Berry-pickin'.

We've had daily harvests of these for about a month now. Don't judge them by their size - they are sweeter than anything that comes out of a grocery store - even before they reach the ultimate ripeness. I no longer get after the kids for jumping the gun on picking them - Costco doesn't hold a candle to these suckers on flavor.

I put Anna's berry-picking skills to the test by taking her (and Eve) to a local ranch that allows you to pick your own. She was ecstatic, though her remark comparing herself to a slave didn't encourage me much. Turns out she would have done quite well circa 1860. (Out of respect to the slaves, I had to remind her that the one hour we spent in the fields was a cake walk compared with slave labor, especially when you consider the hay ride that transported us to the field - but then again, we were paying from our own pockets to sweat it out in the strawberry patch).

Well now, here's the little slave herself!


I'd say this one got her money's worth!


And now we've got 12 pints worth of homemade strawberry jam to show for it. This was the first batch.


I just might dub this the "Summer of Canning". I've got 90 or so empty quarts just waiting for peaches, pears and apples to fill them in the fall. Until then it's strawberry jam galore.

GATE 101.

So, it turns out Anna's pretty smart. Have I mentioned this before? The school invited us to have her tested for GATE, and, though I've got some issues with labeling, in general, I figured, what the heck, let's just see how she tests and make decisions from there. Confirmed: she's smart as a whip. Smart enough that she qualified for a highly gifted program within the school district. So here were my concerns:
1. I hate labeling. What is "gifted" anyway? Isn't every child gifted in some way? Will placing my child in a highly gifted program give her cause to claim superiority over other kids her age? What if she falls short, academically speaking, some day? Will her identity be so tied to her intellect that it could be catastrophic for her?
2. Anna is shy. It took her almost a full year to adjust to kindergarten, socially-speaking. Having her transfer schools at this point, when her fear of change paralyzes her so, could be scary.
3. The school is a 25 minute one-way daily commute. Yes, there are buses, but, putting my second-grader on a bus for 2 hours a day does not exactly sit well with me. Besides, I already have complaints about the amount of time the public school system monopolizes - now I want them to keep her away for an extra two hours? Hmm. Driving her to and from school, every day, while I have a kindergartener in our neighborhood school didn't sound fun, either.

This whole process was enlightening for me, really. As I considered Anna's cognitive talents, I began to look at them differently. You see, I had always wanted her to be "normal". I sometimes downplayed her abilities, thinking that she could be smart and still succeed in the average class setting. And, while her teachers did an excellent job at differentiating various learners, I still feel that the tendency is to teach to the middle. Also, I see that her struggles with peers are a byproduct of the fact that she feels uncomfortable in her own skin. I mean, doing division and reading Harry Potter in first grade doesn't make you a hit with everyone else. So, at the risk of oversimplifying just how much research we did, and how many options we considered, and how much prayer went into our decision to figure out the best way to help Anna find joy in pursuing this particular talent of hers, we've decided to enroll her in a school across town with classes for highly gifted children. Fortunately, another girl from her grade (whom we know quite well) will be attending with her, thus alleviating concerns number 2 and 3. Wish us luck.

The spread.

I have a love/hate relationship with dinner. I hate that I have it hanging over my head every, single, stinkin' day. Yet I truly enjoy cooking. I love that I can convince my children to help me out in the kitchen. But then it stinks when they still won't touch the final product. I hate that there are so many steps to getting dinner on the table - planning, shopping, defrosting, prepping, etc. But, ah, when it's done - it's like I'm sitting at a restaurant and each delectable menu item costs around 50 cents per serving. Cooking dinner makes me feel fulfilled as a wife and mother - that I'm doing my part to encourage health, frugality and family conversation. But the conversation part sometimes competes with the din of me barking at the kids to stop fighting over who gets to sit next to the baby, to stop making noise during the prayer, or to please stay in your seat or I'll, I'll...
All in all, when I get it right and the menu is planned a couple of weeks in advance, the meat is defrosted by morning, the prepwork is done early so we can take a 4:30 trip to the pool, the finishing touches take a mere 15 minutes, the children participate every step of the way, and the husband oohs and aahs over my culinary skills, it's quite exhilarating, if I do say so myself. But since only 50% of that happens maybe 2-3 days out of the week and the rest of the time we're resigned to a grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup (vegetarian, anyone?) I'll settle for getting something on the table. Sure beats McDonalds.

Swim, Anna, swim!

She approaches everything with apprehension. Perhaps it's one of those benefits of being the oldest, the trail-blazer. Man, it's a tough life. Sometimes I wonder why she, so talented in many ways, had to come first. Her self-consciousness makes me a raving lunatic. She contemplates every move she makes, every word she says, as if it will be open to criticism. And perhaps, as the first child in the family, with parents-in-training, experiencing everything for the first time, she has grown accustomed to being critiqued unnecessarily. Poor firstborn.
We signed her up for swim team this summer - by far the cheapest option for the number of hours she will spend in the pool - and use of the slides at the city pool on a weekly basis. Who can beat that?
Once I got her to step out of her towel and into the open air - in front of boys from her school class, no less - she took off! Her nerves still get to her before swim meets but it appears that all the reminders that life is about doing hard things are not falling on deaf ears. In fact, she dives right on in and gives it her best shot. I'm so proud of her - that she's learning to conquer her fears - slowly. Very slowly. So slowly it's painful. By the time she's eighteen and we shove her out the door, maybe she will have learned to ask for directions. Or answer a question. Maybe.

Ah, for the love of siblings..

My brother Will left to serve an LDS mission today. This past Sunday I sat with my entire family and watched a slideshow he and my dad had put together composed of pictures of the past 19 years of Will's life. He being the youngest in our clan, the slideshow included a number of photos with one of us holding or caring for him as a child. We simply adored him, as only siblings can.
Yesterday I watched my own children and their complete adoration of their youngest sibling. Anna teaching her new words, Rachel pushing her on a backyard swing, Lily fetching her blanket and binky when she fell and hurt herself. Their loving care seemed so intuitive, unforced and genuine - and I took a moment to express gratitude for my sweet family and for the opportunity that they have to love and serve one another. Then again, what's not to love?

If I wanted rain, I'd be living in Seattle.

I don't know what's been with the weather here, but I'm in denial. It's June, for crying out loud! I've taken the kids to the park for the past two weeks - in the rain. We went home last week and drank a cup of hot chocolate. Truly, I adore the rain, but when you've got four young kids bursting with energy, it gets to be a big bummer after a while. No matter - we've managed to squeeze in a bit of fun.


Lily and I went on a date to Hello Dolly.


Our family took a trip to visit my family here. Breathtaking, isn't it?


Anna sang in her first school music program.



We released the butterflies.







We even managed a family trip to the zoo. Mother Goose was the highlight of the day.

I feel stretched beyond belief right now - but am so grateful that somehow it all (well, at least the important stuff) gets done. I love my life. I might love it even more if it involved a little less rain.

Another year, another joy school grad.

Have I ever mentioned how much I love teaching my kids preschool? This was my fourth year and my second graduate and boy was I proud!

Lily doesn't just "got joy", she is joy! I think that many people view this age, the one where tantrums abound, tears flow freely, and defiance is the name of the game as the one where parents are pulling their hair out. Not me. I adore preschoolers - I am thrilled to have this precious time to be their teacher all day, every day. Congratulations Lily! Now, off to kindergarten with you!

One foot in front of the other.

I ran my first 5K this morning. I say "ran", but I mean "walk and jog". It took me 38 minutes. But I did it! All while repeating in my mind "I hate running, I hate running, I hate running." You runners may assume that my attitude contributes to the drudgery but I assure you, even when in the best shape of my life - I despised running. Loathed it. I can even trace it back to my early elementary school days when I about hyperventilated every time we had to run for our physical fitness test. As if lugging skin and bones a couple of times around a 400 meter track was really that hard. Well, it was. Clearly, my body's not cut out for it. It doesn't stop me from doing it, but I seriously don't get the whole runner's high phenomenon. Put me in a pool or on a bike and I'm happy. I run only because I love to inflict pain upon myself. Makes me feel accomplished or something. Triathlon, anyone?

Post edit: I read this post after the fact and realized that I had conveniently omitted the line about how I never really ran a competitive 5K, it was just a jaunt on the treadmill during a routine workout. Hmm. Sorry.

What? You don't have TV?

I got a call from a salesman for satellite TV a few weeks ago. After the initial greeting, our conversation went something like this:
Him: Which do you subscribe to, cable or satellite TV?
Me: None.
Him: What? (incredulously) How many TV's do y'all have?
Me: One.
Him: Well, what do you watch?
Me: We've got rabbit ears, so that buys us a few channels. And movies. We watch movies.
Him: Wow. Really?
Me: Yep.
Him: Well, what do you y'all do up there?
Me: Uh... we work, spend time outside playing with our kids, go biking, hiking, swimming...
Him: Wow. (pause) How many kids do you have?
Me: Four.
Him: Oh my. So I guess this is the end of the road for you guys, huh?
Me: Maybe.
Him: Wow. Well, I suppose you wouldn't be interested in anything I have to offer, then, huh?
Me: Not so much. But thanks for calling!

Strange. I mean, I knew I was a little weird, but seriously, is having four kids and not watching TV so completely backwards? Nevermind. After experiencing this man's complete bewilderment over my answers, I don't want to know.

Are you an extrovert?

A couple of weeks ago I had a startling revelation: being introverted and self-assured are not mutually exclusive. You see, in discussing my daughter, who cringes at the thought of introducing herself to others, I immediately judged her as lacking self-confidence. Not necessarily true.

I recalled moving from Texas to Utah the summer before my sophomore year of high school. I had met a few people at church the Sunday before school began and was lucky enough to score a ride with them my first morning. Unfortunately, I didn't know anyone who had the same lunch schedule as I. So, that first day, I walked into the lunchroom, scoured it for a group of people who looked reasonably nice, walked straight up to them, introduced myself, and asked if I could join them. It seemed the thing to do - definitely preferable to sitting all by myself - I'd rather die than do something so conspicuous.

As I retold this story to Tim, he countered it by expressing that(at least in high school) he'd rather have died than approach a group of people he didn't know - fearing the rejection that might result from that sort of interaction. Sitting alone? At least you're not putting yourself out there, making yourself vulnerable to the whims of a few high-schoolers.

I could see his point. And I laughed that all these years I thought that because I could extend myself to others it somehow meant that I was self-confident (and it's likely how it appeared to others). Really, though. Both of us were silly, insecure high schoolers. One extroverted, one introverted. I found fear and embarrassment in sitting alone in a high school cafeteria and he found his in facing potential rejection. Revelation, I tell you.