife on call, Becky thought it was too early. We called around to get someone to watch our sleeping kiddos as in my gut and knowing my track record for speedy deliveries we decided to veto the midwife's assumptions. Wishing and washing around as I tend to do I feared inconveniencing many and doubted that this was the real thing as I wasn't in any pain yet we went anyway. We called about three folks on our list and none were available. We called Clinton. He was out on the town with friends and reluctant...could it wait? Um, not really, so he came over and his life was ruined for the next 40 hours. We stopped at the gas station, drove to the hospital, 20 minutes about-no traffic at midnight and nonchalantly strolled up to the Maternity level. Felt like we were coming home, baby number five to be entering the world via Providence Portland Hospital. At the desk I felt like saying, "I'll have the regular..." Instead I told them I thought maybe I was in labor. Michelle was our first nurse. She checked my cervix, dilated to a 4 or 5. Phew, in my mind that solidified that this was active labor....I DID know what I was talking about! Now give me my epidural. Please. But then Becky Bruns, the midwife checked and since my contractions were so irregular she wasn't ready to allow an epidural. Boo, hiss! Instead, go walk stairs for a couple hours and come back to be checked. So up and down 6 flights I headed. Coach Eli suggested I do what he did for basketball drills-hop stairs. So I did and let me tell you this was sadly the hardest I had worked out in a long time. But, may I remind you, I had a purpose in mind for being at this location and that purpose was 1st to have and epidural and 2nd to have a baby. I was not going to be a fool sent home so hop I did and contract this uterus did. It worked like a charm. After an hour of exerting power from within things were getting mighty painful. Eli suggested we go back and tell them to check again...and this time around dilated to about a 7. So yes, they got this woman her epidural. Thank you body for cooperating and quickly accepting an iv and thank you anaesthetist for this modern miracle. The pain leading up to the epidural was getting mighty unbearable. I was quite relieved to have the pain subside. Becky was simultaneously delivering another baby and trying to time both appropriately. I decided to take a nap. And told Eli to do the same. So after a couple hours of sleeping Michelle and Becky came back and suggested maybe we have this baby. Awakening from my dreamy slumber my first impression was, "Nah, how about I sleep some more." Quickly realizing this wasn't going to be the option I had I said, "Ok." The expectation was this baby would melt out but it wasn't quite as smooth as that. It took about 20 minutes to persuade the guy as opposed to a few minutes, probably a result of the face up position. Not too shabby. Before he was born Eli had a spell feeling low sugar levels and of course the impending trauma and excitement developing before his very eyes. Becky suggested he drink some orange juice and automatically he was fine again. He helped catch the baby supporting as needed and soon our little guy entered this world. Dried him off and put him in my arms. I hadn't yet had a good look at his face, feeling winded and my pulse was very low even after getting extra oxygen I was sure I'd soon enough get my chance. My first thoughts about this little boy in my arms were interrupted by a quick baby pee on my abdomen. Well, he was here. Our littlest Milliman, our little son. 8 lbs 6 ounces, 21 inches long and healthy on all accounts born at 6:39 am May 30th and apparently encased in one of the healthiest and heaviest placenta's Becky had ever seen. Not too sure what that indicates but we'll take it. He latched to my breast easily, seemed a little fussy and congested the first day but we cut him the slack deserved. He'd been through a lot. Eli and I are peacefully happy to have another precious baby boy in our family. Eli nurturing and loving our little infants is the epitome of what I love him for. He is most tender to the vulnerable who need extra love and care. Eager to give of his heart and time to the little people in his life. The big people, too. At nights when I feel most exhausted with all of our babies and little Phineas Coltrane is finding this truth now, Daddy is always there with a song, a tight swaddle, a prickly kiss that makes tender baby skin red and lots of love and gentility and wonder bringing comfort and joy to a sad or worried heart. This week we are taking a weeks vacation from work and this week we have to just be a family and to rest and to get to know the new little spirit that has come into our lives feels like time standing still. Disconnect from all the travails and stresses that daily we must bog through are forgotten for a brief interval. How I wish it could continue but nonetheless thankful we have this small window. We love our little Phineas. You are beautiful and bring heaven near.

A rough night.

2010-03-01T20:53:00.001-08:00

Rainbow caught the flu that Sunny had but gratefully it hasn't yet affected her with the throwing up portion. Last night she was feverish, sad and couldn't get comfortable. I tried my best to help her get a little rest but she had the hardest time settling in. Usually I am lamer than lame past 2:00 am and if Rainbow cries, sheesh...I let that girl cry. Often I sleep right through it. Eli with his ever churning mental gears who doesn't sleep well at night lets me and nestles his babies in and comforts when they need comfort. Last night I responded to her desperate plea and was thankful I had. Helpless little angel seemed so grateful for the little love I showed her. By 6:00 am her fever was a little better and I thought it was worth a try to put her in her crib. She fell asleep until about 1:00-after lunch. Still winded and not feeling so great but much better. Her fluffy chick hair and light pink wool sweater dress made her even more irresistible. I sure love her an awful lot.

Theatre is community.

2010-02-28T00:14:00.000-08:00

Community theatre brings up mental images of "has beens" thinking they are "are's" Those (in my case) that snatched leading roles in that grand thing we call high school theatre and were bound for the stage college-ward and inevitably Broadway. And instead, somehow end up on a creaky, wooden floor in a a make-shift stage, an undercroft of St. Andrew's Episcopal Church. Tracing the pattern of what took me from such aspirations to the same hole were sort of similar to my route trying to get tho the place. Sure, I've been there 68 times before but surprise, surprise, I got a little turned around trying to find I-5 Northbound. After a saving grace call to Eli I made it to the show with ten minutes to spare. I'm meeting Clinton at The Bert Mann Theatre for the NorthEnd Players rendition of "Heaven Can Wait." On facebook last night's opening performance was all abuzz as the granddaughter of the original playwright was in attendance with the Oscar in hand. I get to make a "cameo" as a former NorthEnd player walking across the stage. Oh the glory. A feeling of homeostasis fills me as I am ushered backstage. Tape outlines on the prop table, a little white dog, Mitzi, greets me, friends faces illuminate to see me. I delight seeing them in suspenders, low-cut house wife dresses, netted hats. Many I don't know share positive energy with me, smiling and weaving in a rushed, soft shoe manner so as not to break the illusion of folks back stage. "How are the babies?" "Are they here tonight?" "When are you due?"
I smile thinking of the t-shirts Shannon Tappana and I swore we'd get around to making-"Drama is life, the rest is just details" we were so much more intelligent and classier because we snatched this ever so unoriginal quote from bonehead sports motif shirts with full knowledge of the irony. Or so we thought. That cave of a theatre at Sohi with its secret staircases, inner ceiling passages only trespassible by those Mission Impossible minded preferably wearing camouflage, carrying Snapple lids for Morse code communication once in the asbestos abyss. There's a magic having blinding lights shine upon you opening night and being unable to see the faces beneath but feeling their heavy presence. Maybe its what it feels like to be blind. A text in a softbound script. Your very own script. The more warped and notated it becomes the more legitimate its life. Warmth surrounds me when I think of the actors who opened their hearts with me. Together we learned who we were and how we fit together in this little old world. When I flubbed the line announcing the murderer the dazzling Delores Biggs announces her instead, you learn how to compensate, to keep dignity to the underlying message. An energy is shared, a family you become. Helping each other with make-up, using Cassie's hair powder for a definite age increaser was a good bet, suggesting costume options-vetoing the vinyl coat choice, laughing, backstage pranks. Attacked with the smell of rotting tuna from the heater chambers we retaliate as Women (hear us roar) snatching the boys clothing and replacing with women's undergarments. Developing camaraderie with folks you probably wouldn't have become friends with without the stage. Feeling an inkling of what it means to love vicariously through characters you nurture. Truth, whatever that is, is unveiled. It is some kind of visceral resonance that makes you feel a little more whole. Spinning in a blue velvet stage curtain you feel mischievous, royal and a seeker of life. The actor with a Jewish last name probably in his nineties whose credits mention New York City community theatre (where I imagine the competition was a little more fierce) is vibrant and delightful. Ms. Thompson is radiant in her bad girl role. The ingenue whose credits mentioned she was 18 (I would have sworn she was 40) was not your typical pretty face and evoked anything but innocence and youth nor did her immature acting but I was touched to read in the program of her other bit parts in plays and her delight in playing this role. "Her favorite thus far." That's what's so great about it. In community theatre, everybody gets a chance to be something they likely never get a chance to be in life or in stage. The journey she made probably meant the world to her. And the lead male-should have been cut and muscular since he was a boxer and in nothing but skin and shorts much of the show-instead had no tone, much excess and rocked back and forth on his feet incessantly. Enough to convince me he was battling The Rain Man's disease but just had a case of nerves. The messenger with his great, carrying theatrical voice and presence and the maid who was hauntingly similar to the last role I had seen her in are all up there together, mixing it all up to create something a little broken, sort of disjointed, sometimes stirring, timing ok and timing slow, energy vibrant but heart 100%.

Multnomah Park Cemetary

2010-02-26T22:33:00.000-08:00

Man with hands in pockets. Plaid shirt tucked in.
Wife, neat brunette circles gravestone.
Solemn cemetery next to chaotic 82nd Avenue.
For whom do they nod their heads? A recent loss.
Dressed respectfully, just exited a chapel.
Outside the steel Woman simply walks,
gregariously, with jutting, angular hip bones like beckoning sirens.
Eighties style hair flagging attention by passerbys.
A dead-ringer for Alec Baldwin's girlfriend in Miami Blues.
Shirt with cut-off sleeves, the loose part tied in a slipknot revealing her thin curves.
Straight ahead she looks, confident.
Prostitute discerning nothing of middle class aunts deceased from breast cancer.
Business professional weighing nothing of the fear of force and disease.
My young family driving 35 miles per hour with Bruce Springsteen prophesying, "Don't know when this chance might come again. If we could get skin to skin"
They pass in moments, trailers of my thoughts. I stare, paralyzed by music and reality.
The weight causes visceral angst. I inhale, blink to clear the buzz and ask the kids,
"Should we get juice boxes for our picnic?"

A moment to smile about.

2010-02-25T20:33:00.000-08:00

Our family went to Baja Fresh for dinner this evening. Walking to the entrance I was 5 steps ahead of the crew. I looked at them with Dad keeping them close. Wow. It just hit me. We have a big family. A big, cute family. Little blond bobkins smiling, giggling and being silly.

The zoo with my girls.

2010-02-24T21:35:00.000-08:00

Dropped Eli off at the studio, called a couple friends to see if anyone could play and no one could...in route home I scanned the zoo exit. We haven't gone in months and that annual pass is wasting like a melting ice cream cone. I switched lanes and we went for it. No stroller, no shoes for Rainbow (good thing I am a strapping young lassie)thin jackets, chance of showers, no snacks-life shouldn't revolve around these things now should it?! The girls were pleased at this change of plans. Rainbow was enjoying the thrill of graduating to a big girl carseat-view of the fast cars and forward facing-wow, what a life- and would have been content driving into the sunset eternally but whatever, she trusted ole ma. Anna proudly presented the tickets like she was presenting a diploma. The mountain goat was in full view. We took the Northwest bridge trail, Anna had a great lickety-split pace in mind...once she's seen it, she'd seen it and would let me know (kindly of course). The fish were babies to Rainbow, frogs infants, miners cats...babies, chickens, sheep, pigs-you guessed it...babies all around. In the farm area the pigs were preoccupied gobbling hay. Rainbow lobbed her arms around the wooden fence and wouldn't let go watching those creatures the same way Fern adored Wilbur. Gentle Anna trying to keep her pace up tried to cajole Rainbow into hope for the future animals we would see. The present was good enough for her. Feeling somewhat like a kidnapper I peeled her little paws off the fence and we moved on. The results are in-unanimously, the warthogs are ugly (although still babies), Rainbow will make a wonderful goddess some day seeing the beauty in all creatures great and small. The highlight of the warm small African creature are was Adrianna taking the role of my mom, her name was Jasmine. And I, was the teenager despite the fact that she was the one on the phone (a.k.a. informative tour listening device)the most. An hour holding sweet little Color Streak in my arms and I was about finished. Intuitively, Adrianna said she was hungry for lunch and wanted to go home. On the trail towards the exit a zookeeper was feeding apples to the hippopotamus's! I've never seen more than their eyeballs poking out of the water but they came up front and center for those sweet treats. We saw their teeth (what an odd mouthful I must say, none of them seemed to match up like most animal teeth do) and one lugged its huge body out of the water after a wandering apple. Walking, walking all the way to the car. I asked Adrianna what she liked. She reported many wondrous things but was equally anticipating the lunch of mac and cheese at home (which she assured me she would help with).

I love Eli.

2010-02-23T00:06:00.000-08:00

I love this man. Right now he's mixing or recording his album at 12:08 a.m. and I am sure, still going strong. It's anything but easy for all of us to dream and to hope this music will be heard and will lift people near and far. The dreaming, ok it is easy but the day to day give required, not so much. We have to do things that we don't like, things that others raise their eyebrows at. Conventionality and revolution don't go hand in hand. For a moment today I wanted all the strife to dissipate and at that moment Eli looked into my eyes with hope and love, radiating optimism into my heart. His sheepish smile caught when he was laughing makes me extra happy. I love him. I love him. And he's mine, all mine.

Baby.

2010-02-22T21:29:00.000-08:00

Sheesh. Monday makes my insides scrambled eggs. My outsides aren't doing much better. Saturday I was "shopped" by an apartment hunter spy and as usual I failed miserably. The shopper noted "my ripped, stained sweatshirt" which I am still wearing today-pretty much out of spite. There is so space on the superiors side for apologies, excuses or retaliations but rest assured I have come up with a list for myself. Even if my excuses were valid which they are not they are pathetic because the bottom line is, I have never had a great shop, many horrendous shops and you know what? I won't change. They affect me. They make me cry and feel worthless but not enough to spark change. I am not the sort to be effectively charged by the coach who yells at his athletes to motivate them. No, I need to be coddled along, loved and sincerely cherished to get results. The apartment complex is full so naturally I feel no sense of urgency to make an insistent shopper who MUST have a tour despite the fact that I have nothing for her....lose points. She desperately wanted to use my bathroom but I told her one was not available-primarily because my personal bathroom was filthy, the trail from office to bathroom through my gross house-even worse. The kids had been sick that day. I threw up earlier in the day and would have called this woman to cancel yet I had not taken her phone number as I should have. So when I found she was shopping me I thanked my lucky twinkling stars I had that one bit of foresight. She asked me weird probes-she said she and her husband managed apartments and she hated it...trying to get me to open up about my contempt it seemed. Luckily, something inside me stopped me from agreeing. Most of my errors are ones I know I am no good at and ought correct but don't but a whopping 58% is nothing to brag about. Lady, Mr. Head Honchos, anyone who read my stupid shop...this is what I have to say. This woman does the best she can. She hates being paid dirt for babysitting, dealing with maintenance way beyond control and skinny budgets that don't allow remediation, she's anything but detail-oriented and that's a cryin' shame when it comes to this business, would rather be free to go to the park with my sweet angels who are growing faster than I can say, "green eggs and ham", she dreads that ringing phone, has nightmares about the mold creeping through the walls, panic attacks when somebody else's car is towed...But then again-I have these favelas all rented, have made progress with maintenance (Must say Eli has shocked and amazed me at his construction abilities when he has the time), some residents-the nice ones even call my supervisor saying we're awesome. No mention of that on a shop, huh. I know it's not the end of the world but it still stirs me up like a vitamina on a hot, Brazilian day.
So after that cheerful news I couldn't take another breath of my Apartment To Do List today. After the bank deposits, posting a note on a door, making vital emails the rest is waiting until tomorrow. After coming home from a dr appointment, where I even felt like the dr hated me (yes, I am aware the problems in my head run deep) and the bank Eli was setting Adrianna and Rainbow up with peanut butter and jelly. Anna wanted to be her own chef. I picked up, kissed Eli and he was on his way to the studio. Album release scheduled April 3rd, the pressure is on. The girls-so happy to see Momma. Rainbow donning brown shoes Moses and Anna both wore for the first time. After lunch she showed me what hot stuff she was tromping around in those things. Anna set up the doll house to play with me. I lasted for a little while. There was a ball, three clothing changes, a nighttime, a birthday party, a Prince Charming choosing his bride line-up style (he chose the prettiest, blond fluffy-haired one of course) And then imported the clean laundry basket folding clothes while still paying semi-attention to the game. Anna was on to me pretty quick but was quite understanding. Rainbow the little dreamer napped. We checked the mail, packed the junkmail in Adrianna's pack strapped to her back and played outside. I was Storm, she was Jean Gray. It was high pursuit interjected by a horrendous cough. I think she needs the doctor tomorrow. All the while playing outside Anna is luminous and imaginative, like the foam on the sea, bright and inviting. Carefree and full of life her ideas keep coming. Rainbow joins us and echos Adrianna's conversation, climbs up and down stairs, giggles at us when she climbs into a chair (how daring!). Outside is definitely Rainbow's new thing. When the kids get home we greet them off the bus. Rainbow calls, "Sunny!" (her universal call for all siblings) Sums them all up rather well, I admit. Moses doesn't get a breath in before telling me about the sort-of-moon-rock in his backpack, he played with Jaeden and Joshua today...Sunny's eyes are glued to a book. She sits on the grass reading. We'll talk later. The bright idea comes to go swimming. We find the suits, the fitness center card, towels, the stroller and we are off. Sunny day walk there but the pool is at capacity. No fear! We choose the playground instead. This proves to conventional for these wolves-Sunny leads the lion and mouse towards sawdust hills and wooded ivy in the back. Rainbow is enraptured by a dog. Five month old coyote-German shepherd mix named Lily who is friendly as a button (if buttons were friendly) She calls this dog "baby, baby, baby, baby...." Likely she yearned for "baby" 500+ times. Not even the kisses shocked her. She smiled, cooed and ogled as if it were her baby. We walked from the kids and their morphing game of Moses the prophet and his pals back and forth twenty times as this baby couldn't get enough of "baby." We saw geese in the sky, a small bird in the tree-all were "baby" . Runny noses, dirt, sawdust grit-they wore it well. Might as well have been diamond studdings and fine robes. These kids looked alive and loved by this good earth and its maker. We went home feeling a-ok about our places in the world. Thanks, kids for reminding your Momma things aren't so bad.

Adrianna and Rainbow

2010-01-22T14:07:00.000-08:00

ballet class for Anna

2010-01-21T18:12:00.000-08:00

Brand new ballet slippers, little pale pink blochs in hand, pink leotard and tights underneath her skirt Adrianna has been anticipating her first day of ballet class since we signed up. We pull up to the studio and suddenly a surprising stage fright sets in. "Wahhhhh! I don't want to go to ballet. I am not going!" It would be lovely to say I hadn't bribed her or threatened her after this natural outburst but it would be quite dishonest. I pulled out all the stops but she wasn't going to budge and her runny nose was dripping more and more as the sobbing ensued. In the hallway we peeked in the window. I pointed out how nice the teacher looked, how bright and beautiful the room was, the stars on the walls, all the mirrors. Didn't look too appealing to her. A dad tried to reassure her teacher Valerie was really nice. Adrianna didn't think so. It was looking quite promising that "Ballet, where dreams come true ages 3-5" wasn't the most accurate dance class description. Miss Valerie gave her ok for me to participate with vulnerable little ruddy faced Anna. The girls all circled in the center, feet touching. They were mermaids pointing and flexing their fins. Attention was drawn to their unscuffed ballet slippers in varying shades of baby skin. The big girls tuck the bows in their shoes. They were flowers stretching and blossoming. Learning names Leah, Andrea, Yu, Ariana, my "Anna" the corners of Anna's eyes showed signs of trust and hope again. The teacher told the girls this class was special because at the end they would get to dance in a recital, on stage, in a costume! Back to center first position is taught, make a piece of pizza with your feet and arms like a basketball. I remember my first teachers, Miss Cindy and Miss Teresa and the tricks I still think of today. Stretching, feet together feet are two pieces of bread wide open. Reach for the peanut butter far in the cupboard, stretch to the fridge for the jam, reach for the knife and open the jars, spread the pb&j and eat your peanut butter and jelly foot sandwich! The class gets to dance with scarves-oh the elegance. Tinkerbell inspired music according to Adrianna. She catches a pleasing glimpse of herself in the mirror. The music freezes cuing return to first position (arms and feet)-or chicken wing arms in my girl's case. Stand on a blue spot, not the first, not the second identical blue spot...the third spot seems to do rather well. Sunshine arms, airplane arms, hook arms and fairy wing and princess tiaras-oh how ballet class improves. With a smile on her face and a vow to tell Daddy she liked it she plans to return next week.

Ellipses

2010-01-20T22:41:00.000-08:00

20 minutes was the goal on the dreaded elliptical. Usually my 20 minute commitments quickly get downgrade justification to 5 or 7 minutes. That is a long duration of time on one of those things. Every step counted. Intense. Yes, I disappoint myself an awful lot in the gym. A trend is forming. Today was the first time a non-family member asked me if I was pregnant. It was a twisted assurance to me that its apparent; wow my self-conscious level soars when great with child. Four minutes go by. I think of what weighs my soul most heavily. I think if I keep taking steps, if I keep forcing my weight into the next stride a clarity will come. A direction to follow. Maybe I can build enough strength within to charge those who need this energy to thrive. "And I think its gonna be a long, long time. " And I am burning my fuse, I know I am not the woman they think. It's just me and Elton John one step at a time saving the world. The chin-up assist machine, what a machine for a girl never in her life able to do a chin-up. Presidential fitness tests, who needs them? Not I, I've got my own new found reasons to believe in the future. If I lift my weight I prove to myself I can lift another. That 20 minutes became 22 minutes. Little victories.

Belly dance Intermediate

2010-01-19T22:28:00.001-08:00

7:30 class is in session. Slight panic thinking my class might be this one. No, confirming the schedule book mine's 8:30. Silence ensues until a nine year old boy whose mother and sister are in class asks me if I'd like a balloon. An origami balloon. He tells me about his affinity for building model rockets (from scratch), last summer's church camp, spending summers with Grandma and Grandpa. He makes two more Origami balloons for each of my kids (the ones that won't eat them) and recommends the Rice, Rocks and Minerals museum if I am the sort interested in Geology. Last time he was there he bought two geodes for $75. Don't miss the huge meteorite. Through the window concentration and isolation peers in the mirror. A woman with countless bone spurs and arthritis of the foot and only a quarter of life left in this poor foot joins me in the hall not aware "belly" dance would have so much to do with the foot. The assistant checks on her like a friendly cheerleader suggesting certain dance shoes or braces for support but with tears welling the woman feels belly dancing isn't the choice for her body. I know the feeling in an all different way. Carla, the senior teacher gives her hope saying the mind will get it if you merely stand and listen to the music and learn it internally. Carla looks like a truck driver maven in black, a dangling scarf from her burgundy tinted spiral permed hair adds to my first impression that she tells fortunes at her day job. The low cut V-neck black spandex top hugs a beer belly, her midriff adorned with turquoise blossoms, gold sequined stems, gold tassels and bead-work. The origami creator assured me I would like the teacher. She's nice.
I found myself in a commonly found place: out of place- with my modest workout attire, serious face and awkward steps only informed by ballet intellect and free spirit disobedience around the floor trying to play off the very noticeable fact that I didn't already know Tiffany who danced last Thursday at Marrakesh or that I didn't know the 14 year old Asian girl's mother who wasn't in class today. But her foot is doing much better. The results of "Our Girls" at the Tacoma competition alluded me. The alternative section...Adi rah took the cake...there's something about our girls and mastery of the alternative...tee hee hee. Surrounding every woman had some sort of costume addition proving she was official as a belly dancer. The loose skinned abdominal woman's orange beaded sash sagged until she began her shimmy. A repositioning occurs as she tucks the skin into her spine bringing out a beauty I'd overlooked. Maybe all women folk ought walk around town hip circling and body cameling. A whole new benchmark aesthetic arises. The upbeat drum tempo drives the Shakire with the 6/8 tempo cuing a shoulder roll followed by staccato isolation's popping through the body like popcorn. "Time to get out your veils ladies." Not having nor even knowing what a veil is I paw around feigning to take the pause to practice my right hip isolations with a careful lift of my heel. A woman called my bluff and asked if I needed to borrow a veil. The silk scape in melted butter yellow convinced me for a moment even I was official in the calling of belly dancer. Three steps and letting go of the veil, catching it taking two more steps so the veil's end is underfoot, lifting it coyly to the face to give the appearance of genie in a bottle, twisting and twirling-whether there was a wrong or right less noticeable with this luxurious prop. Agra bah, there is hope yet.

Luminescent Prayer

2010-01-12T21:13:00.000-08:00

We are all circled for nighttime prayer. Eli reminds all to show Rainbow what to do. She's normally asleep at 9:00 but seemed to have a little nightmare. She has been beaming ever since, dimple in full force and overjoyed at the circumference around her. She pauses seeing everyone still and somber. Such airs usually precede an equal and opposite reaction. She tries to one up us and cracks with a sneaky yawp and gleeful laugh. Eli begins to pray. Our little color stream mellows momentarily and then toddles on her sea legs planting her pillowy bum on Sunny's lap-but just for a second. We pass a giggle like a hot potato. Eli's reverences are interrupted by squeals and guffaws. Then I join in. There she is Little Miss Toddle Along knowing she's the star of the show. For dramatic effect she stops by Moses and folds her arms just like him. His Grover laugh melts right out. Eli amends what I think his original intent of the prayer was and thanks for the fun we have together.

The neighbor boy and a pair of roller blades

2010-01-11T20:56:00.000-08:00

Tan pants sideswiped with yin yang mud, my girl, vim and vinegar: vim tips the balance. From the last spill, blackened socks like Cajun pepper sweep by in roller blades. Creamy hands, small and smooth melting into grits in the hands of a dirty, rowdy, pale-faced ruddy neighbor boy who only has only one volume. Like a Letterman's jacket and class ring, she's wearing his roller blades and helmet- he's teaching the novice the trick of glide. They spin by home to show Mom and Dad the fun. Oh, she's never smiled so wide before. A million giddy moments motivated by boys in my youth flash through my mind quicker than a pot of gumbo disappearing into the bellies of famished fisherman. Slipping in the mud of the Kasilof River bank with the Carlson crew painted with gray silt looking like voodoo nightmares but innocent as first act Scarlett O' Hara playing coquettish games of tag, truth or dare the glee of summer romance plows through my mind like a bounteous cotton harvest. Pressing the breaks of my Dad's Toyota 4-Runner with the orange snow sled instead of a fender, scratched with memories of fishing with Dad, the worn Fats Domino cassette tape as much a part of this vehicle as its whistling engine I hail Maggie down, hop from the driver's seat and by golly jumping Jehoshaphat tell her the news I can't keep inside-John just kissed me! Oh, to be in love with a red-headed marine 6 years my senior. The closest thing I'd come to a sage of the sea.
Sunny Carolina, a good southern belle name if I ever heard one laughs with head tipped back and eyes shining like the Ozark River. Sub par, runny nosed buzz cut buddy who's Halloween costume was Dracula chortles an uneven cadence. Obviously quite pleased this debutante finds him to be the most engaging gent of the day. The rogue stranger that turned the noses up of girls who graze cherry tomatoes and carrot sticks at a church stake youth dance turns his old fashioned charm on...in retrospect, identifiable as girl crazy 18 year old fire- stretching his hand toward me. Stuffing the remainder of a chocolate chip doused brownie I take his hand. Jubilantly he leads me on the dance floor with confidence and what I define at the age 16 as sheer manliness. A quick sweep through the floor we runaway to the Primary room where he teaches me the grandest of moves from "Dirty Dancing" complete with the sly, inside of the arm glide transforming into a kiss. Baby, we've got it good. Totally worth being reprimanded by Sister Western for Book of Mormon distance breach.
The yellow four runner being manned by less than man, highly accomplished drummer using his steering wheel and dashboard as a substitute for a drum kit, my date to the upcoming junior prom in two weeks honks for arrival. Going to the movies. My father and mother appalled by his honk and perhaps more disappointed in my skirting to his call like a swine to the suey call.
I ask the little southern belle if she'd like a sweater. Her "Save the Earth" t-shirt mimics her unrestrainable passion for all things great and beautiful. She's living full like eagle soaring o'er the ocean on her t-shirt. Of course she doesn't want a sweater, she's too hot, of course. I smile, knowingly. Besides, would this soul-dampened momma want one more item to wash? My momma comes to mind, her endless questions of what I had done with my friends, with whom I danced with, what part in the play I hoped for remind me of precisely the details I long to know about sweet Sunny Carolina's little escapade with this boy my momma would surely shake her head at.

The Weekend Warrior

2010-01-09T21:11:00.000-08:00

An orange swimsuit stretched a little snug around the mid section of a woman in her late twenties. She's untypically self-conscious of this physique-questioning whether others can tell she is pregnant or is that just a little belly. Yes, folks...hers is a terrible plight to bare, for a few months in her life she has to carry this burden. It is likely appropriate to slap her now. And please, let it be a healthy, curvaceous, non-Hollywood stick sort of person who does so. It will be a victory for Marilyn Monroe's (in spirit and form) everywhere. She arrives on the pool deck a few minutes early. Accustomed to lap swimming, competitive strokes and a striving of some semblance of speed in her exercise routines she feels out of her element this Saturday afternoon. The class is titled, "Weekend Warrior" It promises mid to high level intensity which gave her the confidence to try this class assuming that would likely weed out the blue haired, helmet permed water aerobics over 70's crowd. She was wrong. Black skirts and wrinkles like a mapped river pattern on loose, elephant skin abound. Cellulite distributes itself with no particular goal in mind. Some are sweet couples; a man assists his wife into the water. Folks buckle their foam belts around their middles. Foam "weights" are distributed, noodles are chosen, fin-hand gloves pulled into place. Gear suitable for a voyage to the moon. No instructor in view the orange belly enters the deep end and treads water. Confidently pulling a few strokes of water to position herself in an area away from the crowds. Not sure what the deal was-it seemed to be more of a self-service class she begins treading water and varying the pulls to manipulate her body for optimal fitness results. Running in place forward proved odd so she tries on the stylish belts. She decides against it as it suddenly made her feel weightless and required nearly zero in resistance. Wondering whether correct form circumvents a harder workout and heart-rate increase she assumes treading solo is best for her. Then a guy, early twenties enters the pool. He begins to teach, calling the crew inward. The alternating touch the inside of your foot thing was killer. A strange sense of oppression from the water resistance around the impending belly felt awkward. Finding herself scooting in the water without intended direction she chose to remain in the deep end but tread closer to the teacher. To her left a group of women surrounding a gent, "You're back Carla! How is your daughter?" "Oh fine. It was quite a trip. Glad to finally be home. My son-in-law thought one of us would eat each other's heads off." "Ohh, hoo, ha, ha!" And to the right, "I was trying to describe Christianity to a Chinese friend and....she didn't understand...all those people..." Alternating airborne sidekicks empowered her, liberating her enough to toss her goggles to the deck like a bra in the seventies. Just as she began to feel a rhythm a pear shaped woman with eyes like olives and lips lips like one cherry tomatoes (it seemed the pregnant woman was getting hungry) rather abruptly told her she was in the way. Apparently this section was for those wanting to "run" back and forth, and for that only. Never mind the Public Pool dogma nor the senior flirting to the north of this incident, nor the fact that even this woman had likely made it "across" likely three times in 20 minutes time, oh and pray tell, surely one mustn't consider this waif like orange woman's efforts to naturally attempt to navigate away from the crowd nor her attempts to achieve a heightened heart-rate just like the dear fruit salad woman. Surely, surely it would be best to show the naive newcomer (certain now that this belly was perceived as a months worth of double donut days) that territory is territory. Others could sense her discomfort and kindly told the late twenties orange orchid all was well, the salad lady was always like that. She felt buoyed by a community of strangers and tried to pay the fruit arrangement no mind. Pulling herself up for arm and chest strength in repetition she thought of building self up and tearing self down. Asserting ones' self kindly but having the audacity and self worth to stick to her guns. This woman in the orange swimsuit pulled herself out of the pool striving next time to be a resilient dandelion rather than a fragile tulip.

A little miracle

2010-01-03T21:52:00.001-08:00

Sunny Carolina had an upset stomach this evening. She spent some time in the ladies room expecting to throw up but instead just felt horrible. We thought of all she had eaten tonight-nothing seemed too likely of a culprit nor could we think of anyone we were aware of that she has played with that has been ill but of course you can't always track flu bugs easily. During the hour or so of anguish I told her I loved her and felt sad that she didn't feel well. We talked about how it takes getting sick to make you appreciate being well and I asked her if she would like Daddy to give her a Priesthood blessing for the healing of the sick. She nodded emphatically. I had just listened to Eli's most recent recording of "Ascension" he was making a "few more"(the endless 'few more'-which is why it is sounding so top notch) amendments when I peeked in on him to let him know of his sweet daughter's request. He said "Of course" . He reminded her of the connection between faith and our Father's desire to help us. I told her sometimes the Lord comforts us and helps us get through sickness and sometimes he blesses us with healing the ailment we are suffering from. Her hair angled down framing her hopeful face. I could see her desire to do what is right and to commune with our Father. She really desired to be healed and was ready to show her faith. The blessing gave me peace and I know it gave her confidence. Eli carried her to bed-I brought the just-in-case-bucket and her little white teddy bear from Grandma and Grandpa Christenson from Christmas and put them beside her. Eli told her he remembered a couple years ago giving her a blessing and her faith helped heal her. He told her he knew she had the faith tonight to be healed. A few minutes later I checked on her to see how she was doing. She told me, "better, my throat feels a little funny but not my tummy." And just a few minutes later she trotted from her bed with a glowing aura and said, "Mommy, I am completely better. I don't feel sick at all." She hugged me for a long time and I told her I was happy she had such faith and I knew Heavenly Father was happy with her too." Her earthly and heavenly fathers love her very much. She is a special treasure.

Maid for Hire.

2010-01-01T21:10:00.000-08:00

When she pulls out her white shortalls, I know the girl means business. Helping Momma Business. That, and add the hippy floral apron Momma Milliman gave me for painting and all she needs is an assignment. If I don't give her one, she gives herself one-usually the bathrooms, which yes, is good but sometimes I would just rather do that task myself. Kitchen Aid mixing bowl in hand (a remarkable, shiny water/cleaning solution receptacle I might add, too much soap, 1/2 inch of water on the kitchen floor and 20 minutes later we have a polished kitchen floor. Thanks Carolina.

New Year 2010

2009-12-31T23:26:00.000-08:00

Eli turned Roy Orbison on, invited all to come dance and the wild rumpus began. Anna spinned and twirled with her pinky in my palm, her Easter colored skirt flowing out just the way a proper skirt should when you dance. She moved always with grace and beauty on her mind. A perfect spin accentuated her blushing, tired cheeks. She reminded me of a tulip, just a sleepy one. Wow, Rainbow was blown away by the amount of energy created by four blossoming kids and two blooming parents. Joy was her middle name. Eli held her little hands and she danced-occasionally moving her head side to side to stir things up. But the laughter was what couldn't be stopped. That dimple of hers worked overtime tonight. On a solo step she supported herself on the cedar chest my Dad made for me...When the musical climax reached its point she balanced herself-raised her hands as high as they could go-wrapped her hands around the top of her head-and fake fainted on the ground and laughed and smiled. What a performance. Sunny suggested the next song be judged, leave it to the oldest to keep status and achievement at the forefront. So I sat out and wrote out points and took notes on all their fantastic moves:
Sunny-rhythmic stomps (5 points), stop and spin to ground (7 points-it was impressive, an amalgamation of hip hop and Sunny Carolina and the Tin Man), 2 points awarded for great use of the entire body in dancing. Moses-props for led kicks, a cool style, great improvisational skills, a smattering of martial art technique, leaps, and a smile-also proficient use of the whole body. Anna's tally: points awarded for soft, pretty balance, graceful movements, spins (to die for), poise and charm-believe in her story and beauty above all. Surprisingly (remember the mother was judge) all dancers received the exact same score (gasp!). Monumental-never before has a competition been this engaging! The dance session was interrupted by a dart gun fight. Who would have guessed Scott Summers and Optimus Prime were up for the battle of the century January 31, 2009. Watch out 2010. Jean Gray (or Storm...Adrianna insists she is both of these marvelous characters at any particular moment) was "asleep" on the couch. It seemed the battle may have been over her. So the fun was paused for an announcement from Dad. He just wanted all to know the reason we were dancing was that 10 years ago, at just about this time a handsome prince and a beautiful princess met. They, too were dancing (althought not yet together)The princess fell in love. (He left out for the story's sake that at that time the prince hadn't yet fallen in love with the princess...) They all groaned and giggled and just knew who the prince and princess were. They of course were right. Adrianna had an important question: "Mom, did you have long hair when you got married?" Heaven knows long hair is a prerequisite for happily ever after princesses. Phew, the answer was yes. Today I find myself looking disturbingly like Prince Valiant. Good thing we met ten years ago. Blessed we are to have a mere ten years passing result in all the joy and wonder we have. A houseful of giggly, blond angels, a love stronger than ever and hope for the future together.

First Steps.

2009-12-20T21:27:00.000-08:00

Sunday is Rainbow's extra special day with Daddy. He's always there for her but on Sunday their devotion runs deeper. Right now church begins at 11:00-an interruption to a sweet dreamer's nap. Around 11:30 the gal can't hold out any longer so Eli takes her into the hallway and cradles her in his arms. Sometimes the lady protesteth much but usually it all ends in hums and songs and then sleep-often for the both of them-Eli claims he may occasionally nod his eyes but likely not for more than a few seconds. Although, from several witnesses at church commenting to me on the sweet site they see of Daddy and daughter together sleeping-I suspect he might be wrong. Eli brings Rainbow with him to Elders Quorum because quite frankly she would just rather be with him. Today Eli tried leaving her with me and apparently he missed the girl and found himself peeking in on us through the window, initially unbeknown st to us-but then Rainbow spotted him. I knew from her loud chirps and brightened eyes, "Dada! Daddy! Dada! Daddy, Daddy!" Her calls become more persistent and darn right insistent to the point that Eli couldn't resist. He came in and swept her from my arms. She was quite pleased. Oh, by the way, Miss Daddy's girl took her first steps today. Where did those fancy steps take her might you ask? To Daddy, naturally.

Shocking.

2009-12-16T22:15:00.000-08:00

We began watching The Sound of Music, my favorite musical of all time this evening. My kids have never seen it before. As it began they quickly caught on the Maria's vagabond spirit. Carolina thought the convent chanting was in honor of the dead. I found that observation very acute. Definitely feels more like that than maybe the Southern Baptist joyful-joyful. They thought the other nuns were mean for noticing Maria's failings in a nunnery match up. Moses, introspective as ever commented after Maria sang "The Hills Are Alive" trepassing through the mountains in all their splendor and the nuns were singing "How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?" that, "Maria is like, uh...electricity...it goes everywhere."

Moses loses his first tooth.

2009-12-14T21:12:00.001-08:00

Moses wanted me to buy brussel sprouts at the store. Our dinner was macaroni and cheese, little smokies and those brussel sprouts. Rainbow expressed her contempt by depositing the sausages on the floor. She didn't know what to do with the "litttle cabbages." Carolina complained a tad but ate them. Moses was excited, began eating and complained his tooth was hurting from eating them. I rolled my eyes as he and Adrianna bantered their reasons of abstaining. Moses took my attitude for a directive that he'd better eat them. He chewed and then burst into tears. Impatiently, I asked him "What is your problem." He sobbed and said, "My tooth hurts!" And then I realized the crimson tinge couldn't be brussel sprouts. Those things dislodged that tooth of his. I told him his tooth had fallen out and his tears morphed into a joyful giggle. He rinsed his mouth and plotted all he would do, "Tell Mrs. Hunter, tell Joshua, and Jaden...and put it under my pillow, drink from a straw with the hole in my mouth!" The possibilities are endless. Miss Jaded Carolina was swift to inform her naive brother the Tooth Fairy was not real. She tried to help by having Moses leave the room and extracting his tooth herself from underneath his pillow and planting a nice, shiny quarter. Moses wants to believe and so I ruined her good intentions. Mr. Moses is growing up.

A day at school.

2009-12-14T21:11:00.001-08:00

A trip to school.

Publishing Party in Sunny's class today! Parents were invited, Eli thinks the reason I took the opportunity surrounded the donuts and fruit punch. Had he have gone he would swiftly realized this highlight paled in comparison to a certain young lady, Miss Sunny Carolina and her presentation of her narrative story, I quoth "One sunny day I was going fishing with my Dad. I caught a really big fish. We were just about to leave when I noticed something. That's when I saw it. An island!(which she pronounced 'is-land') I was so excited that I nearly fell out of the boat. My Dad swung his arm at me. He pulled me into the boat and I pointed at the is-land. He nodded his head and turned the boat around. As soon as we were on dry land I picked up my gear and began to fish again. The end." Quite a rousing performance. She pointed out some of her friends, Claudia, Victoria, a boy went on and on thankful that he had an audience about his parents being from Europe-Bulgaria. He told me the story his grandmother told him of how the Americas were discovered, they thought it was Asia, etc, and etc, of how he went to Bulgaria when he was four. She beamed and smiled a pleased, shy smile and politely applauded her peers as they took their turns reading. Sunny took part in cleaning of the tables in preparation for the event-even sacrificing a recess for the cause, noting to me that she even cleaned Cecilia's spot-the messiest of all. Her efforts did not go unnoticed. The room had "Publishing Party" signs and a great appearance. It was a great event.
Before, I stopped into Moses' class to return the loaner bear, Taffy so another friend could take it home. He forgot to take it back yesterday. Taffy has a journal each child writes about what he does the whole evening with his buddy. Moses was coloring a "Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear Turn Around" book when I stopped in-so excited to see me and to give me a hug. Apparently, this was the 'best day ever' largely in part to my grand appearance. Way to make a mom feel like a million bucks, Moses.

A trip to school.

2009-12-11T16:57:00.000-08:00

Goddess of Love and Beauty

2009-10-27T20:57:00.000-07:00

I love my little girl who is not so little anymore. She has wanted my help in detailing a Halloween costume. She's got a great getup basket of costume items with sashes, scarfs, dresses and you name it that i am constantly sifting through and eliminating things from(and constantly being called on my actions, "Do you know what happened to my cat mask...It would have been perfect for "Kitty Pride" (the X Men girl, I guess). She tried a variety of things. We brainstormed characters she likes, books she likes..Jean Gray, Matilda? Ramona? (She kaboshed that one indicating she didn't want to be a pest), Word Girl? And then out came the mother load of brainstorm resources. Her heavy volume of Greek Gods and Goddesses. She devours these morbid twisted tales of husbands eating wives and children sentenced to the underworld, it is worse than Daytime Soaps for SAHM's. She begins to browse through the wealth of long, prism haired maidens, topless mermaid waifs (desiring some in the modesty category) and sees on the cover one of her personal favorites, Aphrodite. She fingers through the pages until she finds a story with Aphrodite in it. Inspired by a gossamery, light reflecting gown she begins to create a costume. A bright, dark blue dress of mine is the foundation.. A tulle pink ballet skirt is tied into a shawl, looking a little like wings. We cut a piece from a gold curtain to make a skirt addition for some sparkle. A black veil as a headdress frames her pixie bob. On the way out of the house I told her to put socks on. She furrowed her eyebrows in distress but came back with Alaska socks (which she hoped no on would notice). I put some magenta lipstick on her and she asked if she could spray some perfume in her hair (Of course!). The kids paraded around the church gym for the trunk or treating activity. I stopped Carolina and whispered to her, "I think you have the best costume." Little Aphrodite floating amongst the princesses, Hannah Montana's and witches. She's an original, my girl.

The bus stop

2009-10-13T20:29:00.000-07:00

Like a vigilante, today I stopped the orange-yellow cheese, size of an elephant mobile-the school bus. Sunny took just a little too long getting ready this morning. In her zombie stupor each morning she insists she must be the one to pick out her outfit (why, oh why don't I insist the night before she make her choice, I am a masochist, that's why.) I tried giving her a variety of options, knowing full well she would not approve of any of them. Sensible long sleeve shirts, cute prints on all of them. Her stylish pants she's not into either, she prefers the Mahona sweat pants and comfy capris. Some one's got to teach this girl fashion is not about comfort. Ever heard of stiletto's? I saw the bus through the blinds called to Sunny and told her I had her backpack and encouraged her to high tail it out of there and forget the rest of teeth brushing. The bus driver paused and was about to give up since Sunny was not surfacing. I ran back to the door and fed her to the mouth of elephant cheese slice. Luckily for me I don't think this incident was anymore than a moment for her but I had flashbacks of what a bus means to me.
"Run, Forest, run!" "Run home to your mommy!" Familiar calls directed at me as I leaped off the bus running as hard and fast as Florence Joyner Kersee (remember those nails...see Sunny, fashion has its merits...fashion saves!) down the pebbly, dust-ridden hill-I wouldn't stop until I turned the corner, I triumphed every time. I high tailed it as quick as possible primarily to distance myself from those tobacco chewing, shorts-wearing in twenty below Alaskan winter weather teenage boys whom I had developed a healthy measure of contempt for. Then, there was each cold, dark morning walking to the bus stop, alone. Being the oldest by six years in my family I grew accustomed to solo so it was fine but waiting the 12-20 minutes at the bus stop was not on my top ten list of favored past times. Being a blindly obedient child my parents, sensibly told me to bundle up in such weather. And I certainly had proof the insulation made a difference: my winter attire reminds me of the brother and sister bears in Richard Scarry's "What People Do All Day"-each has every article of clothing imaginable including petticoat, rubbers, legwarmers, over coat, dust coat etc. My junior high get up warmly included light blue snow pants (suspender, zipper-type style), a neat invention of a polar fleece neck warmer, mittens (keeps your fingers warmer as the fingers each other to produce warmth-some kindergarten science for all), a warm, double lined Colombia jacket and a warm hat. The only problem, which isn't necessarily a problem, although if I find cause to hash it out 10+ years down the road... These pesky teenagers, all older than me would mock me to no end with my snow pants and my mommy and obviously how much better they were than me. Do not worry, oh, I showed them who was who-by day by day standing on the opposite side of the road from them. Social suicide complete. Another chapter on the yellow submarine: Clinton, my cub scout younger brother I was so proud of is going on his first Cub Scout Day Camp trip. And thanks to me, his last. He conceded to let me go with him kind of as a junior chaperone. I was excited to spend some fun, outdoor time with him. Archery, leather work, scavenger hunts, pond exploration, swimming (something we both enjoyed) all on the agenda. The change of the weather had brought on a cold for me so on the bus, in route to the lake campsite I retrieved a pre-used gnarled tissue from my jeans pocket. Gingerly unwrapping it like a lace doillie made by Aunt Louise I held my receptacle up to my nose and blow long and hard, three times I believe is what it took to empty the phlegmish substance from my nostrils. Glancing at Clinton I realized something. That a 15 year old sister focused on determining the most effective way to dislodge mucus from a most stubborn nostril is a hair away from the epitome of cool for your average nine year old who works hard on his image (he even trained his hair part to spread in the middle for a slick surfer look, all it took was two pinkies and plenty of repetition) Tragically, although I realized my thoughtlessness, I got so caught in the moment of how hilarious this was that my laughter bubbled over like bubble and squeak on some English dude's stovetop. I did not improve the situation. For the record, Clinton did not pursue scouting, leatherwork and lives in a box today. But hey, a man is his own agent, right? Can't sit around and blame your problems on everyone else. Still, maybe I better cool it with the bus hold ups if I want Sunny Carolina to have any chance at going to college.

Pronuncations and Perceptions

2009-09-18T22:36:00.001-07:00

Driving home from school today Eli asked Moses questions about his day. He has been struggling with recess and lunch time. Problems encountered with recess include loneliness, boredom and the hot sun. It's easy to see your problems magnified when their analyzed. He sulks in the shade and feels sad. Once Sunny showed up at his recess-unfortunatley this was because she lost track of time, didn't hear the bell ring and spent some time with Moses. This made his day. He reported he was so happy to see her but felt so sad when she had to go. He was all alone. Tears came in his eyes. Cafeteria dilemmas include: too many people, a general feeling of chaotic commotion and it doesn's smell good in there. He is his father's son. No Christenson in their right mind would turn their nose up at cafeteria food-we are the ones known to visit the town hospital to visit the "restaurant" there-and that is what we call a treat. Each day recess and lunch are the low points of his day. Then lunch and recess have to happen. Mrs. Hunter makes him feel safe and loved, there is organization and fun games to play. But today great things happened. Moses made friends with Angelo at recess. He is so funny and so crazy! They laugh and play fun games together and he had hot lunch for the first time and loved it: waffles, sausage and chocolate milk-maybe that makes the smell tolerable. Eli checked in with Carolina while she read her Box Car children book looking up to show us the 1/3 portion of the book she had already read. He asked her if she hads made any new friends. Silence. Asked again. "What?" She was busy reading, we dropped it. Walking to the park last night we reached the intersection where the kids are well trained (most of the time) to wait until slow Mommy and Rainbow in arms catch up to cross together. Carolina tagged with me and told me of the book she is reading. Benny had found a clue and they were already at the Blue Bay...(Box Car Children Blue Bay mystery). I delight in her joy reading the series, I loved them when I was young. She told me, "They are are on an 'is-land' " Her reading prowess made known through pronunciation. Tonight I checked in on her as I could still hear her mulling about the room when the others had zonked out. She had a piece of tarp like fabric spread out near the heater register, three bent curtain rods, a pile of beads, rope caulk tape mangled into a ball of funtional gray clay and several clay forms: a duck complete with breathing nostrils above the beak, a snail, a whale which was smaller than the snail and a few sharpened and unsharpened pencils. Obviously, she had undergone a surgical procedure to extract carelessly dropped beads from the heater's cavity and found inspiration in that resurrection and was forced to create by the divine powers within by whatever inspired materials she could accumulate. This could not wait until morning, the magic would inevitably be gone. I could take a lesson from this girl. Stuck to her bed was one more creation: a clay sign with writing etched. I couldn't decipher the writing yet. She told me it says, "Sunny's caf." I thought I heard her wrong and asked, "A baby cow?" "No, you know the food place..., a restaurant." "Oh, cafe!" I can tell she has been reading an awful lot.

1st day of school.

2009-09-10T12:29:00.000-07:00

They are at school. Moses just started afternoon, Sunny has been there all day. As Moses' class line followed his gray-haired grandmotherly smiling teacher, Mrs. Hunter his class passed Sunny's class. She said hi to me but I don't think Moses saw her. He was focusing on the procedure he was in. This morning we met Sunny's teacher, Ms. Mulligan, a tall, athletic blond. She introduced herself to Sunny and asked what school she had come from and what grade she was in. She told her she had a desk just for her. Then we joinied the other 2nd and 3rd graders in the library. Gabrielle, her assigned helper friend was given the duty to show her all around the library. Then the bell rang. All morning Moses has been asking, "Is it time for school yet?" Phew, am session would have been better but finally the time came. Also waiting were a pile of girls, a small blond boy with a Mohawk whose Dad had several piercings, a chubby hispanic boy. He pleasantly took his place in line and gave me a hug. No tears, no worries. What a brave guy. See you at 3:00.

Oh yeah, I am not guilty.

2009-09-09T20:27:00.000-07:00

When I exit a clothing store where the greeter/loss prevention specialist cordially bids me goodbye suddenly I nervously look away, find myself slurping my own spit in nervous manner. Whoa, maybe I do need to be checked on-perhaps by someone with a slighly different expertise. Then again, maybe I am a thief and I don't even know it. Kleptomaniac. Images of Dana Carvey in Lost In Paradise. I am pretty sure in my odd nervous state I wouldn't pass a lie detector test. And I am innocent! What would I do if I were guilty? Hey, maybe I've a future...I just might be the coolest, calmest, most innocent criminal to grace this side of the Willamette. And today we had a pre-employment drug test. My warped senses rear their nasty heads again. Maybe I've breathed stale skunk-like air that had something else in it just walking down the street, maybe I ate a poppyseed muffin. You just never know. How sensitive are these things. They wouldn't let me flush the toilet after filling the specimen cup, he checked the bathroom after I left, wouldn't allow me to wash my hands unless in his presence. Senor Phlebotomist even checked around the sink piping to make sure I hadn't switched specimens. Real nice guy, very thorough, friendly manner, just doing his job but nothing like the third degree to make you think even you'd missed something.

We signed the kids up for school on day two today, we got there midmorning so the secretary suggested we just wait until tomorrow for attendance. We walked around the school and all felt great about the place. Moses' nerves were calmed an awful lot after seeing his enticing, colorful classroom with cubbies, baskets, books and toys. Paper apples the size of dinner plates and a welcome sign adorned his classroom door. Carolina will be in a 2/3 split. Day three will be for real.

Just kidding about the first day of school.

2009-09-08T20:00:00.000-07:00

I am a woman fairly hip around the edges with this obnoxious unraveling thread from a wool cotton blend sweater that seems to dangle and catch things in its path like a tumbleweed. Things like dry babywipes attached to misplaced spoons, a lone flax seed planted on my shoulder yearning to be back with his friends in the half eaten bag of Dave's Killer Bread and a sweet four year old's plump hand, sticky with Oregon strawberry freezer jam. Things like a tidy, well-placed office, a silverware separator free of crumbs and the ability to manage 6 loads of matching, folded laundry usually escape me. Thus, I can be a challenge for a type B personality. But at the end of the day in front of me I see (within view) 42 boxes ready to be filled with the contents of our abode for a move approximately two weeks away, the Sprint bill strewn upon the floor (that will show the man what I think about that Corporate Big Brother) a mirror with little hand prints, cards taped to the walls with Portuguese words, a barbie doll and an empty baby bottle. The things I feel ahead are a new adventure upon us-one that we are unsure and partly worried about how it will materialize. Stepping one foot into the unknown clinging, to faith that God will see us though, grateful to have apartment management skills that have allowed us security and friendships, confident the Lord gives us what we need not always what we want. The gentle muffle of The Subterranean Howling, "20,000 Leagues Under The Sea" trying to get it mixed ASAP to enter a local contest in hopes of landing a spot to be the opening act for "The Killers" Portland show. Thinking of many type A activities that might help balance today's strong leaning towards B for tomorrow-turning in kindergarten shot records, signing a job offer, organizing some orders for the business, maybe sorting and packing some of these 42 boxes. But today was for memories-the day we missed the first day of school.

Squeakie's blog

2009-09-05T23:21:00.000-07:00

Carolina started a blog today. Her blog can be found among my blogs. It is http://squeakieswebsite.blogspot.com/
She named her blog "Sunshine Canyon" and the url is in honor of her own given nickname "Squeakie"-the sound her favorite animal, a mouse makes. She wrote this beautiful entry. Keep an eye on her, she'll go places.

Babysitter

2009-09-04T11:49:00.000-07:00

A sweet girl in our ward babysat the kids yesterday while we went to a second interview on the property of the place we are seeking to get a team management position. Having gotten accustomed to a sitter that just keeps the kids alive while we are away my expectations are pretty low. You really can't expect too much when we pay what we do. But we were surprised-She was so cute, thanking me for letting her babysit and asking about so many details. Worried about what they could eat, checked to see if they were supposed to put away their toys after playing with them etc. So we left, when we came home she had even washed the dishes they had used. Wow. When we entered the door she was down on the floor interacting with them. She had read stories, played. This morning Moses told me A played the piano for them and "She's really good! It was kind of twinkling. She changed it...And then the other side....I don't really know how. She changed it. I think Daddy should go to piano lessons. " I said, "Daddy can teach you how." "Do only girls do it?" I said, "Oh no, boys can definitely do it." "I'm gonna ask him now if he can teach me today." Way to seize the day, Moses.

Moments of the day

2009-09-02T21:03:00.000-07:00

Adrianna said "You betcha" today although I don't recall the context it was unexpected. Carolina and I escalated a power struggle before bed like no other. Water, violence, mayhem. No holds barred. Pretty. Pretty shameful. I received a rejection letter from a literary submission I did earlier this year but no regrets, at least I submitted. I forgot to write a thank you note for the interview yesterday, I still plan to do it tonight but it would have reached them earlier if I had it in the mail today. We went swimming. After 15 minutes Rainbow had had enough so I got out and dried her and rewrapped her in a towel and reentered the water standing up trying my best to keep her dry so the other kids could stay in the water longer. Carolina made a new best friend (although she can't remember her name) and she told me the game was boys vs. girls. Found some tennis shoes for Moses at the thrift store. Spent some time going through cupboards and corners trying to think minimalist. So much stuff!! Rainbow pulled herself up to a stool and used it as a walker for the first time. She's taking a bottle and loves it.

Adrianna swims!

2009-08-31T22:41:00.000-07:00

Swimming tonight was fun. We saw teenagers from our ward-they allowed Carolina to ruck it up and played with her to the point that she asked me if any one of them could babysit her sometime. They made her feel like the most hilarious thing since grilled cheese (ok, not the best parallel...) And Adrianna...she made an exciting break through learning to swim. For the past few days she has jumped from the stairs to my arms at a safe distance "swimming." She often wants me to come closer in and I try to push her comfort zone as much as possible. Well she got brave and put her face in and swam to me. Typical to a beginner she didn't have much of any movement propelling her forward. Her body was crooked and she wasn't orchestrating arms and legs together but she had some float to her "stroke" keeping her near the top and was kicking and made it to me. It was so exciting to see her do that. She felt just on top of the world with this great accomplishment. It gave her the confidence to do a perfect back float for about 5 seconds, too. She wanted to try everything she could think of to prove she could swim and was suddenly able to do more than she thought she could. It was the most beautiful swim I had ever seen. Recently I read a book on teaching your baby to swim by Virginia Hunt Newman who taught the first baby, Mary Frances Crosby to pass the beginner American Red Cross test. It was very helpful. Before I had been approaching teaching the kids from the view I had been trained to do which is often an older kid. Instead I learned some redirection to teach a child or a baby enough "swimming" skills to save their life if needed. In other words, doggie paddle and any kind ofr propulsion forward is good enough. This backbone feels like a more natural way to teach, more effective skills can be built upon later. Seeing Adrianna's peak in confidence confirms to me that this is the way to go. She is more willing to try other things now that she has seen some results. You should have seen that ear to ear smile and glow in that little girl's face. I am going to go hug her.

Registering Moses for kindergarten

2009-08-27T15:13:00.000-07:00

Rainbow started out buckled in the red wagon with sad, leaning wheels. Her smiles compensated for its lack. Down the sidewalk we trotted. Adrianna brought toys including Jerry and her elephant. Moses had plastic zebra and elephant. The toys had a mean mom, I overheard. She was really bratty. We stopped at the library to get the last summer reading program stamped. They scored awesome T-shirts for their reading and listening labors which they left behind at the kids school as our next stop was registering Moses for kindergarten. Easy come, easy go... Moses offically a kindergartener and Sunny a second grader. Mrs Baker said to say hi to her (lucky Sunny was invited to go to the zoo with Kierie today). Rainbow mopped up the freshly polished linoleum at the school while I filled out paperwork all the while making friends with the custodian (is that the politically correct term, how is that so much better than 'janitor.'), the principal, a lady with a cast and the neatest scooter walker I had ever seen. Moses and Anna met a guinea pig and played at a desk in the hall. Adrianna was reprimanded by the southern principal for running in the halls. I brought the wrong shot record so its not really official. Moses made Rainbow laugh harder than he ever has before. She "hougs"him tight. What a guy. He'll make a fine kindergartener.

Moonlit night

2009-08-26T22:44:00.000-07:00

At dusk Carolina, Moses, Adrianna and I walked to the library to return my ghastly overdue books. We talked about the day, about the new backpacks and school supplies, Adrianna swiveled in her new skirt (just a little too big) hugging her hips and I noticed she was wearing two different sandals. By now it was dark. We went to the park anyway and headed to the tennis court which was illuminated by lights. Two young women were playing a casual game of tennis and bantering the ball and exchanging reasons why he was not a good boyfriend. They let the kids play with one of their balls and we created our own version of tennis on the opposite side. Carolina wanted to be her own team. There weren't too many rules unless you did something wrong. Then we played goblins and ghosts on the playground equipment. Lying down atop the twisty slide in silence, still close to Adrianna and Moses (they got a little scared when Carolina's counting was up and she transformed into Goblin, it was dark, mind you) and looked up at the stars. Little specks of light. Reverse chocolate chip cookies. I learned I was not allowed to grab a Goblin because they are like a ghost-your arm just goes right through them...Funny think was, MY arm didn't actually just go through this Goblin-I decided not to press the issue further. It was nine, the witching hour and thus the fun had to end. We walked home and now they are sleeping, all except for a certain Goblin who reads late into the night.

Rooster Rock, Colombia River.

2009-08-25T22:36:00.000-07:00

We have planned to go to the beach all summer and haven't made it yet. Rainbow has never seen the ocean in her nearly 11 months of life. So Monday was our scheduled, absolute, definite day we were going to the coast! But then...Recording of The Subterranean Howl's second album, "The Tyranny of the Visual" has been in full swing for the last few weeks and Monday happened to be a day where two band members had the day off from work, and I am headed to a beach trip this weekend with church friends so it is imperative for Eli to cram as much recording in as possible before I take off etc...So much to the dismay of the darlings we changed the day yet again to Tuesday, today. Picnic vittles-check. Ice-check. Enough diapers-check. Extra clothes-check. All systems ago. Alarm set. We awake in the morning and think to check the coastal weather forecast. Chance of showers 60 degrees. Wednesday's temperature is ten degrees warmer....We considered postponing and came to a compromise. So as not to upset our careful balance of other appointments Wednesday and more importantly these fragile, hopeful hearts we pack in the car and head to Rooster Rock by the Colombia River. Rumor has it going east leads to more sun. As we arrive there are hints of rain and a gray cast. We check our options along the rocky shore hoping for a patch of sand, head to the left (the opposite direction) of the "Clothing Optional" portion. As an aside, the nicest portion is reserved for the weirdos who feel so burdened by a measly piece of fabric called shorts, ruining the possibility for morally discerning families the enjoyment of this portion. Hoping to add some cinnamon to the search and long walk for a suitable spot I sing, "Going on a Tiger hunt, I'm not scared, got my lunch by my side and my camera, too. Comin' to some tall grass...Gotta get through it...." No eye contact made and I could sense the groanings of Carolina and her lack of appreciation for my musical prowess. In my defense it did look like a grassy safari trek. Then a random sign tells us beyond this point clothing is optional. What? So much for this way being safe. Eli investigated to see if there were people there. Unfortunately the report was true so we turned around giving limited information and answers to the kids. Turned around, headed toward wooden pillars and a dike we balanced the whole strip. Moses jumped/fell off just before it got too dangerous to jump. Eli hoisted him to safety and to the end we went hoping again for sand at the end. There was plently of squishy, silty mud instead. I nursed a tired Rainbow who fell asleep in my arms for a cat nap while Eli took the Adventure Crew into the mud. I loved seeing their enlightened forms charge to nature, where they belong. Holding Rainbow still I heard many things: a small, steady rattle sound. I think it was a cricket. A flock of crows squack and fly low, the batting of their hollow wings, wind sorting the grass and tendering particles of sand. The wooden pillars as a backdrop, green erratic grasses and boulders formed in my minds eye a decent composition. I slowly stretched to my camera disturbing Rainbow a bit so I settle back to home base so as nopt to wake her. This composition must be painted only in my mind for now. The gang comes back ready for peanut butter crackers and juice, whetting their appetites for lunch. Adrianna protests the long journey back to the playground and grassy park area. Her shoes are muddy. "I'm uhsausted! I need help Mudder." Rainbow enjoys a pear, some yogurt, a raw carrot. At first I took it away assuming it to be too hard but she keeps kinding it so persistance serves her well and she enjoys its teething qualities for awhile. Moses takes his granola bar to go, in motion on the swing. When we get home he tells me he didn't eat much. I ask him why and he says he was just having too much fun to eat. Sunny and Moses' work on their frizbee skills with Eli. Rainbow sings a sobbing, sweet sorrowful tune of not enough sleep. The kids ask to go back into the water. Swimsuits on and ready the sun is breaking and sharing its smiles on my spirit. Suddenly free-spirited adventure crew and sunshine unite to convince me this is a good idea. The mud was so squishy and wonderful. Wet and shlunky it made the most satisfying sound when you pulled your foot out. Mud splattered on my leg. Adrianna and I dance and spin "like ballet" she interprets. The pools are surprisingly sun-kissed and the flat and shallow water extends for quite a while. It was sooooo fun! Rainbow was quick to note all the fun we seemed to be having and insisted she be allowed to participate. She kicked in the water and splashed and stirred her hands. Ate some silty sand. A few times-she didn't catch on that it wasn't good the first time and wouldn't be so great the next time. Happy sounds. Sunny roamed as far as she could pushing the boundaries of her freedom. Oh how that girl loves to be free. Sunny found a small peninsula and the trio began to make two mud jellos-which I overheard Sunny say they were best when they were 'plump.' So, if you ever make mud jello, you'll know.

Hollywood Implants.

2009-08-25T19:58:00.000-07:00

Sunny Carolina adorned in shades of violet and saphire (make-up done by co-conspirator and friend with broken arm:Rhoyah Johnson) pleads "Can we play dress-up?" I say "Uh, I don't know...(thinking of the aftermath souffle of sequins, sashes and puffy-sleeves) Ok but remember to be modest" The girls shriek with glee. Moses thinks they disn't hear my tail comment, "Ok, Sunny? Be modest!" As they slam the door to the transformed dressing room Moses expounds, explaining his understanding of modesty. He implies he's kind of uncomfortable talking abour it...but says he knows its about 'boobs' They don't really look nice. They look weird, when girls are a grown up." Thankfully, to Moses they come out fully modest with the introduction, "Hollywood!" Carolina has pink-shimmer rimmed shades, purple-tulle skirt, hair parted ever so artisitically, my black leather heel dress boots, Rhoyah has a recycled costume with a rich heritage passed worn by many starry-eyed imaginative engenues, a blazer and ratted hair straight out of a B 80's movie. Modest, yes. Conservative, not so much.

Mother.

2009-08-24T23:50:00.000-07:00

Adrianna called me "Mudder" several times today. My name is usually Mom, Mama or Mommy or babe, depending on who's hollering...But 'mother,' never. She called me mother when we were floating down the current stream in the pool, "Mudder, hold my hand" as she tip toe bobbed with the waves just barely tall enough to keep her head above water. I must remind her to keep her mouth closed as she gags on the water. While she floated on the pink turtle board-apparently it is named "Tortellini." I caught her intentionally slurping up the water while floating on Tortellini-and also mind you she told me just a few minutes earlier, she was goin' bafroom-yes in the pool. So she drinks pool water, I eat floor cookies (when nobody's watching)-and I will let you draw your own parallel conclusions about how much 'p' is in our 'ool.' Come on, don't tell me you've never done it.

Pretty close to inspiration

2009-08-19T00:39:00.001-07:00

After church on Sunday I went back to my families pew to gather up our belongings (i.e stuff the clean cloth diapers, dirty tissues, package of strewn about Crayolas back into my purse-by the way I have officially decided I will not carry a 'diaper bag' anymore. Whatever receptacle contains diapers or relations therein must be in resemblance of a purse.) So-purse packed. I glance under the bench once more and to the side of the far wooden leg I see something. To interject, I am hungry. I ate cookies for breakfast and it is going on 4:00. So the something, it is a crispy, lone chocolate teddy graham. My flight instinct was to pick it up and eat it. It was not ours, we had not caught our neighbors savoring such chocolate morsels either. Quite likely it was a week old and missed by the clean up volunteers. Oh, sure what SHOULD have been foremost in my mind...it was on the floor. Nah, didn't care. The sweet buzz of chocolate crisped flour was all that motivated my pathetic excuse for a soul. A force pulled me back. It felt physical but I am convinced it was spiritual. I was at church, remember. I sat up and allowed a moment for the blood to disperse from my fuzzy head. Perhaps I had just had a vision. What do to now. I did what I had to do. I touched Eli's arm, pulled his ear towards my lips and relayed to him the occurence that had just taken place. I told him of The Force I had just felt. That Force was Eli's presence. The sole reason I did not partake of that chocolate teddy graham was that I knew Eli would be appalled. Then I asked him, "What does that say about me?" He shook his head and repeated twice, "That you need me." And so I do.

Vote The Subterranean Howl local band to play at ZOO

2009-05-06T14:11:00.000-07:00

One more shameless plug. Please go to http://www.oregonzoo.org/Concerts/index.htm and write in The Subterranean Howl to play for your favorite local band in July at the zoo! They are inspiring, talented and worthwhile and would put on a life-affirming show! Thanks, its easy, just a couple clicks. Only one vote is allowed per computer so if you have access to more than one computer, ya know...You can vote even if you are not local! THe show is in July. Shannon (The Subterranean Howl's #1 fan!) Thank you!

Dandelion Summers

2009-05-04T22:27:00.001-07:00

We have been busy preparing to launch into a new business. Dandelion Summers is our new web based business ran by Simon and I. We are commited to providing high quality organic and natural products for baby and adults. I would love to have you visit our new website www.dandelionsummers.com to see our beautiful products. Also feel free to visit our new blog www.dandelionsummers.blogspot.com to follow new developments. A naturally beautiful childhood leads into a fulfilling, sustainable adulthood.

Rainbow touches my hand

2009-02-21T15:53:00.000-08:00

Between mediating fights and picking up sweaters and doing dishes Rainbow had more than her desire of alone time. Supine, tears welled in her the corner of her eyes as she stared at the ceiling, which was about as responsive to her needs as I was. One tear ducts seems over-productive because of her cold. Picking her up I nestled her into my face, feeling the transfer of life and simple amazing power of another's elevating touch. A confirmation that together we'll be ok. I wouldn't be surprised if something physically changed within us when we feel the touch of another. At least there is a spiritual transformation just as when the spirit leaves the body the mass weight is changed. How woven are our spirits and our bodies. And in a baby, they are so connected still. They don't know how to compartmentalize these strong parts and they shouldn't be. To develop ourselves the way we are intended we need all our parts and passions in a balanced unison. We see a baby and are drawn in because they are so amazing. Feeling her soft warm chubby cheeks I can't think of anything more wonderful or soft. The warmth of the sun on my face and the smooth feel of nearly perfect grains of sand beneath my feet is as close to the feeling of heavenly ascension. A feeling that we feel so rarely, like a precious gem. The wonder a newborn baby attracts to draw in strangers doors are opened and brick overcoat's of resistance are put aside. The baby mediates and reminds us of the intricate and gentle details of our Creator. We feel drawn to the baby and feel affirmation that as children of God, we ought to accept that draw we have toward one another. Personally wonderous to feel the trust and gift I have been given as a co-creator. I take a few moments to sit with Rainbow as I wait for the other kids to complete their orders of cleaning their bedrooms. In awe, I watch Rainbow. In my lap she sits reaching for my magazine. I turn her around so I can see the details of her face and to watch her think. She reaches her hands, like little stars and fingers my pinky. She keeps grasping at my finger, touching it again and again. Each time she touches with a different pressure, a different stroke, like a delicate paintbrush painting the smallest of details, the mast of a boat, the light in a child's eye. Her touch is special for what it is not: strong, deliberate or well-thought out. Her curiosity is fresh and completely optimistic. The painter may choose not to paint the light in the child's eye-instead, he manipulates the white paper by painting around it, leaving only that sparkle alone. But his choice was considered, her Godly inspiration comes like water cascading from a spring into every choice she makes. The wisdom of allowing nature to reveal its beauty with subtlety. She never seems to tire of something so simple. Her eyebrows furrow and change. Maybe she is trying to spell a message with her eyebrows. I love how she causes me to wonder what she wonders about.

Forgiveness

2009-02-16T22:39:00.000-08:00

Adrianna and Carolina frolicked in a circle with enough happiness that pansies and posies might have blossomed underfoot. They sang together, "The sisters! We're sisters! The sisters!" Only trouble was Moses, the brother-felt ostracized. Eli called over to the girls referencing Moses crying in his room, "Girls, I am glad you are happy to be sisters but do you see Moses feels sad and left out because he's not a sister? Could you be nice to him and sing 'brothers and sisters'?" Thankfully they were in a receptive mode and quickly shifted gears and invited Moses to join the fun. The happiness Moses felt from being brought back into the flock reminded me of the unconditional, unwavering love I feel from my Savior when I repent. Instantly the love and trust cascades affirming my self worth and delivering joy and hope for the present and the future. What happened moments ago no longer matters at all. There is a residue of remembrance only because we compare the great feeling we have now to the dark and dismal state we were in. Moses wiped the tears with the back of his sleeve. His blotchy face had an illustrious, token lip-corner turn up Moses style as he completed the fulcrum of the pinwheel. With their arms joined and laughter in the air the siblings sang on.

Reading Charlotte's Web to my kids.

2009-02-15T20:29:00.000-08:00

A hopeful, vibrant and full of life little piglet named Wilbur has an uncanny resemblance to myself. And Eli, my dear love, an awful lot like a wise spider. Charlotte shares her ways of spinning a web and her tools of spidery with this curious soul. They become fast bound friends as they admire one another's ways. Wilbur asks too many questions but never fears asking too many questions. He sees no harm in wondering and using his resources and friends around him as a source of inspiration- a place where answers can be found. As Charlotte explains how to spin a web Wilbur is thrilled to try his hand at this creative endeavor. After Templeton, the rat ties a piece of sting onto Wilbur's tail he gives it another go, "Wilbur climbed again to the top of the manure pile, full of energy and hope. 'Everybody watch!' he cried. And summoning all his strength, he threw himself into the air, headfirst. The string trailed behind him. But as he had neglected to fasten the other end to anything, it didn't really do any good, and Wilbur landed with a thud, crushed and hurt. Tears came to his eyes. Templeton grinned. Charlotte just sat quietly. After a bit she spoke. " She fairly surmises that Wilbur lacks know how and spinnerets. He can't spin a web, but that it is ok, he has his meals brought to him each day. He has other talents. Wilbur sighed. "You're ever so much cleverer and brighter than I am, Charlotte. I guess i was just trying to show off. Serves me right." I think this exact scenario has played out in my household. I recall the time I had a grandiose idea. My palette was large and i had a vision to paint my razzled beauty, Adrianna in a scene by the ducks. I sketched quickly and bought the paints and chose the colors. I sketched quickly but was most excited so I jumped right in. The result was flat, unbalanced colors, nothing stood out, no distance or depth existed. most disappointing was the lack of execution that I had delivered to the little spirit of my baby girl. My slop of paint had no life. Like Wilbur I cried in my little pile of manure. I put off spinning all together. Eli with out bias tried to direct me to improve it. To start anew, to find new directions and to bring my strengths into it. To give it time and space. Wilbur desperately wants to find out how Charlotte plans to save his life, her naturally patient ways are not begetting the answers he craves. She encourage him to take care of himself. Never hurry and never worry. Another time I sat behind the drum set and experimented with the symbols, the snare and an occasional bass thump. I did it with a misguided thought that Eli might notice a hidden talent I had for rhythm. Well, my Christenson DNA reared its unrhythmic head and well, the truth shall set you free. I looked beyond my misgivings and found I have other tricks up my sleeve more suited to my development. So the story goes and we find Charlotte's slow steady ways create a magnum opus, an egg sac that she has created perfectly and will be her kin. Without Wilbur, those eggs would not have survived. She needed him and he needed her. They learn and complement one another beautifully. They lift one another to a higher beam in the barn. This week I watched Eli and his band play. It has been so long since I have been to a show. I love to go and to be reminded that this is what Eli must do. His music and more precisely Eli, himself elevates me and causes me to think beyond the mundane.

2008-12-26T19:27:00.000-08:00

A little girl that loves "skirtsies" and Daddy.
The carved wooden mouse that Eli and Moses made for Sunny Carolina. She loves mice for some reason and this one fashioned with love she is surely enjoying.
Carolina working practicing some techniques Dad just shared with her. Watch out Hannah Montana. There's a new girl in town.

Moses' face reminds me of me when I was his age in this picture.

2008-12-26T19:24:00.000-08:00

2008-12-26T19:22:00.000-08:00

Christmas Eve

2008-12-26T19:17:00.000-08:00

Uncle Clinton and Rainbow
Adrianna age 3

2008-12-26T19:07:00.000-08:00

Little Rainbow, a whole 2 1/2 months old looking so cute and organic in her cloth diapers. Don't you just want to squeeze her?
Sunny reading to her little sister. Rainbow appears to be enjoying the experience. The children's library celebrates Beverly Cleary since she is a Portland native.

Moses at Pioneer Courthouse Square pre-hot chocolate. Doesn't he look like he needs a "pick me up?"

Anticipating Chrismas visiting downtown Portland

2008-12-26T18:57:00.000-08:00

Visiting Central Library Downtown
I took the kids downtown before Christmas and we saw three Santas, eyed all the cool toy stores, read books at the library and sent letters to Santa at Macy's department store. They had quite a lovely Christmas ambiance. The kids enjoyed the train and all the moving reindeer. We were downtown about eight hours. All four of them versus me could have been a disaster but they were so sweet and enjoyed our big day so much. They played around Pioneer Courthouse square and we stopped to get hot chocolate, too.

2008-12-18T19:12:00.000-08:00

Fibrous pea pods mashing in my teeth, I wrapped my scarf around my neck again since it kept slipping and looked over my shoulder watching my footsteps appear in the slushy snow. The peas brought me back to spring. The snow back to the current. Adrianna and I made a lovely snowman this afternoon. I had the peapod in my pocket because we had no carrots in the fridge for a nose so Moses suggested using the pea instead. We used a stick in the end, thus when I slipped my hand into the wool corner, I found it. I could see Carolina's school now. i thought of this mornign when i took her to school. Kitty corner to her desk a boy with mussed, dusty brown hair and brown eyes said something to greet "Sunny." He told her "You need to get a paper and write your name on it." Seeing me he seemed to address the rest of his conversation comfortable with both of us hearing, "We're frosting gingerbread cookies today! I am going to make one for Sunny. It will be great." Sunny beamed when she heard they were making cookies as she tried to shovel in her biscuit cheese breakfast. We were a few minutes late to class so i was helping her get settled in faster by taking her jacket andd backpack off and putting them in her locker and following her request to remove the canadian bacon slice in her sandwich and the egg (which she said didn't tast good.) The garbage disposal in me shoveled them in my own mouth discreetly and I
admit I even agree the egg wasn't so great. I took note of the boys nametag on his desk. I had a feeling this must be "Arizona." Three days ago when I picked Carolina up from school her girlfriend was giddy to share with me "Sunny got a note from Arizona!" Sunny smiled a sheepish one tooth missing smile (since then, she is now missing both her front teeth) and had a glimmer of excitement and willingness to share with me more about "the note." So Sunny pulled from her backpack a wrinkled, well-read note that said, "I love you Sunny." It also had a hand drawn heart. As we walked through the soccer field homeward i asked her what she thought about it. She said with an understated heffalump sort of a laugh, "I dunno!" Still smiling all the while, mind you. She mentioned, "Wait till i tell Dad. i know he's gonna laugh." My delight in this whole episode comes from the ease in which she felt telling dear old Mom and Dad. When we got home she had sort of moved on to other things and i pulled her aside and asked her if it was all right if I told Dad. She said it was and shyly ran to the edge of the room so it might appear she wasn't around but she was still at comfortable hearing distance to hear the reaction. She had pinned her note to her wall as well. She must not be too ashamed of this admirer. She also showed it off to another friend that came to play afterschool the next day. Ahh, her first love letter.

2008-12-10T20:51:00.000-08:00

2008-12-10T20:48:00.000-08:00

2008-12-06T23:20:00.001-08:00

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us most. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and famous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in all of us. And when we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others. ~Nelson Mandela

I heard the bells

2008-12-03T22:04:00.000-08:00

What is your favorite Christmas memory? I was asked to share this at my ward enrichment activity tonight. All week I have sifted through my minds corridors and like the rest of my life, it's dusty, disorganized and devilishly scattered up there. Quite frankly I didn't know what the heck to say. On the drive to the church I still didn't know. The carol before I was to present my thoughts....I still didn't know. I have no lack of rich and pleasant memories but choosing one was the trick. I garbled several snippets into a costume of being one "memory." Apparently I passed the test as their was applause afterward. Also tomatoes. But it got me thinking about a few of my memories (this is where some lovely chimes should be heard as an interlude)Every Christmas eve as a child all my siblings would sleep in my room. We would giggle and not get any sleep and tell stories of the Cinnamon bears that lived in a magical candy land. Clinton without exception would sneak upstairs to take a peek at the loot from Santa which was never wrapped and report on the appearance of the gift spread. I always chastised him party wanting the surprise but partly thrilled that he had done the deed and I didn't have to. I don't believe there was a Christmas that passed where Clinton did not know each and every one of his gifts as he couldn't stand the suspense and my parents are very unoriginal present hiders....(tip for the kids at home...under the bed and in their closet...) Every Christmas eve we read Luke 2 as a family and acted out the holy story. With a few variations it would proceed with necessary elements like...the narrator screaming, a crying angel (not from a sacred cathartic moment), no Mary (she was Mary last year and wanted a new part), the sheep hitting the baby Jesus.
Each December 6th my mother carried the German tradition of putting out your shoes for Saint Nicholas to fill with candy and goodies or coal. The benevolent woman that she is, no one ever got coal. One thing I love about my Mom is that she believes in good chocolate, even for kids so no Palmers crap for us, the good, creamy, full-bodied stuff that saves souls.
Gift-giving was always a highlight. We had fun sharing what gifts we had chosen for one another. I remember Feeling so proud to give my Dad a fishing fanny pack since his had worn out. I never knew what to give to my mom. She regifted soaps and lotions (but was always discreet about it.) I find myelf doing the same these days. Most of the excitement came from knowing the dollars from babysitting racked up for months had been spent on something my brother or sister would love for sure. We had a ward party all decorated like Bethlehem with shops and bartering. We travelled the "markets" and used our clay chips and coins to buy flatbread, olives and figs. I can smell the unleavened bread. The energy in the air felt like a warm summer evening on a day the ages had prophecied of.
Our first Christmas together was one of hope. Just the two of us and a little heartbeat we would hear just a few days later. We were full of wonder and excitement already eagerly making plans about bringing our baby home to Alaska with our parents. Our love was creating a life. Eli was so excited Christmas morning, just like a little kid. I loved how happy it made him to give things to me that would make me happy. Maybe the Lord withheld all truths of what would come to pass with her Godly son so that she could enjoy the little moments, not drowning in the sorrows of loss. So it was with my little son.
Spending Christmas's with Eli's family was a delightful addition. The taste of buttercream frosting and soft sugar cookies lingers as we load into the delivery van that used to belong to Uncle Dave, These folks know carols I have never heard of. They ALL know them, in parts, too. Emily and Eli were able to teach me "Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat, please to put a penny in the old man's hat." I believe that's the only one I was able to master. As we tumbled out of the van to drop off a plate at the Statt's my heart warmed to see the look of delight on these people who love my other family so much. Matching pajamas for all of the kids. Like purple and green grapes Kelsey, Zach, Eli and I formed a pathetic body "X-mas" for a photo op. Someone should have warned me, the Christmas eve program was not your ordinary reading. It is talent show galore. I love how how happy Mom Milliman gets to tell that sweet story with such beautiful talented mediums, her family that she loves. I am touched that whatever it is I am included whole-heartedly as an official family member that might as well have been around since my first cry.
The 1st presidency Christmas devotional always brings me joy and a desire to put our Savior foremost in the celebration. I remember the simple and beautiful stories the then, Elder Monson shared about helping the widows and the children. Elder Packer's war experiences make me consider simplicity in the celebration and that we are alike. How beautiful and inspiring to be in tune with the needs of others and to act on impressions of helping others. Mr. Krueger's Christmas. Now that I am a mother the wonder of watching my own children anticipate the special day fills me with awe. As I have a mind like a trap when it comes to song lyrics (my mind traps them and never lets them out) I tend to recycle Christmas songs as lullabies to my precious baby buntings. One Christmas I held little Moses in my arms and sang him the carols of old. His innocent eyes batted as he drifted off to sleep. How Mary must have felt with the Christ child in her trust. When Carolina was about two I recall the stars in her eyes when we finally placed the lights on the tree and dimmed the lights. The illumination was too much for her! She was translated immediately. So many saints have reached out to our children and brought an extra dose of wonder and excitement to their Christmas celebration. How rejuvenating it is to witness the miracle through their eyes and purifying to see others extend their love to my most precious jewels. Throughout much of tonight's program I enjoyed Rainbow's sweet presence. She has a cold today and the poor dear has congestion which causes her to spit up which causes her to cry and feel ever so sad. Her little red eyes are so sad, too. A few kind women around me took turns holding her when she fussed or made sure I had a chance to eat. Noticing that they sought out my needs touches me but after awhile I sensed poor little Rainbow wanted only her Momma whom she trusts infinitely. She looked so relieved to get me back. I enjoyed having just her with me. In fact, I missed the girl. At times having to shuffle the necessary shuffling of picking up peed panties, washing the dishes, picking up toys, trying to make time to play superheros but never seeming to fit them in (and I am just a pathetic fighter. I am a lover. Moses must dictate to me sentence by sentence what my guy should be doing and saying.) the attachment necessary for mother and infant is trying and tiring and one more rhythmic cry just doesn't seem cute. But for this extended time I had the freedom to just prop her in my arms facing me and to share with her my time. I smiled and smiled at her and she smiled and smiled right back. When she smiles the left side of her lip curls a little more than her right. She loved the engagement we shared so dearly. Her whole developing face twitched and lit up in so many subtle inquisitive expressions. While the congregation prayed I continued to hold my gaze with her. She's closer to heaven than any of us. She gave me an exaggerated smile and a single coo that was darn near close to a laugh. I think to make it an official laugh, it must be two consecutive smile coos. Its coming soon.

Up the mountain.

2008-11-25T23:13:00.000-08:00

Rainbow is wiggled into her front carrier forward for the first time for a walk to Papa Murphy's pizza to acquire a pepperoni pizza, half olive, half mushroom. Two years have passed since the baby bjorn and I were constant companions, i found myself a shy bride when trying to figure it out. I buttoned Rainbow's arms so they protruded out raised just a bit, reminding me somehow of John McCain. She seemed to like it ok so off we went. Turning the corner onto 79th I see a mirror image of a baby travelling via bjorn toward us! As our distance lessened we exchanged understated, knowing smiles and the parents asked how old she was. Her eyes were open only a sliver like little crescent moons. When we stopped motion she expressed her uneasiness. The couple I approached like an oracle wore loose, natural weaved, organic cloth. he had long dreadlocks and wore the papoose. She had a gentle hum about her and said "She wet herself...or is uncomfortable." Then shared that they were on their way to return a Dunstan baby language book back to the library if I was interested. Decoding what each cry means to empower parents. The analyzed cry Rainbow had omitted was what I think of as a "recovery cry", after she gets all fired up she submits with a gentler sigh of a cry. Like a prophetess the kind woman shared her knowledge. But alas, to me it does seem a fairly safe bet that a baby cries a great percentage of the time for one of those two reasons...so is it really the cry that reveals the truth? I snobbishly chuckle internally thinking I've cornered the market on knowing my childrens needs. I assume these are two first time parents and I assume they assume I am as well. Alas I think of baby Sunny Carolina and her endless crying. Quite frankly I think these prophets might truly have had something I could have used if I had croseed this street 6 years ago in a linear co-existant world for this daughter I think in the same linear co-existant world was surely a red-head. Moses' early tears greatly caused by his weakened lungs....was "uncomfortable." Adrianna "wet herself" with her sweet coos? I pummel through my motherhood experiences and each of my children's needs and think of the baby we lost. What might he have cried for. I cried because I was "uncomfortable." Rainbow has already had two little colds. Before it was clearly apparent my honed skills surfaced and I recognized her cry being one of definite pain. Chalk one up for learnign something as a mother. Simple, predictable dialogue ensues when stranger parents connect. "How old is your child?" "What is her name?" "Oh, how fast they grow." Kind and sweet intentions but nothing more. The prophets offering was more. I might grow if I listened to others stories rather than presuming my experiences are conclusive. Next time I see a parent maybe I'll ask something new.

I'm taking life too seriously

2008-11-25T23:09:00.001-08:00

I will tell you who I am not. I am not the angst ridden, downtrodden spirit battling self. I am not the girl too weak to exercise. I don’t fear the indigo night, I get angry and I put on my new Nike shoes that look like they belong to Spiderman and I get out the door and run. That’s when I listen to Eli’s album. That’s when I find out who he is. I don’t hide my paints and pencils and new sable brushes in a chest. They come out every night and develop a human form in two dimensional form. I delight and think where I went wrong when the cranium is too big and the eyes are to close together. The nose is right on the money. I turn on an album I love and dance and move. I swoop levels and use my space. My living room is a stage for me alone. I imagine Bruce Springsteen singing for a crowd of a thousand. I think of some way that I felt like “Mary in high school” and I wring that feeling out of me when I kick a flexed foot forward. In my mind the form is raw beautiful. Bruce Springsteen at a democratic convention rally…crooning of hope and idealism. What’s so wrong with that? Dad’s my favorite dance partner. Dancing because its fun and you can do whatever you want. Democrats are generally bad, Republicans generally good. Liberals…evil. Conservatives…saints. What this country needs is one big free for all ball. What the world needs now is dance, sweet dance. Without planning the real me puts off laundry and takes the kids outside to gather veiny fall leaves. We make collages and spontaneously decide to make a pile which transforms into a big pot of stew. A melting pot. Then we jump in the stew. Some more of wha t our country needs. The shortcut to the bus stop and its leading lines and rusted foliage is my fallen memory. I photographed Katelin, leading lines, disappearing vantage point, age two there with her back to my camera and underwear.

Taking a walk.

2008-11-11T21:14:00.000-08:00

I am a jukebox of an odd amalgamation of songs I almost know by heart. Rainbow is in my arms and is my safe audience. I don't remember the last time I sang out at the top of my lungs but I did for her and she didn't judge me. Cat Stevens, hymns, patriotic songs, primary songs, ballads from high school choir, This Land is Your Land, Les Miserables, Bruce Springsteen, Johnny Cash. In the still of the night porch lights are on. "Do you hear the people sing? Singing a song of angry men? It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again! When the beating of your heart echoes the beating of the drums where is a life about to start When tomorrow comes!"
A guy in ripped tight jeans and a quasi-trench coat scissors by us. I wonder what he is thinking of. what worries him. Rainbow is swaddled in her soft baby fleece blanket from Grandma Christenson. She tries so hard to free her imprisoned arms. A chill wind tossles the purple and orange leaves in their own personal tornadoes, the trees look like flames. "All the times that I cried, keeping all the things I knew inside, Its hard, but its harder to ignore it. If they were right, I'd agree, but its them you know not me. Now there's a way and I know that I have to go away. I know I have to go. " From Rainbows desperate anguish cry the fire theory seems believable. Fire and going away. After six blocks her rhythmic cry subsides. An equilibrium is found. Her deep eyes have a tired smile. "In the beauty of the lily's Christ was born across the sea. With a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me." Singing this I think of ward choir singing with my Dad and singing for President Hinckley. I sense Rainbow feels its peace. We pass by Holly's house. Should I stop? She's probably busy I convince myself. I look at the time on my cell phone. Audrey would be asleep already. "As testimony fills my heart it dulls the pain of day. For one brief moment heaven's view appears before my gaze." I block out my conscience and my own calibrated side reminding myself of the senior devil in the Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis instructing dear Wormwood in the art of damning souls. Pacify the people with their own concerns, fill them with self doubt, and make them feel how unnecessary it is to reach out. Rainbow in all of her innocence cries out again, I use that as confirmation that Holly couldn't possibly want to see me with a crying child, potentially awakening her own. Alas Wormwood succeeds again as I walk by her house. This little girl in my arm has a flawed and hopeful mother. "At my door the leaves are falling ... I go out to a party to have me a little fun but I find me a darkened corner but I still miss someone."

2008-10-19T22:21:00.000-07:00

Adrianna's 3rd birthday! She savored that she finally got her own birthday celebration! What an honor.

Sunny Carolina and her amazing creations.

2008-10-19T22:19:00.000-07:00

2008-10-19T20:53:00.000-07:00

Adrianna and Rainbow both in their pink bunny pajamas. Adrianna giggles with pride and delight when she holds her baby sister and mimics her cooing, milk swallows and grunts to a "T."

This week Rainbow was wearing a fuschia nightgown and orange winnie the pooh socks. Moses said, "Look Mom I picked a flower! She looks like a rose, and her feet are the honey!" When he was holding her, which he does with amazing love and patience, he noticed something and stuttered as he often does trying to form the words about what he had discovered, "Look Mom, I can see...." I realized what he saw and said, "Your reflection? in her eyes?" And then Moses said, "Is that what it is when, when, when...you can see a big brother in her eyes?"
Rainbow has a sweet temperment and really responds to her siblings showing her love and adoration.

Eli sings to baby Rainbow

2008-10-13T23:58:00.000-07:00

Eli's brother, Ian, was secretly filming while Eli sang to Rainbow.

2008-10-04T18:08:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the world Rainbow Ophelia

2008-10-04T17:21:00.000-07:00

Dear Rainbow Ophelia,
We are filled with joy that you are here. As you sleep your foreshadowing dream smiles and sweet dimple reveal your future happiness. A world of hope exists for you. What you will embark upon is limitless and unknown. The things that will excite you and fill you with wonder we don't yet know. Driving home from the hospital I thought of all the little things you have never experienced and the moment by moment discoveries we will watch you unveil. We recognize your peaceful spirit; you respond when you are shown love. We feel sweetly appreciated by your small cries soothed when we hold you in our arms. Jeffry R. Holland said, "Heaven never seems closer than when we are touched by others." It really does seem you are an angel blessing our lives, so pure and close to heaven still. And life truly never seems better or more meaningful when the daily events are graced with the innocence and beauty of children and with you, little Rainbow, our new baby.
When Sunny Carolina, Moses and Adrianna first met Rainbow they were in awe of how small and how cute she is. I told Carolina that I was beginning to think Rainbow would never come. With out skipping a beat, Carolina said, "Not me, I've been waiting all year for this!" Adrianna was so inquisitive. She wanted to know how the baby ate although she soon revealed she already knew. A-"How does she eat?" S-"Momma feeds her." A-"Where's her bottle?" S-"She gets her milk from Momma. Then she touched my breast and said, "Right here?" Our first night home from the hospital Moses snuck out of his bed countless times each time finding a new way of asking when Rainbow would be coming to bed as her crib is in his room. We told him she would be spending a lot of time with Mom at first. He came to admire her for a moment and she opened her eyes (the dearest treasure of all to the kids!) I formally introduced Rainbow to Moses, reminding her Moses is the one that always sang to her and talked so gentle to her when she was in my tummy -and this is what he looks like...since her eyes were finally open she could really meet him. Moses took a quiet, humble pride telling me "She doesn't know what Sunny and 'Ana look like yet."
Rainbow Ophelia born 9/27/08, 7 lbs 13 ounces, 19 inches long. About ten o clock the evening before her birth I began to think perhaps these contractions might be real but didn't trust my instincts enough yet. We retired and by 2:00 am I felt pretty sure this was the real Mccoy (whoever he is). I woke Eli at 3 and we left the house by 3:30 and Rainbow was born just after 4:30! Hence although that beautiful epidural was in my game plan...the labor progressed too fast so I went el natural and all went well. The saving grace being that it was a swift process. Eli assisted, catching Rainbow in his arms first and cutting the cord.

2008-09-11T21:24:00.000-07:00

2008-09-11T21:19:00.000-07:00

Adrianna all by herself on the frog jump ride. What a brave girl.

First time on roller skates spent mostly on his bum.
We went to the Harvest Moon Festival at the library. Here Moses is donning his paper lantern with a glowstick inside. The kids paraded around the library with their glowing lanterns, listened to a traditional telling of a Chinese story and heard Vietnamese music while eating mung bean and coconut mooncakes and ice cream. Moses and Adrianna were most excited about the fact that they scored seconds on ice cream.

2008-09-11T21:16:00.000-07:00

Eli pulled a purple starfish off the rocks in the distance.

Oaks Amusement Park

2008-09-11T21:12:00.000-07:00

2008-08-31T22:44:00.000-07:00

2008-08-31T22:37:00.000-07:00

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Here's Moses mountain climbing just like Eli would.

Exploring a cave. Entering it little water droplets constantly streamed down making a musical wonder.

Living life!

2008-08-31T22:29:00.001-07:00

Carolina dure didn't want to go home when the day was over.
Kelsey lovingly guided Adrianna over the rocks and tide pools which she appreciated very much since I didn't feel so steady on my feet with my recent balance shift from a watermelon belly protrusion. Adrianna really wanted to go everywhere "my kids" went. It seemed the grass was greener over there.
"Look guys! A sea anemone!" Moses and Carolina took turns pestering the poor fellas by jabbing them and giggling in glee to see them close up when touched. Last week we took a walk by our home in town, mind you, not our seaside chalet- and stopped by a puddle. The kids saw little water bug creatures and insisted they were seeing seahorses. So this was a more accurate science lesson. They might appreciate Don Quixote.

Sha Zam!

2008-08-31T22:27:00.000-07:00

2008-08-31T22:17:00.000-07:00

This week Zachary and Kelsey came to visit. We went to Oswald beach where the surfers go...so Moses at least, fit right in. We enjoyed a picnic lunch, Eli almost died from his daring explorations in a cave and a wave encounter, Moses fell in the water and laughed about it, Carolina leaped right in and laughed about it and Adrianna parrots anything the other guys do...
I loved watching them make improvements to an abandoned sand castle. They ran back and forth to their river water source to refill their buckets over and over to fill up the mote with water. It took them a while to realize they were making no progrss as the water absorbed right back into the ground.
Dear brothers. They took more than a handful of swims into the frigid water...everytime the sun peeked from the clouds they cosidered that the call of the wild beckoning.
At one point Carolina and Moses took off exploring on the rocks and logs and Adrianna stayed behind with the adults. I just loved watching her dig and handle the sand with such tenacity, completely oblivious to my observations. I sure wondered what she was thinking about.
Aunt Kelsey and the wild child in her element.

2008-08-31T22:14:00.000-07:00

New duds from Grandma and Grandpa Milliman. And everyone is clean and neat and ready for church on time. They all had an extra chipper to their step knowing they looked so good.

2008-08-31T21:18:00.000-07:00

Moses courageosly volunteered to be an actor in the "cutest little show ever" at the fair. He played the farmer boy in 4H that called all his animals. He spoke loud and clear and did his very best. When asked what he liked about it he said, "just talkin'. I didn't like the chicken dance. Bored."

2008-08-31T21:13:00.000-07:00

Feeding the sheep, we saw goats milked too

Adrianna riding a hobby horse
Moses would like Davy Crockett.
Corn, corn everywhere!

2008-08-31T21:01:00.000-07:00

Merry go round delight

Moses, Adrianna and Grace at the Canby county fair. One horse made an awful lot of racket when his friend was able to get out and he didn't. I quizzed Moses about his experience, here's some of his commectary in his own words: Referring to llamas, Moses asked me "What's that big thing that spits at 'cha? I didn't like them because they didn't have teeth on the bottom. They looked weird. And they bite 'cha. And they chew weird (refurring to their cud) They chew one time and theen the chew goes out and they have to chew again. That's weird."
The baby pigs were "so cutie. I thought the big ones when I feeled them... Ohhhh, they were so slippery. The baby ones were furry so I like him. The big one was kind of wet and smooth and slippery. I don't like them like that. I like them nice and dry. Mom, did you like the baby ones?" "Yeah, they were darling" ""That means cutie. Ana looked so cute when she was lookin at the pigs."

2008-08-31T20:59:00.000-07:00

2008-08-31T20:55:00.000-07:00

At Mount Tabor park we have made late summer a ritual to leisurely pick blackberries and enjoy the scenery together. The kids like hearing their echo across the water reservoir, running free and rolling down the grassy hill. We have made blackberry cobbler, crisp, smoothies and hope to get to jam before the summers up.

2008-08-31T20:30:00.000-07:00

Moses pointing out the first ripened cherry tomato. We can hardly believe how abundant they have been coming from plain old buckets. Goes to show it's not the container that has true beauty but what's inside.
Adrianna trying to learn to use the toilet. Here she doesn't let on what a frustrating, failed experiment it has been.
Quirky Carolina in her hand-picked outfit headed to handpick some blackberries. My guess is Pippi Longstockings and she would get along royally.
Moses in his shades by the bump that will someday be a new sister. Moses seems to remember each day to check in with her talking in soft tones and saying, "It's me, Moses."

2008-08-30T20:01:00.000-07:00

We visited Tyler and Alexandra Caffall's family Oktoberfest in Sandy and savored some gourmet German food. They met a brand new puppy, fed some chickens and taunted the chickens with multiple chicken toys Alex's mother had supplied them with, fed and waited for the evening birds to approach, had a tour of the garden with Tyler in command ( he found a zuchinni ripe for the tasting-they liked it). It was the last time we saw Tyler and Alex as they are heading to New York City for bigger and better adventures. How touched I always am to see the love they have for our family. They are wonderful people and blessings to have as friends.
Our friend Dave Mikkelsen celebrated his birthday with only the stalwart of heart. We dressed as mimes and went downtown and mimed. Initially we planned to begin at Pioneer Square but felt somewhat invasive when we found we were interrupting a worship rally for a religious faith so via max we headed to Waterfront Park. We mimed a basketball game, tennis, that we were the bowling pins being bowled, cooking, fishing and various other things. A college student stopped us to take a 15 shot series of photos for a class project. Some guys smoking something highly questionable thought we were amazing. The kids came along with us, before we went out Carolina prayed at dinnertime that she might be brave enough "to do the mime" and that she "wouldn't be scared in front of an audience." She did wonderful.

I found Adrianna in my lounge chair picking up where I left off reading the Book of Mormon all on her own.
A glimspe of our flourishing garden, Sunny the valiant garden caretaker by the zuchini and some sweet pumpkins. She and moses are very good at keeping their eyes open each day for the peak ripened produce. Moses loves the yellow string beans. Carolina loves pico de gallo with the tomatoes. They both like the cucumbers and Adrianna....well she likes to pick the green tomatoes.

2008-07-07T22:59:00.000-07:00

We've decided on a baby name. Carolina went to gymnastics and worked on a correct form front roll and cartwheels. Adrianna and Moses played in the wading pool in their underwear. We played and ate lunch at the park. The kids had a babysitter and we went out on the town. They swang in the hammock Eli set up last night. Boy was that a good time. Most of these pictures were taken on the fourth of July. Life is simple and good.

Rockaway Beach, outside of Tillamook, OR

2008-07-05T20:55:00.000-07:00

June 26th, 2008
Treading the trail I smelled sweet and salty rotting air. I felt I had to close my eyes to fully inhale its fresh organic scent. As I walk on the beach i see an abandoned sandpit with two shovels and sticks remaining from a fortress. In my minds eye I imagine the kids playing and creating with the remains. They would have loved it. the sand is white with pepper sprinkles, clean, driftwood logs are everywhere. It's light and warm and breezy. The alcove opening that ended the wooded trail to the beach threshold looked like an entrance into another world, like Narnia. The beaches open expanse is missing Carolina, Moses and Adrianna footprints. I've a hunch Eli would have taken that trail less traveled by with me in hand to find a grove never touched by man for an entrancing kiss. As I just sit I consider running by the spray foam, feeling loofah sand on my feet, walking endlessly breathing each breath fully. I consider how much coastline the earth has. Just this segment seems to go on forever. I am silent with no one to speak with. I've eagerly awaited this retreat alone but realize all the trouble and quips in a days work with the kids...it's all worth it and each moment is more fulfilling with them in it. Everything we experience I want it to all be together. My taste is wet to experience another world in Brazil together. If something happens alone I feel I have no witness. Did I even experience it?

2008-07-05T16:50:00.000-07:00

Our first round of harvest from the peas and the proud bearers!

2008-07-05T16:37:00.000-07:00

Eli took the kids strawberry picking with our friends Kathryn and Grace Mikkelsen while I was at Rockaway Beach with the Relief Society gals. They brought home beautiful red all the way through berries that tasted far better than candy. Adrianna, however, still refused even sampling them for some unknown reason. Boy did she miss out. Some of the pictures are at Mount Tabor Park. I love the extra luminescence the kids seem to have when they are out in real nature.

2008-07-02T20:48:00.000-07:00

I just put the kids to bed and had the second massive run-in with Carolina and her independence of the day and let's just say "I lost my cool" just as much as she did and it sure wasn't pretty. I put her to bed feeling so heavy and confused and at a loss of what to do with discipline so that there is a result and feeling like every extreme measure I have taken hasn't been the right one. Of course I just want the sweetheart in both of us to prevail but we've got room for improvement. I felt kind of ill to my stomach as I checked my email and got some pictures a friend sent over but golly gee, my heart was softened a bit. I decided to pull of my sad, dusty Book of Mormon off the shelf and went into Carolina's room to read a bit to her and had a little heart to heart. Some peace was restored and a feeling that we can start anew tomorrow. No matter what the mistake is I notice a part of me feels like I deserve the guilt I brought upon myself and that I should keep carrying it because I handled the situations so poorly but I consider that simple peace that was brought to my heart for a brief instant and know the simple submission to the Lord is the route he wants me to take and the route that will work. While watching a duet of dancers on TV I felt very moved. The piece was from Adele, maybe that was the name of the song, anyway...They both moved with such synch and brought me to want to know about this difficult trek they were portraying. I could taste the grit in the air and feel the sweat on their bodies. It reminded me of a dance a couple would emote during the great dust bowl where the only way to progress and even survive was to have complete faith in your partner. Recently Eli and I watched Martin Scorsese's documentary on the Rolling Stones-on the other side of the dance continuum Mick Jagger's awkward yet extremely intense energy was just as beautiful. He reminded me of me, a whole lot of passion, maybe not so much skill but who dare challenge him as a dancer. Not I, Without reservation I'd call him true blue through and through. When they sang "It is the evening of the day. I sit and watch the children play" my day passed through my mind sitting on the sidelines at the park. It is not that my kids lives are so much being enriched by my constant presence but selfishly and joyously I get to "watch the tears go by" and to watch them in the priceless moments of their youth. Their song "The Girl With the Faraway Eyes" struck a chord to me about how innate it is for men to esteem women and the root of that is actually because they may recognize a shining daughter of God when they see one...even the rough ones are diamonds to God and you truly can't help but see something there even if you don't know what it is . " Well, you know what kinda eyes she gots." Indeed. That fellow could see the longing in this girls soul through her eyes: her dreams, her hopes and her misgivings. And he was drawn to her for all of it. Wow, am I something special to have one of those fellows that sees all that in me, too.

2008-06-23T21:35:00.000-07:00

www.pdxswap.com

2008-06-12T23:27:00.000-07:00

Koin 6 news came tonight to one of the monthly clothing swaps I like to attend. The 1.30 minute clip will show this coming Wednesday on Channel 6 at 5:00 or you can catch it on the internet. I twirled for a quick pose but wasn't feeling very aggressive so I won't be highlighted. (www.pdxswap.com if you want to get connected with a clothing swap group. ) I think it is just the greatest thing for so many reasons. I am as cheap as they come and get shivers knowing the amazing outfit I am wearing was free of charge. Somehow it is even cuter being free. Regular swap attendance has also given be better perspective on the impermanence of material things. I've gradually learned to let things go that tie me down. Everything clothing wise can be replaced with no strings or risk. If I like something and then decide I don't I can give it away next time I go. At first I had a bit of a hoarder attitude at the swap and wouldn't necessarily bring equally good stuff but the more I give and receive the more of an outpouring of generosity and sharing that fills my well. I feel happier giving good stuff and getting good stuff. All the women that attend have an exciting and warm energy and everyone is respectful and it is ran with order and love. Coming home I left with good feelings and a sweet box of loot.

Sunny Carolina's last day of kindergarten

2008-06-10T16:39:00.000-07:00

History was made today. Oregon's first year of Russian immersion was completed and this class is only the fourth in the United States to have a Russian Immersian class. Yay for Sunny, she was part of it! My favorite part of the year was hearing Sunny sing the many songs she learned in Russian. She tried relentlessly to teach me but you know what they say about an old dog learning new tricks... Some things not to forget: Sunny's first bad note sent home- "Sunny has been having trouble coming in from lunch recess. She hides when the rest of the class is lining up to come indoors and gains an extra five to ten minutes of playtime. Maybe you can help her with this." Another one- "Sunny tried her best all day today. I'm so proud of her. She's become a real student" That was some great growth recalling the first two weeks where she bawled the first two weeks and withdrew into a shell that did not allow her to enjoy learning or anyone else to for that matter. I fretted for her at that time and also worried her teacher wouldn't ever have the chance to see the bright little beacon she is. Her natural leadership qualities had temporarliy been buried and a grumpy frown was the only thing anyone could see. But that time passed and she began to savor the days she had school, sometimes waking me up in the morning but still always wanting full control of the outfit she wore and usually it would be the same orange skirt with frayed edges for the fourth time in a row and the rattiest, faded t-shirt (only short sleeves) no matter what darling and stylish options were in her drawer. She gained great trust and faith in Ms. Z, so much so that when there was a subsititute the office secretary, April saw an awful lot of her as on such days Sunny suddenly had an increase of knee pain, severe indigestion, lockjaw, gout, an acute attack of bursitis and suddenly she would find herself lost in the maze others called school although on days Ms Z was around she knew her way around like a sleuth. After school she would pretend she was Ms. Zakharechenkov, "Miss Z" while Moses would be her student. I've caught her playing with dolls and stuffed animals speaking with what resembled a Russian accent. Occasionally she has told me words in Russian, gathering courage to me more experimentive in the foreign tongue. The second time and last time she didn't earn a sticker for good behavior during the year she gave me a hug when I picked her up as usual but Ms. Z let me know she had not given her the sticker she had on her hand...it had been acquired from a friend and I'm not so naive to think Sunny intended me not finding out. The floods poured as the web of deceipt unraveled. She didn't get the sticker becaue she was angry and colored a big line of red crayon on the classroom carpet out of spite. Nice to see her learn you can make a mistake, make amends and try to earn another sticker the next day. "Mom, you forgot to give me a snack today!" At a multicultural school concert her class performed three songs in Russian and up until stage time she was so excited. Curtain call caused Ms. Gunther to find me in the audience to let me know stage fright had set in for our dear
hero Sunny Carolina. I could see the sparkle through her ters that she desperately wanted to sing the songs she'd worked so hard to learn but there were oh, so many people out there. So I squatted onstage trying to appear just a fly on the stage with the kindergarteners but coming across more as a pregnant oompaloompa but holding her hand she wiped the tars and a bit of calm came back, enough that she was able to begin singing and she sang with vigor and vim. Yes Adrianna in the audience began to lose her composure and I felt split between both sides of the parted seas but we made it through eight minutes and peace was restored knowing she was able to do it. At her recent birthday party she enlivened as her true self, shining Sunny Carolina leading and spreading gleee and bringing fun and spontaneity and freedom to all around her. Kindergarten was a joy for Sunny Carolina.
Our track record of %10 completed assigned homework encoouraged an idea that her classmate Solomon did...his homeowork in the car to and from school. She always has a willing spirit to do her work and enjoys learnign and writing words and being able to sound out words. "I got a prize from filling up my word comprehension turtle today!" "I don't have my pet shop mouse because it was distracting so it got put in the jewel box. Waaaaa!" How was your day today sunny? What did you do today? "Great! I can't remember." The same questions my mom asked me and the familiar noncommittal answers I gave match hers...haunting.