Guess What I'll Be Doing This Weekend???

Ragnar time, baby! I've been training for this and I'm ready.

And terrified.

And excited.

We're painting our van and dying our hair red and wearing kilts.

Woohoooooooo!

12 years

This tiny 4lb 12.8 oz baby...

Turned 12 in May.



Went to the temple for the first time on the Saturday after her birthday. And has gone twice since then.



Just finished her second year of playing the cello.


Is super fun.



Just graduated from sixth grade.



Has an amazingly awesome best friend.



Has spent the last week at YW camp. I'm sure she's having a ball and not the least bit homesick. She's too much like her mother that way.

But oh I've missed her! I went into her room a couple of days ago and just lay on her bed, missing her, trying to draw some of her spirit from that messy, quirky, beautiful space of hers.

I'm so grateful to have this daughter of mine and can't imagine life without her. What a rewarding 12 years it has been.

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A Different Kind of Photography Experience

Quick note: If you read my blog in a reader and it's been a while since you visited, come see the new layout. And by layout, I really mean new header and font colors. Nothing too fancy schmancy.

A couple of months ago, we had a fabulous afternoon. And Gina of Golden June Photography came along and took pictures to document it. I love how the pictures turned out. Even more, I loved the relaxed, happy atmosphere of the shoot. I love that there is light in my children's eyes and that, beyond just taking great pictures, Gina was able to capture our family's personality so brilliantly.

It was a great contrast to previous photography experiences we've had -- the weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth, the feeling of being at the mercy of the photographer while he/she works hard to get our (silly, busy, crazy) family to sit still in order to get the perfect shot. I've never been able to convey to a photographer that I'm less interested in the perfect shot than I am in the perfect picture -- an accurate and happy representation of my family in that moment in time. There was no conveying necessary with Gina. She simply followed our lead and our energy. It was wonderful.

I'm in love with these pictures.

(Click to make it big.)

Visit Gina's blog to see some of her other work. She is a brilliant and talented photographer and I'm grateful that she took the time to practice on us.

New Iconic Scud Picture

There are always a few pictures taken each year of my children that I label "iconic.". Iconic, as in representative to me of exactly who they are at that moment in time.

Today I cut Scud's hair for the last day of school. He wanted another mohawk. I happily obliged, then snapped this picture.

When I saw it on the screen it immediately captured my heart. This is my Scud. Right now. He's learning to play football and be cool. He still asks his mommy for hugs several times a day. He's soooo handsome at this spot between little boy and big boy. I couldn't love him more.


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Poetry Tuesday Returns In Honor Of Mother's Day

So, I haven't posted any poems for a long time. I'm feeling the need to start again. And why not start for Mother's Day?

These are two poems from Carol Lynn Pearson's book "Beginnings." (You may be getting the feeling that I like Carol Lynn Pearson. Um, I really do. I love the work of many other poets too, but Carol always seems to sing the same song my heart sings.)

The first poem "Investment" is dedicated to my younger sister who will soon be giving birth to her first child. I'm so thrilled for her I could burst.

The second poem "The Unwritten Poem" is dedicated to my mother, who has given so much to her children. She loves to write and has always told me she'd love to write more. I think she should! Until then, she just keeps on encouraging and loving me and everyone else in her family. She has given me so many poems.

Investment

How enviously

I watched

The rose bush

Bear her bud --

Such an easy,

Lovely birth.

And

At that moment

I wished

The sweet myth

Were true --

That I could

Pluck you,

My child,

From some

Green vine.

But now

As you breathe,

Through flesh

That was mine

(Gently in the

Small circle

Of my arms),

I see

The wisdom

Of investment.

The easy gift

Is easy to forget.

But what is bought

With coin of pain --

Is dearly kept.

The Unwritten Poem

Sometimes --

In a sitting down moment

On a day

Of stove-heating the sad-irons

And layering newspaper between

Quilts to keep us warmer --

I heard my mother say,

"I wish I had time

To write a poem."

And then she would start

The potatoes.

When I was twelve

A thing happened that

Broke my heart --

A school thing I've forgotten now.

For hours I cried my humiliation

Into a handkerchief.

Next day my mother

Brought in in from ironing --

That handkerchief --

And gave it to me special.

"Here," she laid it in my lap.

"You've had it in happy times

And in sad.

There'll be more of both.

Keep it, and it will remind you

The better follows the bad."

She went back to ironing,

And my fingers traced

The little flowers of fading blue.

I can remember other poems

She left me, too.