The final wind-down.

Otherwise known as the abrupt end to summer. Can it really be over? It's been a good, but, as always, too short summer. For family home evening last night we enjoyed our tradition of making a list of things (on index cards, to be taped to an unused wall) that we were grateful to do this summer and it was amazing how quickly the ideas flowed! Here are a few(but not all) of our August adventures:
1. We found out that the cat has an owner. And that she was actually a "he". My only hope is that we can find another one that can stand to be buried in kitty litter(by Eve), can tolerate a human tilt-a-whirl (Rachel), and can mutilate mice and leave them on our doorstep. Thanks for the memories, Lera. Er, I mean Rascal.

2. We studied Picasso, Degas and Warhol. Art lessons are a hit.



3. We began harvesting tomatoes. I bought some more at the fruit stand and canned 12 jars of salsa.

4. We hit up "the beach" for Tim's work party. The girls love it there. Goose poop and all.


(I love this picture on so many levels, from the twisted swimsuit strap, to the smushed-down eyes to the superfluous goggles...)





5. My mom brought some other cousins up for a visit. I would like to shout it from the rooftops that I braved our neighborhood swimming pool with 6 children (only 3 of which are reasonably confident swimmers - no lifeguards - this is a BIG deal). Among other things, we hiked the hill at Camel's Back Park. A short jaunt, but not for sissies.

At the bottom:


On the way up:





At the top:



Looking down and Grandma and Livvy, who took another route.



6. And last, but not least we spent many hours doing this:



Ah, I will miss you, summer!

Seatbelt battles.

Consistency. It's a pillar of parenthood. Anytime I get discouraged about how many millions of times I have to teach the same lesson over and over to my children, I must refer to the seatbelt story.

You see, seatbelts used to be a major issue at my house. The kids would neglect buckling them, long after they were capable of doing so themselves. They'd complain it was too hard to buckle, they'd get mad at me for backing out of the driveway before they'd secured it entirely (thus erupting into a full-blown power struggle), they'd simply forget until I reminded them.

We tried a lot of things. All those whose seatbelts were fastened before mom's got a jellybean; we stopped the car and waited until every last resister was buckled in (resulting in many a late arrival); I even accelerated up to about 15 mph a couple of times before slamming on the brakes while those without seatbelts flew forward and hit the seat in front of them. Okay, so that method was a little mean, but we found other ways to "teach them a lesson".

Anyway, my point in mentioning this is that it occured to me the other day that we don't have seatbelt battles anymore. By the time I start backing out of the driveway, I find my kids settled in their seats and I barely have to ask if everyone is buckled in. In fact, I usually find Eve (the only non-seatbelt-fastener) magically buckled in as well by some anonymous do-gooder. It gives me hope. And a little something to be grateful for.

Defeated.

It's been one of those weeks. Yes, I realize we're only on Tuesday but I'm finding myself counting down the hours until school starts. I'm not usually that mom. Yes, I have my fair share of exasperating days. But I typically feel that summer couldn't possibly be over and usually resign myself to sending my kids out the door to meet the challenges of a new school year. I want them home with me. Not today. Tomorrow can't come soon enough. It's a glass is half-empty sort of day.

This morning when I was at the end of my rope (and it was only 10 o'clock!) I said a quick prayer, begging for the strength to refrain from beating my children. And I'm happy to report there are no suspicious bruises at our house. So here's the wisdom I gained as I composed myself.

One, I am a results-driven person. If something needs fixin' I get on the ball and take care of it. Except that kids don't really need fixin'. They need loving guidance. They need to slow-cook for a while on all the knowledge I impart to them before becoming the obedient, selfless, responsible (etc., etc.,) children I hope they can become. I've got to get over the here-and-now and focus on the long-term.

Second, because I am results-driven, I tend to nag. I like to think of my nagging as gentle reminders. You see, I really want them to succeed! If their rooms aren't cleaned to a "t" they won't get a magnet on their chart! And I'll have to deny them a privilege! In reality, I need to let the consequences speak for themselves and keep my big fat mouth shut. I have a feeling this won't be the last time I have to learn this lesson, sadly.

Anyway, I don't post this to be self-deprecating. I know I'm a good mom. I do a lot of things right. But each of us has some serious deficiencies in our parenting and these just happen to be a couple of mine. And it doesn't hurt to be able to read over a record of some of my failures so that I can measure my progress. And remember that bad days can be overcome. But only when school starts. (Kidding! I'm kidding.)

A new day.

Today I received word that no longer will my services as second counselor in the Relief Society be needed. Apparently, honing my piano skills these past few months has paid off and I have been asked to serve as Primary Pianist. The bishop almost laughed out loud when I told him it was my dream calling. I think he expected a gloomier reaction - I mean leadership in the women's organization does seem a bit more glamourous than hiding behind a piano in a roomful of antsy children. But, seriously. I'm thrilled!

True, I have grown spiritually these past two years in a way that only a calling that stretched me could have prompted. Lessons learned that can only come through service in the kingdom. I am so grateful for that. Sacrifice brings SO many blessings. The word "rewarding" doesn't even touch what my experience has been.

And yet, this heavy-duty calling became mine when Eve was a mere 8 months old - I think I was on the brink of feeling normal again - whatever normal is possible with four kids six and under. I was willing. But scared. And it's been hard. I can't even list all the things that have been shelved because of the hours I have dedicated to carrying out my responsibilities. And I would be lying if I said I didn't walk out of the bishop's office emitting the hugest sigh of relief ever. In my life. And running over in my mind all the things I would now be able to do now that I have freed up loads of time in my schedule. Like cleaning baseboards. What joy! What bliss!

Or playing on the floor with my baby (now two and a half) to do a puzzle. Or two. Or three.
If I wanted to get really wild and crazy, I might even watch a smidgen of American Idol. Is that show still on? I haven't watched TV in two years. Seriously.

In all reality - I feel like I just got a raise. And just as when one gets a raise, he should figure out what to do with the increase in funds so it doesn't get spent away unnoticed, I want to harness those extra hours I will now have and allocate them to fulfilling purposes. Otherwise, I will just end up watching some stupid show(s) on the tube without which I could live out my days in complete satisfaction.

And speaking of cleaning...

Tim came home for lunch the other day to find three out of four girls cleaning (one guess as to which one was not?). I suppose he thought it was cute because he grabbed the camera.

Feeling fancy.

Apparently, tutus are the flavor of the week.







Even the cleaning lady's wearing one.

Pets, pets, and more pets.

All of sudden we're an animal family. Tim and I have always said we don't raise animals, we raise little girls. And we've held to it. I mean, how many mess-makers does one need in a home? Well, the girls each earned a "free" goldfish from the library's summer reading program and last week we redeemed the coupons. Even Anna threw in a buck for a couple of extra ones and here they are, happy as larks, holding their new pets.



Turns out, goldfish need a heck of a lot more space than the 1 gallon bowl the pet store saleswoman sold us. So here we are, a week and a half later - all six goldfish - dead. Anyone surprised? Our girls can now check facilitating the untimely death of a goldfish off their bucket list.

Onto our next animal. A few months ago we entertained the idea of raising a couple of kittens to catch the mice that love to eat my vegetable garden. At the time, I wasn't ready to take the leap. The kids still haven't forgiven me for making the executive decision. Last Sunday a stray cat wandered into the space behind our house while the girls were playing. Next thing I knew, we were feeding it tunafish. A day later I found myself walking out of Petco with a box of kitty litter, a bag of catfood, and a flea collar. Needless to say, the cat's here to stay. I'm not ready to invite the girl in, but she's growing on me. May she slaughter hundreds of mice. Pronto.





And finally, onto Lily's favorites: