Lazy summer days.

Lolling around while mom does chores nearby.

Relaxing in the sun.

Cuddling with Ghandi.

Inspecting grass.

Checking on mom.

Studying clouds.

No, there's not much better than lolling on the grass.

Not much.

Except lolling on the pony.

"Hannah, look what I found! It's a swallow's egg, I think. The shell is so thin, I can't believe it fell all the way to the ground without breaking! Yeah, you can hold it. I want to get a picture of it. Just don't squeeze .... well, hold still, I'll take *that* picture. Let's go wash you off."

Spider babies

A few months ago, Hannah started noticing little white spots around the farm. I told her they were spider nests with hundreds of eggs in them. When we were trimming a lilac bush a few days ago we came across this - a spider nest with hundreds of babies. Hannah was more thrilled than me.

Can I watch it again?

and again...



and again...

Let them garden.

Ainsley playing in garden before the next bed is made.

Hannah helping plant starts.

She's mine.

My husband and I may not be much to look at apart, but we do make cute babies.

A spider in the car.

When I was little and our family of ten kids went on vacation, we went on vacation. We lived in Oklahoma and both of my parents' families lived in the northwest. We'd pack up in our van and head out for two or three weeks of driving and camping in Idaho and Utah. Ten. Kids. In a van.

My dad pulled out the third seat of the van and installed a platform that sat a few feet off the floor. Underneath the platform were bags of clothes and tents and sleeping bags. On the platform were as many kids as could fit comfortably - or uncomfortably if you got kicked off of one of the seats up front by a brother who wanted to lay down. Not naming names. Eric.

We travelled for twelve to sixteen hours at a time. Ten. Kids. Times were different then. Seatbelts were a suggestion that ten kids did not listen to. Now seatbelts are mandatory and children are much more safe in vehicles. And much, much, *much* more bored. Since our little family is making more long trips lately, what with visiting family or going down to the hospital in SLC, Matt decided it was time to get the girls dvd players to help them pass the time. It's wonderful. Grayson thanks us.

Hannah spent the trip watching Mariposa, a Barbie fairy movie. Ains watched Charlotte's Web. Not the new one, which is good, but the old classic animated version with the wonderful songs that you can't help singing along to even if your daughter says, with all of her four year old tact "Mother, you don't have to sing along, cause you know, it hurts my ears." I'm no Debbie Reynolds.

Hannah watches movies with a rapt (not vacant) expression. You can almost see her storing the details in her head, ready to incorporate it in her next story. As she watches, she breaks often to tell you what's happening in the story, asking you why certain characters are behaving as they are, or asking why you said four days ago that Ainsley's dress was cute. Isn't her dress cute too? These are questions that need to be answered.

Ainsley, on the other hand, gets completely wrapped up in her movie, but once again, never with a vacant expression on her face. Never vacant. It was so much fun to watch that I started taking pictures which she put up with for a bit.

Hey Mom. I'm watching a fun movie.

Charlotte's talking to Fern and Wilbur and the other animals.

This doesn't look good. I'm getting worried.

Mom? There's a boy trying to catch Charlotte.

Mooooooomma! Make him stop! He's gonna catch Charlotte!

Wait... wait... something's happening.

Oh, that's funny! He fell! Charlotte got away!

Yaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyy!!! Charlotte got away!

Wilbur knocked him off his feet. That was soooo funny.

Why are they all yelling? What smells funny?

Oh, that's even funnier! They cracked a rotten egg!

Oh, I'm ready for a nap.

You can stop taking pictures now, Momma.

Seriously. Stop.

I'm going now....

Yeesh. I don't want to be rude, but some people can't take a hint.

What my 21 month old learned today.

If you want to get water from the refrigerator, it's best to use a cup to push the water lever in. Because at 21 months old, you are just the right height to have that stream of water hit you square in the eye.

And if mom's too busy washing dishes to notice what you're doing later, you may just be able to drag the baby's bouncy seat over close enough to spray him on the belly.

But the hysterical giggling from both of you will give you away.

While we were walking the goats to their pasture today:

Hannah: "You know what another good name for Mother is?"

Mother: "No. What?"

Hannah: "Your Royal Highness."

I like this kid.

Hannah in garden.
Ainsley and Chinde.

Hannisms.

"Daddy, I'm fourteen. But without the teen."

Last Sunday, Grayson had a congenital cyst under his tongue get infected and burst causing swelling that not only started to close his throat but pushed his tongue up and back, blocking the air from even getting to his throat. For the first time since we moved here I was cursing living in the country. It takes thirty minutes on a good day, hitting all the green lights, to get into 'town' (the town with the hospital which is actually two towns away). We made it there in fifteen minutes, tops, speeding up from 70 mph to 90 and finally hitting 110 mph (on the highways between towns) in our big ol' diesel truck as Gray struggled to breathe. I never want to repeat that ride. A 911 call made on the way seemed to change lights to green for us, stop any cops from trying to stop us, and had doctors waiting at the emergency room door when we squealed to a stop and I threw Grayson into their arms.

He was life-flighted to a bigger hospital about an hour away who in turn life-flighted him to Children's Primary in Salt Lake City, a state of the art hospital that could not only diagnose his mystery problem but could treat it.

Getting off the fixed-wing life-flight.




Hannah with Grayson.



All of the girls with Grayson.

Playing with stethoscopes.

Being at a hospital like Primary Children's, which specializes in unusual and rare diseases in children, was such an experience. I went in there a bit traumatized but holding it together, having a three month old son who was now stable and breathing, but with a then-unknown cause to his troubles. In the four days we were there I saw

-a four year old girl, my oldest daughter's age, pulling an oxygen tank behind her as if it was part of her body

-so many parents, siblings, and grandparents pulling little plastic wagons with children to weak to walk

-children obviously in the middle of cancer treatments

-a baby ward that was huge and full of babies in much worse condition than my little tyke

-parents that ranged from those that, as one nurse put it, "have to be told to leave the bedside of their kids and go to the bathroom" to parents that "have to be called and told that the doctor wants to talk to them about their child, so could you come in to the hospital" - so many different ways of dealing with sickness

-a six year old girl that stopped and talked to me about my son and asked all sorts of probing questions about his condition - questions that could only be asked by someone intimately familiar with doctors and tests and shots and hospital stays - her little brother (also named Grayson) lived at the hospital due to his problems

-so much kindness from everyone - janitors, nurses, doctors, life-flight EMTs, cafeteria workers - everyone in that hospital had a smile for my children and that hospital is *made* for children

Ainsley and the 'Fish Tank'.

-a cafeteria that was more like a restaurant in the quality of food it offered - we've missed that cafeteria since we left - it was nice not to feel like we were living on fast food

All in all, after being there a day, I wasn't thinking that what we were going through was so terribly awful by comparison after all. By the time we left I was fully cognizant of how lucky we were to be leaving so quickly and with such resolution in his case and wishing we had something similar close to where we lived so that I could volunteer there.

We go back in two weeks for some more tests and hopefully some resolution. I'm not looking forward to the poor kid getting poked *again* - he hated that worse than anything else.

After talking with the ambulance driver on our way from the fixed-wing life-flight (which landed at the airport) to the hospital, I now realize that even if we lived in the middle of Salt Lake City it would have taken us fifteen minutes at the least to get to the hospital. So country living works for me again.

Here are some random pictures of the girls during the trip:

To pass the time with the girls, Matt used the colorful gauze to make the girls look like 70s joggers.

Relaxing at home.

Jesus is a fairy.

Hannah's starting to explore spiritual ideas more. She's fascinated with different beliefs now since she knows that her daddy is Mormon and I am not.

Yesterday she asked "Was Jesus Mormon, mother?" I told her that Jesus was, by his very existence, Christian, but not Mormon. After I got to thinking about it, and about books I've read about Jesus as a person and about how the time he lived in shaped who he was, I have to wonder if he'd even classify himself as Christian today. Interesting.

She has decided that Jesus is a fairy (thanks to a picture in the Primary room). She's also wavering between thinking Jesus came back to life and thinking that's just a story. She likes the idea of someone beating death - death's a bit nerve-wracking for a four year old - but she can't wrap her mind around the fact that he came back looking like he did before he died. According to her, when you die you become a skeleton. He should look like a skeleton. A fairy skeleton.

Breastfeeding hero.

For my sister the lactivist - this woman is absolutely amazing. Read about her.

http://yesboleh.blogspot.com/2008/05/chinese-policewoman-helps-quake-effort.html

"A Chinese policewoman is contributing to the country’s massive earthquake relief effort in a very personal way -- by breastfeeding eight babies. ... She is nursing the children of three women who were left homeless by the quake and are too traumatised to give milk, as well as five orphans, the report said.The babies who lost their parents have been put in an orphanage which does not have powdered milk, it said."

On the porch.

Lazy, outside afternoons. Playing in the shade, in a breeze, on the porch.

Growing up.

Little things jump out at you that make you realize your little one is growing up.

Wanting to walk home all the way from the mailbox to the house - and chatting about the state of the world (or at least *your* world) all the way home.



Being big enough to pick up the chicks yourself at the feed store.



Being big enough to carry your sister.



Mother's having a hard time with this.

Baby smiles and a sleeping toddler.

The framing is off on these since it is so difficult to get a baby to smile when they see a camera.

Let's go fly a kite.

It's very windy here. Flying kites is a dangerous sport in our neck of the ... fields. The wind's so strong that the girls can barely hold the kite and when the kite hits a wind gust, the kite can zoom back to the ground at an alarming rate.

This is actually the least dangerous way to fly a kite here.





That's us heading down the driveway at two miles per hour, going to town on errands. We keep the kite in the car and she gets to fly it from the house to the mailbox and then from the mailbox to the house on the way back.

Homesick.

For a place not home.

I lived in Ireland for seven months, working at a stable. Mornings like this, overcast, muggy, green - I miss it. I miss it a lot.