Great to be Eight

Sometime over the last 8 years, when Jack I weren’t looking, this little munchkin

Became accountable for her actions.

So we loaded up our covered wagon, then boarded a Southwest flight for Utah, where she could be baptized with her beloved cousin Julia.

They are two peas in a pod, that Jolie & Julia, and have been planning a joint baptism since they were babies. Here they are in 2004, discussing the details.

It was a beautiful, simple day, filled with family, love, the Spirit, and good food, which I happen to consider the four elements of a happy life.

Comic relief was provided by Cal, who could not have been more excited if we were at the Super Bowl, and interrupted the silence with a rally for his boy cousins to check out the sins being washed away. There were also a few tears, as the Bishop bore a heartfelt testimony that family members from beyond the veil were in attendance.

My favorite moment of the day was this one, which I captured on my phone just after she came out of the water

For that brief moment, she was my newborn again. Fresh, clean, perfect. Taking her very first steps into the next phase of life. It broke my heart a little to know that these steps would be bigger than the last, and that they would carry her further away from her dependence on Mom and Dad.

We love you Jojo, and are so proud of your decision to follow the example of Jesus Christ and be baptized.  The last 8 years have brought us so many moments of joy. But today, I dare say, topped them all.

Disney World

Memorial Pay

This is Second Lieutenant Phil Dana

In 1944, on his 17th mission over Germany, the B-24 bomber he was piloting was shot down. After losing two engines and then fuel, the plane crash landed in England.  Phil's last act was to shut down electrical operations, thus preventing the bomber from explosion, and saving the lives of four of his comrades. 

Phil himself did not survive.  He was 26. 

These,

are Phil's great-great nieces and nephews, in 2012, in Northern Virginia.

They are too young to appreciate the impact of Phil's sacrifice, or the sacrifices of so many like him, but they do understand that he's our hero, and that it's our duty to honor him.

Today, honoring him meant flagging down cars in the blistering heat, and selling lemonade to benefit Wounded Warriors Project.

We really did witness the best of America today, seeing so many people stop to speak with our kids, contribute way more than the cost of a chocolate chip cookie, and wish one another a happy Memorial Day.  

When the last cupcake was gone, and the ice (and children) had melted in the heat, we totaled the donations.

Thanks to the efforts of our dear friends the Smoots, and the big hearts and open wallets of neighbors, friends and complete strangers, the kids raised

$579.75


(!)


 ❤



every penny of which will benefit injured service men and women.

Grateful today to be a mother, a great niece, and an American.

Musing on Motherhood

I am a hopeless list maker. To me, a to-do list is so much more than an agenda. It is the promise of a gloriously productive day, and a delicious feeling of accomplishment.

I started making to-do lists when I was twelve, jotting everything from homework to wardrobe plans into a spiral notebook that became the map around which I would navigate my day. Every night before bed the list was carefully reviewed, and accomplished items crossed off with dramatic flair, like a knight thrusting the final stab into a smoldering, defeated dragon.

Twenty years and an infinite number of spiral notebooks later I am still making to-lists, although recently they seem to have encountered an insurmountable problem.

The problem now with my to-do lists, is that I am a mother.

Every morning I wake to the sound of my alarm, the sight of a new list, and the motivation to tackle it.

Just as soon as I finish nursing the baby.

Once the baby is fed, I’m ready to go. Right after I pack the girls’ lunches, that is. And fix their hair. And walk them to the bus. I promise myself that I’ll start my list as soon as I get back from bus. And put away the breakfast dishes, of course. And sort the laundry. And comb the gum out of Cal’s hair. Then! Then I’ll be ready to go. Feed the baby again. And pick the playdough out of the carpet. And reattach Barbie’s head. After that, and grocery shopping, I’ll be so productive. Wow, is the bus back already? Let me just get Jolie’s homework started, then I’ll finally get myself started. Actually, I’ll get dinner started. And baths. And the bedtime routine…

I nurse the baby again, and collapse into bed myself. The day has ended, and my to-do list remains untouched. It is not the smoldering, defeated dragon I hoped it would be. Rather, it is still breathing its fire and I am the defeated knight, incapable of rising to the challenge.

Or am I.

I look again at my to-do list, and I imagine it years from now. It hasn’t changed, but everything around it has. There is far less laundry to be done, and no more messy piles of toys. Plastic dinosaurs no longer roam my couch, and my cell phone isn't hiding in a box of Goldfish crackers. Years from now, invitations to tea parties have ceased, and Eddie’s hungry cry has been replaced with quiet. Footed pajamas have been outgrown, bunk beds given away, and outside, the school bus passes without stopping.

Years from now there is no more “Mom, I’m hungry!” “Mom, this hurts!” “Mom, watch this!” “Look at me!” “Fix this!” “Play with me!” “Read to me!” “Change me!” “Carry me!” “Help me!”

“Mom, I love you.”

Motherhood is discovering that when I wake up tomorrow, my to-do list will still be there. But a day in the life of my children will be gone, and I will never get it back.

Margaret Thatcher once said, “Look at a day when you are supremely satisfied at the end. It's not a day when you lounge around doing nothing; it's when you've had everything to do, and you've done it."

Today, I had everything to do.

And I did it.

Today, I was a mother.

10 weeks

Who do you think you are

collecting your jar of hearts?

Sunday Morning