My New Soapbox

I hate cans and bottles. I loathe warm, sticky pop and beer. I disdain those that purchase bottled water. I'm sure these feelings will fade. (I just drank a Dr. Pepper at a birthday party, shsss.)

But every time I open my garage door and see this pile of carbon footprints...I cringe. I've decided that the way to fund national health care is to tax anything made with fructose corn syrup. These pictures shows 1/4 of the cans we collected in one section of one town...in a two hour period. When I stare at these cans I see visions of corroded livers---can a liver do that? Do you all hate me?

One little tidbit: drink of choice---Keystone Light.

I have decided to do something to make the world a better place. I can't cure world hunger. I can't sit down with the Palestinians and Israelis and broker a peace agreement. I can't even control my own future, or at least not completely. But I can send an e-mail to my representatives and ask them why California accepts so many more cans than Oregon? Really? You can't find a way to recycle the Kirkland brand. Other states do. Seems like they are made out of the same plastic as Aveeno. And is there a reason why Oregon won't give 5 cents for Gatorade? And Lipton products? All made out of the same materials.

OK, I'm done.

Summer Hopes

We only get one shot every year to do it right, to live summer well. There is a lot of pressure put on summer and how we use June, July, and August. My husband is a teacher and a soccer coach, so this season is his sanity break---our chance to get time together, for my boys to get their love tanks filled before the storm of soccer season and fall’s chaos.

Sometimes we do summer well, sometimes not. This summer is feeling a bit not. I feel like we’ve been juggling too many events, activities, and obligations. There have been too many days when my husband has left before the boys wake and gets home after the last one has fallen asleep----only to do this arduous schedule again the next day



My middle was starting to regress, act out, exhibit 2-year-old behavior that I thought we’d left long behind. I was starting to doubt my parenting abilities. I was evaluating myself, wondering what I was doing to cause these sessions of passionate angst.

At the dinner table last night the older two boys announced that they wanted to do a toast. My oldest lifted his juice glass, “Here’s to Daddy’s quick visit home!” Earlier that day my husband had dashed in for 20 minutes to grab something he’d forgotten between meetings. They each got a kiss and hug, and for that they were grateful. I got it. It wasn’t me; it was the loss of Daddy Time they were feeling instead. My middle son acts as the canary in the coal mine. I need to listen to his expressions a bit more often, since it usually mirrors what we are all feeling inside.



Near the end of the summer we always evaluate our commitments, what we accomplished, what we were glad happened, and what we hope to never repeat.

This has been helpful throughout our marriage. After three summers in a row, pre-kids, of me finding summer employment my husband pointed out that the extra money was not worth the time and effort, and that for my health and his, it was better for me to enjoy my summers so that I could be a better teacher during the school year. He was right.



Good summers include many evening meals eaten outside, running our toes in the green grass. Good summers mean that we don’t have to look at our watches. We can spend more time playing down at the river and not worry about getting back by a certain time. Good summers mean we play, rest, relax, and then play again. We fill full, like we’ve just relished in a good holiday meal, and now we are sleeping it off in our lawn chairs. I just don’t feel like this happened well this summer. We were too busy, had too many obligations.

Each summer hopefully we do better. Hopefully we continually evaluate and adjust our expectations. I know we will need these skills as our family of young men age. I don’t want to collapse at the end of the finish line, in roughly 20 plus years, and say, “Well, we survived. They all gradated. No casualties?”

Instead I hope we are able to take a step back and enjoy each moment and stage, releasing our mistakes, and remembering to repeat our successes. Summer is essential to my soul, and I never want to skip over it without dunking myself fully into what it offers. I want to pass this type of summer living on to my kids. Summers done right are about watching time stand still as you lazily rest against a tree and watch the sprinkler dance in the back yard.

Fast Monkey

This is the summer of Fast Monkey, The Elephant Song, and Opposite, which are all songs by Steve. Not sure what the official titles are, but that is what the boys shout at me when we load up the van. And for once I don't mind, at least for the last two months straight. Now, I'm beginning to get a bit tired, but Steve is pretty good. This is the same Steve who does the music on PBS Kids.

I just happened to find this CD at our local library and we've been renewing and checking it out now all summer long. I keep wondering if I should buy it, but what if right when it finally comes in the mail my boys tire of it?

I found another, earlier, CD, and it wasn't quite as good. But Marvelous Adventure is quite pleasant, and I find myself just as excited about the "turtle song" as my boys.

You should really check it out though.

Here is another link to some more video footage of Steve.

Friday Photo

First Fish!

Oops, 606 Dollars Per Family

Correction: According to Real Simple magazine, the average family spends 606 dollars on all school supplies: clothing and pencils, and that includes the whole family and not just one child.

I can see how that easily happens, and I know that will be us once all of our boys are in school. I can't even imagine what the cost will be like when I factor in sports fees and physicals etc.

We joke that I will be returning to work once they are all in school just so that we can afford to feed them, but I may have to get a second part-time job just to pay for their school related expenses.

My original post on this topic got a lot of conversation going, so now I am curious if anyone is all done school shopping

Loving My Manna and Quail

Weather. We talk about it. We discuss it. We plan around it. We hope for it. We anticipate it. We rail against it. We post about it. If you’re unsure what to say to someone, you can always mention the temperature, and an uncomfortable, limping conversation will get going.

I try not to complain about the weather. As a girl, my father always made note of it in our mealtime prayers. He was always thankful. If it was raining, he gave thanks. If it was sunny, he was pleased. However, this last spring was a trial and tribulation. Even my contented father complained. Facebook status updates were getting a bit too predictable. People were threatening to move to Arizona; get a time share in Sun Valley; or charge their cards, hop on a jet, and land in Hawaii. I was beginning to wonder if the sun would ever come. I panicked a bit, imagining no summer, just one really long spring---straight into the mucky winter of 2011. My chest tightened. Panic attack!

But now the sun is here, and still we complain. Facebook was at it again. People were hot. They were having trouble sleeping. They were debating window A/C units, adding a few more fans to their arsenal. While all these troubles and sufferings were legitimate, I just couldn’t bring myself to complain. Had we forgotten already what April, May, and June had been like? Remember the rain? The muck? The doom and gloom? I remember it, a bit too clearly. And so I refuse to complain this summer. I will be the one lone Israelite, wandering the desert, and heartily eating my quail and manna. After all this is what I was wanting---heat and sun.

I want to have to wear shorts. I want to be able to fill up the backyard pool and apply sunscreen. I want to open my freezer and stand for a quick cool down. I relish purchasing Popsicle and lemonade. I smile as I get to wear sunglasses and crank my van’s A/C. I desire to live this season fully. I want a warm evening to run my bare feet through the browning grass.

The sound of the backyard sprinkler is rhythmic music, reassurance that seasons continue and the earth is still doing its thing. It is August. It is summer. I am thankful. I am right outside the promise land, and I have no intention of being left behind---left to waste away in my own complaints.

My middle son informed me that he thought summer was too hot for him. “I just like fall; it is warm. It is not cold or hot.” It is my favorite too, but I think only because it follows a hot, sizzling season I anticipate, depend on, and plan on enjoying---summer.

Friday Day Photo: Would You Go Here?

These were the public restrooms in Ione, Washington. I was lucky; they were closed. I didn't have to try and decide to brave it or not. Would you?