Time with Dad

A chore of cleaning up the garage with dad resulted in an army base made from scrap wood.  David said Roman was into the power tools and watching it come together, but he really went crazy when he got out the spray paint.  Together deciding on a camo motif, Roman watched the process exclaiming, "Ohhh ohh, I really like dat!"  Reason 967 why dad totally rules:  Mom sees a garage floor full of crap that needs to get thrown away, and Dad sees an army base for a 3 year old.  

Love that.

First Day of School

Be still my heart.  Something about kindergarten year.  Tight chest, eyes brimming with water and lump in my throat all over again.  These past few weeks have been busy and purposeful and fun.  Trying each day to squeeze every last drop out of summer.

We had a Back to School dinner on Sunday, and then Monday was lunch out, last minute errands, and football practice.  We raced home, cleaned up, and before family prayer each kiddo received a father's blessing.  This is the third school year now for our family and these traditions are exciting and comforting.  But still.  As we were packing up her backpack last night, my fearless little girl, the one who at 18 months ran into the church nursery and yelled "Bye Mom!" without even turning around, began to cry.  So so so uncharacteristic. I asked what exactly it was that was making her sad, and she said, "I'm just going to be there all day, and you're just going to be here...without me!"  I must say, it was sweet to me to have this little glimpse, verification if you will, that she was actually going to miss me.  A small moment.  Of course she woke up this morning excited and ready to go.  And when we got to her classroom door (at our new school we were welcome to come in for a photo :)  she walked right through,  like so many years before, without a look over her shoulder to mom.  Lily hugged her teacher and gave her a caramel apple, hung up her backpack and found her seat.  Before I left she was engrossed in coloring a paper with the school's mascot.  I stood in the doorway for a few moments looking at the bright and colorful world she is now a part of.  Intuitively I know that she is going to have a wonderful experience.  The tears are mostly because it is always at this kindergarten threshold that I realize what a profound gift for me it has been to have spent these first five years together.

Her land was good and greatly blest

On the way home from Iowa, a little stop at Adam-ondi-Ahman.
Impossible not to recognize how incredible it is to stop and stretch our legs at a place like this.

A slice of Americana, or corn casserole, as it were.

Fun.
So cool.
Kinda kitschy.
Surprisingly delicious.
I have to admit that before this very day, I had never tasted any form of corn casserole.
Which I suppose made me, shhh, questionably qualified to judge.
In her earnest Midwesterner manner, the writer (who records your responses and keeps track of your scores) sitting next to me turned and said, "Thank you so much for dressing up.  I think it adds a nice touch.  Presents a more official feeling."  Dress the part, fake it till you make it, I say.  Also, I had an official judges blue ribbon.

impossible not to smile...

Honestly tonight as I was looking at (the bazillion) photos from this ride at the fair, all I could think was "Sheesh, I really should have ponied up $7 more dollars and tried this one out for myself!"

Roman on the Farm

Roman has been talking about being a farmer 6 months and running.  An astronaut and bowler too, but he's most consistent with farmer.  That's a big deal when you're 3.  It being our second time at the Iowa State Fair (Little Hands on the Farm), he grabbed his basket and apron and got right to work planting and harvesting his carrots.  It was serious business the whole way through for him, only pausing to smile after the money was in hand and he was headed to the store for his treat.  Work ethic that will serve him well :)  Love love love this little farmer.  I hope all his tractor, cow and apple tree dreams come true and that every day ends with an icy cold bomb pop.

Our Funny Baby

(At a rest stop, on our way home from a little vacation)

Poppy lives up to her name in every sense.  She is the happiest, busiest, little lady.

Always trying her darnedest to keep up with her siblings.

Last night our living room was a circus of vaulting, and cartwheels and splits, and children jumping off of furniture and into forward rolls.  Not to be outdone, Poppy walked into the center of the room (narrowly missing a flying leg) and put her arms and head down - bottom high in the air - to attempt her own somersault.  She couldn't get her legs off the ground, but boy did she try.  She stood to room full of applause anyway.

Gold medal performance.

eeeeee!!!

Three things:

1 - A few weeks ago, David and I started a conversation about different impressions we've had since moving into our home.  It was interesting to note that we've both received guidance and little nudges, if you will, in regards to this new stage in our family's life.  I especially liked his.  He said one night he went out to turn off the sprinkler, and while on the side of the house, in the dark, a strong feeling came, and the thought that he needed to make sure to create memories for his family in this home, and that he needed to be purposeful in providing traditions for our children to look forward to.  I love that, I love the mental image I have of that experience.

2 - Last week we visited the joco children's museum, and they have a play structure for kids built to resemble an old farmstead. It's complete with pretend chicken coop, laundry line, wood burning stove, and water that is pumped into the house via well.  The kids were having a blast playing and I was reading some of the signs around the exhibit.  To the best of my recollection, one was a letter written by the mayor (around the turn of the century?) to residents encouraging them, to the best of their ability, to make their homes clean and safe and beautiful.  And he particularly said that their children would benefit from those efforts.  And I chuckled, but kind of loved the idea that the mayor published that.

3 - I'm really excited about our little bathroom transformation.  We rewired for sconces, painted and hung a different mirror.  I say "we" but my only contribution to these projects are ideas and maybe some finishing touches.  (and lots of praise! "oh honey, you're amazing!") We've got a slew of projects on deck, and I'm totally embracing the entire process. (please remind me I said that in a few months when I'm going crazy)  But really.  I think the secret is that the dreaming and planning and hard work are actually the best parts.  Of course the end result is lovely, but forever and ever my memories are linked to process.  I do like to recall how beautiful I felt the basement in our first home turned out.  But even more I find we say, "remember when the Baileys and Ballantynes came over almost every Friday night and we ordered pizza and the girls talked nonstop upstairs while the guys wired the entire downstairs?"  Or, "remember that one time you and your brother were messing with a pipe in the basement and a gush of water shot straight out and missed baby Zach (sitting in his carseat) by six inches!?"  It's messy and imperfect, but there is a lot of magic happening in the middle, in the creation.

(the before)