Overly ambitious.

I had big plans for this summer.  I was going to teach my kids everything.  Underwater basket-weaving included.

They're the same plans I have every summer.  I even make out an adorable Excel spreadsheet mapping out our daily schedule (color-coded, of course) replete with homeschooling plans, training in practical skills, outdoor play, trips to the pool, exercise, play dates, field trips and so on.

Reality sets in about the third week.  My plans don't go to pot, but, about then I realize that I am dealing with four distinct personalities.  Girls who actually have opinions of their own.  And so I learn to be flexible.

Most days we manage to get chores done, some outdoor play, an outing (does Winco count?), and often a visit to the pool.  We've also tackled cooking class with friends for Anna and Lily, sewing school with friends for Lily, weekly piano lessons, and an occasional art or music lesson.  Any other academics have all but gone out the window.  But that's not really an issue with my kids, so I'm not too torn up about that fact.  So it turns out that I'm still insane, just as not as insane as originally expected.

Fortunately, this summer has been full of the stuff of which childhood is made: an ample supply of popsicles in the freezer, building treehouses, playing in the park, whiling away hours with one's nose in a book (except for me - I'm crossing my fingers I get time for that during the school year), watching the clouds go by, and riding bikes with neighbors in the cul de sac.  It's been delightful (minus the fighting, but no one's perfect).

I had a moment last week when I realized that we only have three weeks left of summer (excluding the two we will be spending stuck in a minivan traveling half the country together) and I was a bit saddened.  Saddened, and relieved.  I love having my kids home all to myself.  I love not having to be out the door by 8:30 every day.  I love that we've made it this far into summer and I don't even have to feel guilty about the amount of media my kids are consuming (we've kept it at school year levels - easily!).  But I would be lying if I wasn't just a bit tickled that I will not have to drag all four children to the grocery store (and everywhere else, for that matter) in just over a month. 

So, despite falling short of my goals, I would venture to say that, so far, this summer has been a success.  Now bring on the 55+ hour road trip!  Can't wait to report on it.

And now, just a few pictures for kicks:

Aw, they really do love each other.

Anna, working on a skirt.  The blind leading the blind, I tell you.

Downtown, at the farmer's market.  The girls look simply thrilled to be there, huh?

Feed them a few donuts and allow them a good romp in the fountain and they perk right up.

This is the life...

But it's the latest style, mom.

My girls are wonders at orchestrating imaginary worlds together.  Our playroom doubles as a school, a marketplace, the savannah, and, most recently, the hairdresser.  Eve was the first guinea pig:

Not bad for watercolor markers, huh?

I'll do anything for a discount.

Tim and I try to take each of the kids out on a couple of dates a year so they can get some one-on-one time with each of us.  They also have the opportunity to earn additional dates via the chore/responsibility system we have set up.  Anna wanted to go ice-skating with me so I checked out the free-skate schedule online and was pleasantly surprised to find that they would knock off $3 apiece if we dressed in 80's garb. 

Now, I am about the furthest things from a pack rat you can find - if I haven't used something for a year, it gets donated or tossed.  Tim won't let me touch his stuff - he's got oodles of stuff taking up valuable space in our closet and garage over which I have no jurisdiction (under threat of death...almost).  But that's beside the point.  The point is, anything remotely 80's that I once owned was in a thrift store pile decades ago.  Still, I'm a sucker for saving a couple of bucks, so here's what Anna and I threw together. (You can't see it, but my jeans are, indeed pegged at the ankle, and both of us sported side ponytails, though mine isn't too obvious from the picture).  Anna's comment before we left:  "Mom, I never knew you could look so young!"  Guess I should go for the side ponytail more often, eh?

We were the only people there who bothered with the discount.  We were pretty much the only people there, period.  Turns out Idaho Ice World on Friday night in July is not much of a hot spot (no pun intended).  Not that I'm complaining - we had the whole rink to display our rockin' figure skating skills.  Or our ice-covered bottoms... but who was looking? 

Smoky sunsets.

We don't often stay up late enough to take in summer sunsets.  In early July our area saw a fair share of fires that brought smoke to the valley and endowed us with some eerily beautiful sunsets.  Anna was particularly mesmerized by them.  Here's one shot she took of the red sun:

Taking the good and the bad.

I have a snoring five-year-old in bed next to me.  Her beauty eclipses the noises she emits.  There's something about a quiet home (aka:sleeping children) that awakens the beauty in life.  Nevermind that it's after 10 p.m. and, just fifteen minutes ago they were exhibiting their sheer fatigue by falling apart at the smallest injustice (like not getting another drink of water before bed - please.  I've heard that one before).

Tim's at scout camp for the week, so, lucky for him, he doesn't have to listen to me unload the day's frustrations.  It's not a nightly tradition, but today would most certainly have warranted it.  There are times I am overwhelmed with gratitude at the bounty of motherhood - my four, beautiful, healthy, smart, funny, affectionate (I could go on and on) children.   My husband, who works tirelessly so that I can stay home with them, who provides well so that we can enjoy not just the necessities of life, but ample recreation.  He occasionally jokes when I report the day's happenings :  we played outside for hours, the kids climbed trees, we had a picnic on the front lawn, we read books for quiet time, we spent a couple of hours at the pool.  "Oh, you poor thing," he jokes.  And yet he knows, that in between all the "fun" of motherhood is woven threads of bickering, power struggles, rotten attitudes, hurt feelings, unfinished chores, messy houses and utter exhaustion.  It's all part of the package.

A couple of nights ago, one of my children complained to me that "I never do anything for her".   She was up past her bedtime (a common theme, on summer nights, apparently) and I had signed off for the day.  (Remember how I turn into a pumpkin at precisely 8 o' clock?)  That was her cue to unleash all the ingratitude she could muster.  At the precise moment that I was making trivia cards for a game to play in the car on our upcoming road trip to Michigan.  To make those long hours of driving through the likes of Nebraska and Iowa more bearable.  FOR HER.  And I had saved this particular project for after her bedtime.  MY time.  The irony of it was hilarious, but I wasn't laughing.

The complaining, ungrateful daughter provides such a stark contrast to the one who sleeps peacefully beside me now.   And to her credit, the "you never do anything for me, mom" daughter also surprised me today by diffusing several arguments between siblings.  It is impossible to appreciate the good when you haven't tasted the bad.  Raising children is tough stuff - no question.  Luckily, however, I am gifted moments of sheer delight - a belly laugh with my nine-year-old, a game of Sorry with my seven-year-old, an "I love you, Mom" from my five-year-old, and a snuggle with my three-year-old.  Moments that make me feel that I could be a mother of young(ish) children forever.  And ever.

Hard-headed.

The day before our trip to St. George a couple of weeks ago, Lily was washing her filthy feet in the pedestal sink in our downstairs bathroom.  As you might expect, a sink with no ledge is an accident just waiting to happen.  And happen it did.  Lily slipped and slammed her head on the toilet seat.  Poor toilet.

Her head?  Not a scratch.  Nor a concussion.  Nor any visible indication at the sheer force it must have wielded to crack a toilet seat clean through.  See what I'm dealing with here?

Shafer Butte.

Tim's a scoutmaster now - it puts a damper on his desire to add any additional campouts to his schedule.  Unfortunately for him, his daughters' interest in the great outdoors never wanes.  So we spent this weekend camping.  I figure that when the temperature promises to be above 100 degrees in the valley, there's a good chance we won't freeze out patookies off in the mountains.  And we didn't.  In fact, I would say it was the best night's sleep I've ever had on an overnight camping trip (which is not saying much, really). 

In the morning, as Anna and I washed our breakfast dishes at the spigot, several of the families in adjacent campsites asked me how we slept (to which I responded, "great!") and then they proceeded to tell us how their kids wouldn't settle down, or they barfed four times each, or the like.  They all had kids under the age of three.  I remember those days clearly - so I told them it gets better.  This time we had each of the girls unloading the car, setting up the tent, stoking the fire, washing the dishes, etc.  It makes a big difference when you are not the only one doing ALL the work - and when you can threaten your kids with their lives if they don't shut their mouths and go to sleep.  A nine-year old gets that better than a toddler, I guess.  Even so, we told stories well into the night before drifting off to sleep rather uneventfully.

Anyway, on to the pictures...

I asked Anna to take a picture of just Tim and I amid the backdrop of our campsite but look who snuck in the picture.

 Lily gave it her best shot here.

Finally got rid of the kids.

In the morning we ventured out on an awesome hike.  I was impressed that everyone we passed remarked on our four girls and not the three girls and little boy we appeared to have (Eve's gorgeous eyes must have given her gender away, despite her boyish attire).

In ascending order...  Might I mention that this was the only shot I got while heading up the mountain - most of the time I was packing the little one at the front - on my back.

Right about this moment, I felt inspired to run into the mountain meadow and twirl around with my arms outstretched singing "The hills are alive with the sound of music..."  We were truly on top of the world, it seemed.

                                                              Simply breathtaking.

Rachel was our resident wildflower picker/arranger.

               Tim obliged to swap me the backpack for the kid on the way down.  Phew.

                                                                We made it! 

Best quotes of the trip:

Rachel (after we asked everyone if they were warm enough at night) - "I was freezing cold!  And then I got in my sleeping bag."

Lily (after our hike) - "That was totally worth it."  Wonders never cease.

Land of the free.

We celebrated the 4th by hitting up downtown for the parade (for the first time in the nine summers we've lived here, in fact.) 

(The only shot I could get off all four of them - a real winner, I know.)

                                        (It wouldn't be Idaho without an NRA float...)

Chomping on candy, arguably the best part about parades, according to the kids.  They had no qualms about fighting for candy like their lives depended on it.  Tim remarked that San Diego parades put Idaho ones to shame in their candy dispersal - I wouldn't know, but I suppose if the children are finished with their candy before we even get back to the car (or the parade is over, in Lily's case), the floats were pretty stingy on candy volume.

For dinner, we scored hot dogs at a church barbecue and had a lovely time visiting with friends.  (No pictures of that.)  Then we headed over to visit with more friends at a neighborhood block party/fireworks show.  These guys really put out all the stops every year - we never have to buy anything ourselves because there are enough pyros to go around.  Burning money... I'll never understand it.  (But, for the record, we do throw a few dollars at our friends for providing the fireworks, we're not that cheap.)  My kids can always find some generous neighbors from whom they can beg for a few sparklers.  Works like a charm.  Even for Tim.

Happy Birthday America!

For the health of it.

One of our goals for the summer is to eat a wide variety of healthy foods.  I'm sure the ample stash of popsicles, Otter Pops, and orange creamsicles in my freezer fits the bill, right?

Really, though, I'm trying to reform my picky children in small ways.  Each time we go the the grocery store (or the fruit stand) I encourage them to select one fruit or vegetable that we rarely eat (or have never eaten).  Two weeks ago, we happened upon a coconut at the fruit stand.  Nevermind that I had to watch a Youtube video to figure out how to open the darn thing, it was an experience.  And the consensus is that fresh coconut is really not all that great.   But if we were stuck on a deserted island with coconut trees, we'd stomach them in order to stay hydrated - provided I had access to a machete, that is.

A St. George state of mind.

Attacking a hike in 85 (early morning) degree weather, scaling sandstone, playing games on the balcony, cooling off for hours at the pool, skim-boarding on the Virgin River, staying up far too late and waking up way too early... we had a grand ol' time with cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents this past week.  Can't wait to do it again.

Why women can't have it all.

I'm fascinated by the way in which the feminist agenda has shaped our world over the past few decades, and was intrigued by this article explaining several ways in which our world can put family first while furthering the presence of women serving in prominent leadership roles throughout the world.  (It's long, so don't feel inclined to read it - I was riveted, but then again, I'm a little weird).

I have my own opinions about women and their role in the home and the world, but since I lack the time to really get into it right now, I thought I'd share the following:

Worst quote from the article:  We may not have choices about whether to do paid work, as dual incomes have become indispensable.

Please.  It is possible to live on one income.  We have four children and we do it.  We just go without a lot of things that the rest of America seems to think are necessities.  I'm not suggesting that dual income families are overly materialistic (although I'm sure some of them are), only that it is possible to live on one income and not compromise one's happiness.  Unless you think money can buy happiness, in which case, by all means, both parents should work.  (I also recognize that, in many cases, dual income families are, in fact, by necessity - in other words to provide the basics of life.  I'm not talking about those people, I'm talking about people who could logistically live on one income - it's not as hard to do as one might think.)  Okay, done with that rant.

And... the best quote:  Whenever I am introduced at a lecture or other speaking engagement, I insist that the person introducing me mention that I have two sons. It seems odd to me to list degrees, awards, positions, and interests and not include the dimension of my life that is most important to me—and takes an enormous amount of my time.

Bravo.  When all's said and done, I feel that all the accolades in the world will pale in comparison to the investment we've made in our families.

Why three or more is never a crowd.

We are wrapping up a week's worth of cooking classes for both Anna and Lily.  A daily lesson taught by one of several mothers who have children about the same ages as mine.  It's been fun - but I must admit, the schedules that I figured had gone out the window as soon as school got out resurfaced with a vengeance this week.  Constant shuffling to and fro was the name of the game
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Aside from the frenzy of getting kids to the right place at the right time and teaching two classes in my kitchen - one to six chatty nine-year-old girls, and the other to five energetic seven-year-olds, it has been fun.  Tim asked me tonight if I thought that the collaboration with other moms is worth the work.  "Wouldn't it just be easier to teach the girls at home?", he questioned.  My answer?  Collaboration is completely worth the effort.
Here's why:

1.  First, the training actually gets done.  It's so easy to skim over teaching certain skills to one's own children.  Sure, they might help in the kitchen, but when something actually has to get on the table, I'm less concerned about ensuring the correct technique and more concerned about efficiency.  This week, we've completed a recipe (or two) a day, where the kids get hands-on experience in basic kitchen skills.  In fact, the lessons are designed around the development of those skills.

2.  My kids love learning with their friends.  Some of my children jump at the chance to help me with dinner.  Others don't.  Particularly the ones who are involved in cooking classes right now.  But, when I dangle the prospect of a glorified playdate (in the form of a cooking lesson), they jump at the opportunity.

3.  Other moms have so much to offer.  Believe it or not, I don't think I have all the answers.  In fact, when it comes to parenting I have very few original ideas.  I rely on moms who surround me, who've been mentors to me, who've given me life-altering advice and inspiring examples over the years.  I treasure my association with them, and am confident that my children are likewise enriched.
So yes, Tim, there you have it.  And aren't the little dears cute(posed to attack with a pastry blender)?