Why I love pictures

I was looking through my pictures this morning, and I was amazed at how much life we've lived.

With kids it all changes so fast.  At least I can look back and appreciate it all over again.

This is just 11 seconds worth of Beckam.

Learning to stand June 2012



Gorilla baby at Liberty park June 2012




Crawling at Heritage park August 2012




Rock climbing in Ferguson's October 2012





borrowing a Harley Dude's scarf at Backstreet club October 2012




Hulk Baby October 2012




early morning sunshine August 2012




Riding the turtle at Liberty park October 2012




Car ride taken by Sophie October 2012




Those odd toddler seats in the bathroom at Smith's September 2012




Leslie's wedding October 2012



climb into the leaves



Sophie took this one.  She has an eye.



It was Saturday afternoon.  I had promised Sophie, friends and myself that we'd go climbing.  I had lost my voice 2 days ago, and my throat felt like a burning straw.  Not even a whole straw, but the kind you get with a Capri Sun.  My muscles were thin and asleep.  I started sweating just from walking up the stairs.

How can I take 4 kids up the canyone today?

Then I remembered how many times I've put one foot in front of the other and walked into beauty.  No matter how tired. 

One step at a time, Sarah.  Okay.  What have I got to loose?

Look what I gained.

Thank you Kai for the backpack and for sharing your joy of climbing.

Thank you Sophie, Beach and Pepper for your play and smiles.

Thank you Gary for carrying Pepper down the trail.

Thank you Katrina for appearing magically again.

Thank you Scott for your huff, puff, squeal up the 5.11.

Thank you AB for your heart.

Thank you Cody for the use of your finger-nail clippers.  You are a magician.

Thank you to my body for cooperating.

Grace is all around me.  My life is saturated with it.

 



Best friends down the trail





Beckam, Katrina and I at the base of climb



Beckam's cradle



He was so tired he nearly bobbed right out of the pack



brings back memories of Sophie as a baby



no shortage of imagination or beauty here



Date Night

Half way through the movie I slipped my feet into Andrew's lap.

His hands warm my popcycle toes.

We started out as strangers.

He munched popcorn all through the previews.

I sat indian style in my seat, not moving, hearing him crunch.

He tries to be quiet, but I can still hear it.

The movie is about love.

Real love.

It is about us.

Two hours pass.

The credits roll black and white into the ceiling.

I look over at him.
"I know you still love me."

"I do," and he looks soft.  He is not the same man who was frantically scrubbing dishes in our kitchen two hours ago, trying to make it to the movie on time.  He is not the one who comes home and opens the bills with scrunched up forehead, ignoring the kids.  Ignoring me. 

He is the one who wrapped arms around me on a summer boat when the wind moved fast over our bare skin.
"We used to be like that," he says.
"I know.  And now we are somebodies Mom and Dad.  Isn't it crazy?"
Our foreheads touch and eyes close.  I feel a tear in mine.
"It happened so fast," he says.

"I know.  But I'm so glad you're doing it with me.  Thank you for doing it with me," my voice cracks and I am really crying.  Right here in the dark theatre, I can't help it.  I don't want to help it.  I want him to know.

"Do you think I'm crazy for crying right here?" I ask.
"No," and he means it.  He knows.
We sit huddled into each other.

We are the only people in the theatre.

When a girl needs her Dad

I call my Dad on the way to the hospital.

He was about the 5th person I tried.  He should have been the first.

He answered.

"Dad?"

My voice breaks and sounds like someone else. 

"What's going on honey?"

"Well, I'm just on my way up to Primary Children's.  Sophie hurt her arm in gym.  Jeff called.  I just needed to talk to someone, I guess..  Beckam was up all night from 12:30-5:30 in the morning.  I got no sleep.  He's been crying all day cuz he's teething and constipated.  I can't handle one more thing, but I have to..."

"Oh...yeah...it can be exhausting.  Even Mom's resolve runs out sometimes, huh?"

He recognizes where I am.  His voice runs delicate over my sharp edges, smoothing them back into human form.  I am a little girl again.  I wonder if this is the most honest identity I have.

"...Then the kitty killed a mouse and Pepper got all worried.  I had to distract her so she didn't see Spock bite the mouses' head off and start eating it. Beckam is inconsolable.  I don't know how to help him.  It's all just too sad.  I've been running around, buying prune juice.  Then he pooped in the bath..."  I sob and ramble.  My rant runs itself out.  I catch my breath.

"Feel better?'  he asks?

Sniffle..."Yes."  I let out a little gurgly laugh, cuz I know it's both ridiculous and not.  I am a paradox on wheels right now.

"Yes, I am okay.  I just pulled up to the hospital.  Thanks Dad.  I think I can go in there now."

"You're welcome, honey.  Call me when you're done."

I walk in.  Sophie is perched on the bed smiling.

Jeff is solid next to her.

I take my place in the chair beside him.

It is quiet.

We are waiting, holding space for Sophie.

The longer we are there, I can feel Jeff's concern growing.

He lets out a pondering "Hmmm..."

Maybe I have more intuition about him than I thought.

We spend 3 hours in the E.R.

They X-ray Sophie's arm.

"What's that?"

Jeff identifies a tiny chip of bone off to the side in the grey and black image.

"Oh, that's probably just a growth plate," says the X-ray tech.

Nope.

It's not a growth plate.

It's a piece of bone she pulled off when her elbow dislocated.

"I DID break my arm!  I knew it!  I knew something wasn't right in there!!"  She is excited by the novelty of it.

Her best friend from gym calls.  They are giddy and swapping stories.  The nurse comes in with the splint.

"K.  I gotta go Beach.  They're here to put on my cast."  Still smiling.

I take Sophie home.  Her dad is scheduled at the fire station in the morning.  I look over my shoulder to see tears in her eyes.  I know.

"You don't want Dad to go, huh?"

Her bottom lip trembles.  She didn't let him see her cry, but I know too much.  

"I know Sof.  Even if we were still together, he'd still have to go to the station...ya know?'

She nods her head and the tears fall over the rim of her eyes, down her cheek.

I put my hand on her knee and look into her.  

"I called my Dad on the way here.  Sometimes you just need your Dad, huh?"

She nods again and shudders at the truth of my statement.

We drive home.  

I point out the city lights to her.

I used to sit at the top of the driveway growing up in L.A. and watch them twinkle, my Dad beside me.

Maybe it only happened once.  But it was enough for me to hold onto.

"You know why I was so happy in the hospital, Mom?  Cuz I needed you and you were both there.  Not just one of you...both of you."

A Single Stem

Flipping through the pictures on my camera I realize, there are few of Sophie.

She unfolds into thoughtful, creative stuff all the time.  I miss it.

Just like the unruly kids in class, the toddler and baby get the most attention.

While the brilliant student off in in the corner is unlocking Algebra's secrets, nobody notices.

concentrated painting with her new easel

She cooks her own recipes in her wok.  She doesn't even need a stool anymore.  I let her use the chef's knife on her own.  It's as long as her arm.  I have my dad to thank for that.  He gave us a 2 foot machete to hack down bamboo in the backyard when I was 10.

Sophie makes art with a recklessness and frustration which I feel too.  She is rarely satisfied with the 

artistic process.  She would rather bounce her body off the ground.

She reads books to her siblings with gusto and sing-song kid voice.  On nights when my patience is thinner than a coffee filter, she steps in with fresh face and gentle hands.

Yesterday she constructed a Science lab and melted wax into dried leaves.  It included a tiny notebook where she took note of her observations.

She arranges beautiful table settings.  She wants everyone to come join her.  Sometimes I never make it to her table.  I remember the magic of fancy dishes.  Grandma Kappos would let me use any glass in the cupboard.  It was like a full bar in there.  She had every kind of glass you could imagine.  It made my tummy turn just looking at them.  My breathing got real quiet as I'd peer into the musty shelf.  I'd lift a single stem out so slowly and set it on the counter, like picking roses.  The day I broke one, she didn't even get mad.  She just said, 

"Well, glasses break."  Then she smiled.

Today, I will take Sophie to the 2nd hand store and buy some fancy glasses.  We will get apple cider and pick flowers.  It's time for a girls night.  She needs to know how precious she is.  When Grandma let me use her fancy glasses, I thought, "Wow, she must really trust me."

I'd leave feeling quite capable and tall.

"Ruthluess Toothless" 2009

made her own dinner complete with  flute of Strawberry milk 2010

showing off muscles with Monica at the U of U gymnastics meet 2011

reading the Mommy book to Beckam on Mother's day 2012

phantom mice

Phantom mice skitter on the floor above me.

Beckam 1 month. This time is already gone.

They are my children.  But they are not real yet.  In reality they are all sleeping.  The phantoms are the noises I expect to hear in about 30 minutes.

Beckam is getting another tooth.  I cradled his too-big body in the rocking chair last night at 12:43 a.m.  

Sophie came out squinting against the kitchen light,

"Can I do anything to help you, Mom?"

"Ya, you can get that bottle out of the fridge and put it in the microwave for about 30 seconds, thanks Sophie."

She hands it to me with a dopey grin and wanders back to bed.

My baby is gnawing on his finger and dribbling complaints, but he's quieter.  He knows he is being held.  I look down, he is barely a baby anymore.  He took his first steps yesterday.  Andrew blasted a cheer into Beckam's face.  I heard it from the other room,

"What!  What happened?"  I shouted.

"Beckam just took his first steps!  I think I scared him!  I made him fall down! Ha! Ha!"

I grin at the bonding he doesn't even know is happening.  Already he is proud of his son.

*Underoos!*

I hear Moms brag, "My baby sleeps all night...10 hours straight."

My kids do that sometimes.  It's a luxury when they do.  But I like these times also.  I would not consider myself a better mother if they never woke up and looked for comfort.  I will never know half the reasons they cry in the night.  I don't have to.  I only know it is a privilege to be there.  On the nights I can barely lift my steel ball of a head from the pillow, I just wish it were morning.  At least then I wouldn't have to attempt sleep anymore.  

"Just don't wish it away, Sarah."

Even if I have to drag my body around until 11 a.m. when it finally wakes up, I can accept it. I pretend I am climbing a steep hill and I allow it to be slow. 

I flip pancakes.  I cut them into bite-sized squares.  I sip my coffee.  I smile at Pepper's scrawny body in her boys' underwear waving her fork in song.  Beckam is her biggest fan and flaps his arms along with her.  Sophie cannot help but to smile at their nonsense.  She is right on the cusp of teenager, and it shows in her removal from their play.  

good morning Beckam

I expect to be tired for the next 4 years of my life.  Then Sophie will be a teenager, and something else will happen....That's a whole separate blog.

At least this is innocent.  Yes it is taxing.  But there is a comfort in knowing that I can give them what they need.  As they get older, I will have to step back and let them cry and search and fail.  Knowing this makes it easy to hold them at any hour of the night, for as long as they need.

desert sun

Noodle Bath - Beckam

I came home from Lake Powell to find the desert sun reflecting off my children.

I was gone from them for 7 days.

I fed them noodles in the bath because Beckam's highchair was still at Grandma's.

At first my brain vibrated with their sound.
I looked at Andrew,
"Was our house always this loud?"

It was good to get away.
I discovered that I am still in love with my husband.
When I came home, I discovered, I am still in love with my children too.

If we weren't all so enamored with one another, this would be torture...

Noodle Bath - Pepper

sun

light

getting acquainted again...

"Mom, take a picture of me with the kitty."