In the Absence of Frosty Things

Today was the last day of January and today was good for boys.

It was good for the preferential treatment of sandals.

It wasn't bad for t-shirts either.

Today was good for Piglet (though she wasn't very into smiling).

It was good for Piglet's mom, as well as for the dog and the chickens.

Today was good for vitamin D absorption and egg production.

It was good for those who struggle with wintertime blues.

Don't tell Mother Nature, but she seems to have forgotten something.

Don't tell her, because I quite appreciate her forgetfulness; it is what made today so good.

S'more About S'mamish

One brisk November afternoon, I bundled the baby in her outdoor Piglet attire and headed to the end of the driveway to await Nolan's bus.

I, myself, perform the end-of-the-driveway-waiting-ritual every weekday afternoon. Sometimes the baby joins me, if she's not busy napping and it's not too cold. Sometimes Gerret joins me too, if he's in a good mood or has had a prior engagement in the hen house collecting eggs.

On this particular afternoon, it was just me and the baby (by some miracle, Gerret was taking a nap). We were attempting to simultaneously glean some vitamin D while shielding ourselves from the November wind. Mostly, we were standing in solitude at the end of our driveway, just watching for a yellow dot in the distance.

Our road is quiet. Typically, I don't encounter any cars, bikes, buggies, pedestrians, or otherwise in the ten minutes I spend at the end of the driveway, so I was surprised to see a black dot in the distance, slowly making its way in our direction, gradually growing bigger, taking the form of a black horse pulling a black covered wagon. As it neared our spot on the road, I could tell the driver was a plain-clothed woman wearing a black bonnet. Next to her were two blonde children wearing equally plain clothes. I watched them intently as the ground between the buggy and I diminished.

The Amish woman must have been watching me with just as much curiosity, because suddenly I realized that the ground was still being lost when it should have already begun to be regained in their passing. Instead of passing, the horse was rapidly pulling its heavy load right at me!!! The woman and I reacted at the same moment; I held my baby tightly and leaped backwards, she pulled the reins on the horse, which sharply turned back to the correct path down the road.

"We almost got ran over by an Amish buggy!" I whispered to Auburn as my heart's thud sounded over the clip-clop of the horses. "I think your Piglet suit distracted her!"

Thankfully, we lived to tell the story. Maybe after I become good friends with my Amish neighbors, one of them will admit (in utter embarrassment) to almost pummeling me, and then we can laugh together about the whole experience. Wouldn't it be fun to laugh with an Amish friend?

3 Months With a Daughter

These three months of mothering these three children have been wild and crazy and wonderful. It feels like I've finally found the right groove. At long last, I'm becoming the mother I always hoped to be -not perfect, not always fun, not always patient-- but satisfyingly more so. My love for my children has bloomed into something that fills my whole. I am more compassionate, more patient, more understanding. I laugh more. I have a desire to play more. I miss Nolan more when he's gone at school. I think it's a divine gift. Maybe I've matured enough to handle the rigors of motherhood more gracefully. Maybe I'm more mellow. Maybe I've just been needing a sweet daughter.

It really is different to have a daughter. You couldn't have convinced me of this before. Before, a baby was a baby, a child a child, (whatever colors you dressed them up in), but now I have a very palpable feeling for my daughter that is not like the ones I have for my sons. There are such intense urges to protect her and help her understand her infinite worth.

The world is so destructive to women. I don't want it to touch her. Women are either shunned, hidden away, enslaved, dominated, ill-priviledged, or they are adorned, worshipped for their bodies, paid for their bodies, seen for their bodies, worth only as much as their bodies are valued at. It makes me so worried for my infant daughter and my young sisters. I don't want them to believe what the world tells them -that they are less capable, weak, only worth the capabilities and aesthetics of their bodies.

Even in a religious culture, it's easy as a woman to believe that you are only worth your ability to create and nurture. In this belief system, unmarried women feel inadequate, infertile women feel left out, and even married women with children feel defined by their ability to homemake and raise babies.

I ache for my daughter to rise above these two creeds. I hope she will see herself as an individual daughter of God with her own unique gifts, talents, thoughts, emotions, desires, and ideas. I don't want her to feel like there is a mold she has to fit. She is her own mold. I want her to know in her heart that she is not her body. She is more than her body, much more.

Happy Thirteen, Auntie!

I was fourteen and a half when heaven finally granted my wish for a sister. She was, by far, the most precious little being I had ever encountered, so I took all of my wannabe-mother, giddy-teenager, impelleded-by-cute tendencies out on her.

I dressed her up like she was my doll. I photographed her like she was a model. I sang to her because she couldn't escape it. I sat her on my lap while I played the piano. I cuddled her, rocked her, soothed her and even napped with her in my bed.

Then she advanced to walking, opening doors, and climbing on kitchen counters. I forgave her when she left cartons of ice cream melting on my bedroom floor. I didn't complain too much about her getting into my things. I didn't hold the broken belongings or missing pieces against her. I treasured the scribbles in my books, drool on the hardcovers, torn pages from my scriptures, smiley faces in my journal. They were evidence of my sister; evidence that I had a sister.

I had a sister!
Though it wasn't exactly as I had envisioned --sharing secrets and clothes, enjoying music together, liking the same boys, and having the same friends-- it was different in a good way. I learned something about patience and I laughed a lot. There was a keen sense of satisfaction in teaching her new things, helping her walk, improving her vocabulary in sometimes humorous ways, watching her discover the world. There were special experiences wrapped in witnessing her growth and being a part of it in a way that not many siblings remember. It has been the opportunity of a lifetime to be Olivia's big sister.

And now she's thirteen (THIRTEEN!!!), as creative as ever, perceptive and mature, brilliant, intelligent, talented, and growing ever more beautiful. To make Livi's birthday a little more memorable, her favorite niece arranged to turn her own thirteen on the same day (thirteen weeks that is). So happy 13th to my sweet little sister and my lovely little baby!

Little Miss

Mr. Pookman and The Number Four

PTB and I spent the night putting up decorations, wrapping presents, and making the green batman cake. When Gerret saw the four on the wall the next morning he wanted to know what number it was.

"Well, how old are you today?" We asked him.

"Three," he said.

"No, you were three, but today's your birthday, so how old are you now?"

Eventually, we got him to admit he was four, but then he turned back to the wall and asked what the number was.

We went to church the morning of his birthday and everyone who encountered him exclaimed, "Happy birthday!" to which he echoed with a hearty "Happy birthday!" --a custom which he learned from his dad. Then the person would inevitably ask, "How old are you now?" And he would either reply, "Three" with a big goofy grin or "I don't know" with a quizzical expression. That's my Pookman. What a character.

Half Day Hike

Nolan was dismissed from school at noon today. It was nice to have some hours of sunshine with him in the peak of Winter. At Nolan's request, we fit in a late afternoon hike through the woods in my parents' back yard and around the pond in my grandmother's back yard. Gerret opted to stay safely and warmly indoors while we enjoyed the company of a cuddly baby, an energetic dog, and Aunt Elise. The purpose of our hike was discovery. My boy is in training to be a scientist. His heart's desire is to study the products and processes of nature. I just like fresh air and the fellowship of trees, but I tried the best I could to help him discover.

After collecting a pine cone, dried up milkweed, and a feather, watching a flock of Canadian Geese headed North, and throwing the largest rocks we could find into the frozen pond, we gave up trying to crack the ice and tuned into our complaining fingers and noses. It was time to gather in. By this time it was just Nolan and me. Elise had long since returned to the house ahead of us to prepare hot chocolate, the energetic dog had followed her nose across the field and back into the woods, and the craggy terrain had lulled the baby to sleep.

So we turned back; I struggled along with the stroller and Nolan stumbled along through the tall grass. A second troop of geese passed over head, again heading North. Don't they realize Winter has yet to really take hold? Seeing as it's having a late start this year, the scheduled winter season has been extended to June. I guess the birds haven't been notified yet. I was thinking this as I stopped to watch them glide silently through the sky. It reminded me of one of my favorite movies, Winged Migration. I pointed out their V formation to my scientist. He was interested and wondered why they fly in a V. Not being smart myself, but having a smart phone in my pocket, I was able to satisfy his inquiry.

Canadian Geese use a V formation to conserve energy and for visual assurance. Now I know.

30 years 2 days

This is my boy after 30 years of Earth exploration:

Saturday was a hectic day for a birthday. He even had to go into work for part of it. I regret that I did not make it more noteworthy, even if he didn't want a cake and was indifferent about any type of celebrating. I wish that all of the fireworks and streamers, the scrumtious food, and amazing gifts made it beyond my imagination, because the seventh of January happens to be my favorite day. PTB happens to be my most favorite person and my very best friend.

From the Archives

The following comes from July (when pioneering the mountains and plains was more on our minds).

Before naptime, Nolan decides to draw a picture of the items needed for a trip "further than the Pioneers". He and Beagle are headed out on the journey to trump all journeys. So Nolan is explaining to us about this expedition and how arduous it will be, using his detailed drawing to help in his description. As Nolan goes on and on, Gerret finally interrupts in typical Pook fashion, "Uhh. Nowin? Can I go on the trip, too?"
Nolan's response is immediate, "No Gerret. This trip is not for you. You would never survive, because there will be no candy."

Conversation Over Crafts

Whilst gluing together foam gingerbread houses and painting wooden livestock, Nolan asks me, "How come your shirt isn't dirty?".

I appraise my spotless shirt and then his (brand new) opposite of spotless shirt --it's spotted. Red spots.

"Because I'm being careful," I answer continuing to glue foam candy beside the door.

"Boys aren't careful," he generalizes.

I steal a glance at his brother who somehow has managed to be marred by paint even though he has only been using glue.

"Look how messy I am," Nolan continues, pointing out his spotted shirt.

I look up again. Oh! his hands, they are more than spotted! And Oh! The table, it now sports splotches of red, green, and blue. Nolan follows my gaze as I take in his hands, the table, his shirt, The Pook all smothered in varying degrees of paint and glue. It only bothers me momentarily. Our stain removal regimen is known to be successful on grease, grass, and diaper blow-outs up the back and down the arm holes. I've become accustomed to my title "Mother" and my subtitle "Cleaner of Everything Under the Sun".

Nolan, on the other hand, seems to be realizing for the first time that he makes messes (hugely understated) and seems somewhat surprised and embarrassed. I can see the gears turning as his eyes dart from spot to splotch.

Finally, he concludes, "Well, I'm working hard. I bet when Joseph Smith worked hard he got messy."

Reminiscence in the Waning of a Year

The victory prize for enduring 2010 was 2011.

2011 was thrilling. 2011 was relaxing. 2011 was fulfilling. 2011 was fun.

It was one of my most satisfying years. This is why:

•We raised 12 chickens from day old hatchlings to egg-laying hens. It hasn't been entirely easy or pretty, but there is a certain satisfaction of watching them from my bathroom window pecking around, doing chicken things. There is an even more certain satisfaction in collecting and consuming their eggs. The variety in eggshell color is superb. Lovely shades of brown mostly, but Chonko-Boppo lays beautiful green eggs! They are very cool.

•Cocoa became a part of our family in January. Our year of owning a dog has been one full of opportunities for learning and growth. She has been absolutely faithful, obedient, ready to have fun, calm, mature, quiet. We are slowly learning how to be the same. In more ways than we originally expected, our first family dog has been a blessing.

•And we added another cat. That was probably an irrational blunder on my part, but our boys are very attached, so Rocket is a permanent addition. (I guess.)

•We spent a few July days on the banks of the Atlantic. Is the ocean a similar experience for all people? It changes my entire being. I feel more alive and able to breathe deeply. Visiting the ocean makes my body feel healthy, jubilant, younger even. Aside from an infestation of sand fleas, my boys also had a wonderful time

•In the same vacation, we also visited dear friends, which meant so much to us. We felt so fortunate to be able to travel just part of a day to spend a few days in their company. They are some of our most treasured friends. Sometimes, living in the country, I feel extremely lonely for good friends. This short visit really, really filled a need.

•This was the first full year of owning and living in our first house. I love our little old house. When we return home from somewhere and enter between the fence lining our drive, my heart swells a little to look up at our house and think of being welcomed in. Have I mentioned before that we live in the country? I can't explain how I love it here. Today I ran a couple miles down our road with Cocoa and I thought for the millionth time how I love this place. It is beautiful and quiet and peaceful. I feel similarly here to the way I feel at the ocean. A bit more alive. Quicker to smile. Like my heart is completely full and over-flowing. I still marvel at it and I hope to for as long as we're here.

•We bought a van at a good price from my grandma and found ourselves a two-vehicle family. What a relief it has been to me to have freedom to come and go! Even when I don't leave our house for days at a time, it is liberating just knowing I could.

•Probably most significantly was the expectation and arrival of our third child and first daughter. She has carried with her an added measure of joy into our family. I feel more comfortable, adept, and relaxed as a mother. I think I've been better prepared to just enjoy. The entire experience of growing, birthing, and nurturing this new little one has been deeply soul satisfying. I'm relatively young. Most people I went to high school with are only beginning to think about marriage and an even smaller portion are beginning to have children. I'm not only an anomaly for a person my age, but also for a parent in NY. Most are only having one child, maybe two. I stroll into any public place toting my three children and I'm sure to elicit at least one well-intended comment about how incredible it is that I have so many kids or how overwhelmed I must be or how absolutely adorable my children are (accompanied by a look of bewilderment as they make an obvious head-count).

We purchased our very own piano and later in the year were given a second. So now we're a two-car-two-piano family. I'm even more pleased about the pianos than I am about the car.

•My last thought about this year is a reflection on something I learned.

I learned that I am a daughter of God. Silly, because it's something I was taught for my whole life and even something that I truly believed, but it finally really means everything to me. It says everything about who I am.

I think I had an identity crisis after I became Nolan's mom and then Gerret's mom. Maybe it started when I became Patrick's wife. Maybe it was there even before that. I had grown up preparing to be a wife and a mother. That's really what I wanted most to be. It was all I wanted to be, actually. That was how I identified myself even before I got married at the ripe old age of twenty. Over the course of being a wife and a mother for seven and five years respectively, I felt somewhat lost or missing something about myself. This year, I finally understood why. I finally understood that I am not a wife and a mother. Well, I mean I am and I love to fulfill these roles, but they don't define who I am. You're probably thinking, "Duh!" and that's actually what I thought once I understood, but it very truly was an epiphany. I finally feel at peace with who I am.

I am a daughter of a loving heavenly father and that means everything to me. It says something about what I already am, it says something about what I can become, and it gives me direction, hope, and a measure of peace that I hadn't been able to grasp before this was in my heart --the reality and meaning of my identity. It is my foundation, who and what I am at my very core. Everything else that I am is in addition to this. If I wasn't anything else, if I hadn't met my husband, if I wasn't able to bear children, if I worked in a career that I was ill-suited for, or even if I had a career that absolutely satisfied me, if I was orphaned at a young age, or even homeless, I would still be a daughter of God and my purpose to become like him (at a painstaking pace) would still be my sole purpose. And that understanding has really shaped my year.

Coincidentally, the most recent lesson for my young woman in church was this very idea. Though it wasn't even my day to teach, I had to speak up and even broke down in tears because my desire for this girl to understand it was so great. I almost wanted to shake her shoulders and shout, "This is not a trite phrase! It is not something sweet to say! It means EVERYTHING!" Or at least it can mean everything, if you let it and I am letting it.