A full heart.

Tonight was one of those nights that reminded me what sweet little souls I am raising. 

After dinner, Aubrey asked me (again) if she could have her Blankey back. (You can read about the recent Blankey drama here.) Telling her no was heartbreaking, and she was so angry at me. Aubrey has yet to learn how to deal with her anger without lashing out, and with her vocabulary and gift of sass, her being angry means I get a tongue-lashing of words meant to hurt my heart. I tried to explain to her that as a mom, I didn't delight in keeping Blankey away, that it was a hard decision for me, too. "Really, Mom? You don't know what it's like to have something special taken away. Not like you've EVER lost a stuffy! You have no idea how this feels!" (Yup--only 8 and already pulls this level of sass. I'm DOOMED.)

So, I told her about my own Raggedy Ann doll, a doll I treasured when I was a child, and how one day, after my dad had been telling me for days to clean my room, he swept up all the toys littering my floor into a big trash bag and carried them out to our burn barrel (I grew up in the sticks) and lit them all on fire. My Raggedy Ann doll was in the mess of toys in that barrel, and I was simply devastated. "So, I do understand how difficult this is for you. And that makes it even harder for me to take Blankey away, but sweetie, we have to do this right now. I'm so sorry."

During the story, I watched my daughter's face go from contempt and anger, to shock, to disbelief, and finally, back to anger again. "MOM! HOW COULD YOU TELL ME THAT STORY!!!"  And off she stomped, up the stairs, to her room, furious at me for telling her an upsetting story about a stuffed animal. 

When I reached her room to tuck her into bed, she broke down crying, her anger spent. She clung to me, sobbing, sad for her beloved Blankey, sad for my own lost Raggedy Ann. Suddenly, she broke away and ran to her toy box, and rummaging inside, she grabbed a teddy bear and handed it to me. "I want you to keep it. To take the place of your Raggedy Ann doll. So you won't be sad anymore."  

Be still my heart.

No matter how many ways I tried to explain to her that I was OK, that I'd long gotten over my lost lovey, she wouldn't take back the bear. Then I told her the story of how she'd come to own that bear (it was a gift from her Gramps at Disney World on her first trip to the park, when she was just a baby). I saw her face change, and I asked her, "Would you like it back?" She ran back to the toy box, rummaged around to pull out her stuffed horse, Midnight, and offered me a trade. Then she made me promise that I would sleep with Midnight tonight. Looks like I'll have a little extra company in the bed. 

After these dramatic events, I was in Aiden's room, tucking him into bed. He had heard the entire exchange, and we chatted about how sad she was about the Blanket. Suddenly he jumped up, and dragging a chair into his closet, he reached up onto the top shelf and pulled out a plastic linen bag from the corner of the closet. Inside, Aiden's own baby blankets were neatly folded and tucked away. A few months ago, Aiden decided it was time to pack away those sweet baby blankets that he'd treasured as a toddler, and we decided on a linen bag in his closet (put away, but still close--just in case). He plopped the bag on the floor, unzipped a corner, and laid out the three blankets. Running his hand over each one, he settled on one, grabbed it, and ran into his sister's room and tucked it over her, offering his own blanket--the softest of the three--for her to snuggle. 

And darn it, if my heart didn't break again. 

In the span of this one evening, there have been pre-teen meltdowns, stomped feet, angry words, slammed doors and endless complaints. Brad and I have doled out lectures, handed down a grounding, and threatened more consequences. We've laughed, tickled, hugged and kissed. I've wiped away tears--a tiny girl's and my own. And in the course of the day, these kids have exasperated me, driven me to drink, and filled my heart in a way that nothing or no one else has ever been able to. This motherhood gig has to be the hardest, most intensely-frustrating-yet-amazing job I have ever had. And I am so incredibly grateful for it. 

Echoes: the Project

Over the past year, I've become increasingly aware of just how fast my time with my children is passing. Around my birthday and Thanksgiving, it hit me that I had only 5 Christmases left with my son before he will likely leave home for college. I have just a few short years of childhood left before I'm relegated to an advisory role in his life. This terrifies me, and makes me incredibly sad, but also motivates me to really treasure this time, despite being replete with power struggles and mood swings and pre-teen mouthiness. 

I wrote a poem that captures some of my emotions surrounding this time (it's called Echoes and can be found here). I've also decided to let it drive a series of images that explores some of these themes.

In this series, I want to explore the beauty in what I generally find annoying: my children's constant messes. Before you roll your eyes and click away, think about it like this--every day, I nag and yell and scold about the shoes on the floor, the dirty socks stuffed in the couch cushions, the books and papers and toys strewn about. I'm sure you spend a good bit of time doing the same thing, if you are a mom with kids at home. Yet, in this period of reflection, I am fully aware that one day, I will (in some small way) miss this: the clutter that comes with childhood. The noises, the messes, the chaos and unending laundry. And although, I in NO WAY am advocating that we all just embrace the mess and live like hoarders or wild animals, what I am suggesting is that, even in the aggravating reality, there is a beauty to be found. 

Here are a few images I captured today to get the project started. I'd love to hear your feedback on it, or to see you "find the beauty in the mess" in your own home. 

Metamorphosis: A letter to my son

For 2017, I've joined a blog circle of women who will each write a monthly letter to their child(ren). Read mine, then click here to read Evangeline's letter, then follow the links on around--you'll eventually land back here. And if you'd like to receive my letters and blog posts directly to your email inbox, click here to join my mailing list. (I promise, I'm not going to spam you or share your info). 

Dear Aiden,

My sweet boy, as 2016 comes to a close and the promise of an unspoiled year shines before us, I can't help but reflect on how much you have changed in the past year. At 11, with 12 just a few days away, you have spent the year straddling the divide between childhood and adolescence. Some days, you are still the effervescent child you have always been, bubbling with enthusiasm about your latest topic of fascination. You will still sweetly request cuddles at bedtime, begging me to play with your hair or scratch your back while I sing old jazz classics or broadway songs. You don't sigh or pull away when I embrace you, and for a moment, I can still smell the sweet scent of the skin at the nape of your neck and remember the countless nights that I have repeated this ritual. 

Other days, adolescence dominates, and you turn mercurial and moody. You swing from bravado to anger to tears in a moment, and your father and I are breathless trying to keep up with your moves. Your wit and sarcasm have not yet been tempered by time and wisdom, so often you disrespect when you only meant to disarm with laughter. You shrug away my embrace, you deliberately sabotage my attempts at tender moment, and I am frustrated at feeling as if my little boy is slipping farther away. 

These shifts that accompany the raging hormones (and your rapidly growing frame) have left your father and I off-balance. There are days when we feel as if a stranger has moved into our home, and yet in a moments' notice, the sweet boy we recognize can come bounding back again. Dad and I are trying our best to keep up. We are breathing deeply and stretching our patience as far as we can, and yet so often, we find ourselves speaking harshly or reacting with anger. It is incredibly unsettling, to have reached this point in our parenting journey--having accumulated quite a bit of wisdom along the way--and yet to suddenly find yourself as lost and clueless as a new parent again. 

But despite all of the changes that have swept through our home in the past year (a trans-Pacific move, new home, new schools, new friends, new routines, and new phases of life), one thing has never wavered. Not once. My love for you is constant. Despite the angry words we sometimes exchange, the exasperation with which I may speak, I have never once wavered in my love for you and my faith in your potential. I love you so much, Aiden, and no matter how large you may grow or how angry or moody you may act, my love will stretch and grow and shift to accommodate you. And although some days I may fail, I will try my best to give you the space you need to grow. To not suffocate you with my memories and expectations, but allow you to stretch into your full God-given potential. 

This time in your life is so incredibly difficult for all of us--but so very important. And I feel so privileged to stand witness to your transformation. 

Love, always,

Mom

Now click here to visit Evangeline's blog to read her letter for January. 

Dear Aubrey...

My dear daughter, I remember the days when I had to read to you. I remember when you were much more interested in chewing the books than reading them. We would sit in the rocking chair, your diapered bottom planted on my lap, and you would reach up and grab my mouth while I read, jamming your sticky fingers in my mouth unexpectedly. I would laugh and remove them, planting a kiss on your sweet head before distracting you by pointing out a picture on the page. Now you're so big, you don't fit on my lap anymore. You no longer need me to read to you, although you still sweetly seek me out to do so. Your taste in books has changed from talking bunnies and singsong rhymes to Calvin and Hobbes and Captain Underpants; the more potty humor, the better. I have just one request, my girl: never stop sharing books with me. Whether you read to me, or you roll your eyes when I suggest reading to you, just please--let us keep this little ritual forever.

Lemon-thyme blueberry jam

Remember all those blueberries from last week? Well, today I got around to making a delicious jam from the remaining berries. We've had pancakes and muffins and pork with blueberry compote and cobbler and pie--and I'm officially done with blueberries. So, time to preserve some of the summer bounty for later in the year. I'm freezing a bunch of the berries for smoothies and baking, and today I made a batch of jam. 

Whether smoothing it on my morning English muffin or shaking it into a cocktail (oh yes, jam cocktails are a thing and they are uh-maaaaz-ing), I love homemade jam. I especially love simple, pectin-free and preservative-free jams. Just fruit, sugar, lemon and thyme in this recipe--as simple as it gets, but really delicious. I've put the recipe here, for those of you willing to do a little stirring. You can preserve this jam for long-term storage using a traditional boiling-water-bath canning method (as I did), or you could just put it in jars and store it in the freezer (make sure you're using a modern glass canning jar that's freezer safe, not a vintage find, which generally are NOT freezer safe). 

Oh, and one last note--for those of you saying, "Uh, no, that canning stuff is too hard and requires all kinds of expensive equipment--not for me," I made this using a saucepan, a cheap, tall, ten-buck enamelware stock pot from Walmart, a butter knife, a ladle, metal barbecue tongs and a long-handled spoon. Canning does not require a ton of equipment (but the equipment does make things easier--unfortunately, my canning equipment is in a shipping container on a boat somewhere). 

Lemon-thyme Blueberry Jam

Makes 6-7 half-pints

Ingredients

• 10-11 cups fresh or frozen blueberries. (You could also sub in raspberries, blackberries, strawberries, huckleberries, boysenberries, dewberries, gooseberries, or a combo--this recipe is ultra-flexible)
• 5 cups sugar
• 1 lemon, juice and zest (I used a vegetable peeler and peeled all of the zest off in long, wide strips that I fished out of the jam before ladling into jars. You can also use a microplane to zest into fine pieces.)
• 5-10 sprigs of thyme 

Directions

1. Put a glass or stoneware plate in the freezer--you'll use this later for checking the readiness of your jam.
2. Prepare your containers for storing. Are you planning to can using a water bath? Wash your jars in hot soapy water (or the dishwasher) and then keep them warm in a sink of hot water or in the dishwasher's dry cycle. Fill your canning pot with water and bring to a rapid boil. Going to freeze your jam? Wash your jars and dry. 
3. Wash your blueberries and drain. (If you chose strawberries, core and quarter them). *This recipe makes a rustic jam with a chunky texture. If you want a smoother jam, you may want to pulse your berries in a food processor until broken up into small pieces--your choice. I'm lazy, so I threw the whole berries into the pot.
4. Combine all ingredients except the thyme into a large, heavy-bottomed pot (8 qt for most berries, you'll want a bigger pan for strawberries). A wide, shallow pan works best, so if you have a really deep, large skillet--use that.  If not, a stock pot is fine, but the wider the better. Heat berry mixture on medium heat until sugar dissolves, then turn up the heat to medium-high.  Bring mixture to a boil--but make sure it doesn't boil over (turn the burner to a level that can maintain a boil that can't be stirred down, but isn't trying to climb the sides and spill over). Stir frequently.  After sugar is dissolved and berries have softened, use a potato masher or the back of a spoon to press berries just enough to release some of their juices and partially break up the berries, keeping the texture chunky. After you've finished mashing, add the sprigs of thyme and continue to boil mixture, stirring frequently to prevent scorching. Mixture will foam up and expand, and then shrink back as it cooks. Use metal spoon with thin edge to skim foam from surface, if near the end of the cook time, you have foam on the surface of the jam. (I didn't have any foam, but results will vary depending on the berry).  
5. Continue boiling until mixture visibly thickens. Grab the cold plate you stashed in the freezer earlier and spoon a bit of jam onto the plate. Return the plate to the freezer for about 2 minutes. (Remove jam pot from heat while waiting for gel test.) At the end of the 2 minutes, pull out the plate and tilt it sideways. If the jam runs quickly--it isn't done. Put the pot back on the burner and keep stirring for another 3-5 minutes. Do the tilt test again: if it stays put or just runs really slowly, try running a finger through the jam on the plate. Does your finger leave behind a defined channel in the jam? If so--your jam is ready.  If not, continue cooking, testing again with a chilled plate every 5 minutes until it has gelled.

Now your jam is ready. You can either refrigerate it (it'll keep about 2 months), freeze it (you get 6 months to devour it all) or water process it in jars to store for a year at room temp. 

For water process canning

Remove thyme sprigs and any large pieces of citrus peel (if used). Add hot jam to hot jars leaving 1/4" of headspace, carefully place in the boiling water, cover pot with lid, and water process for 15 minutes. Turn off heat, remove lid from pot and leave jars in hot water for 5 minutes. Remove your jars from the canner, place on a folded towel (hot glass + cold marble/steel/granite counter = exploding glass and a big mess) and let the jar rest undisturbed for 12 hours. (This is a really basic summary--for the full process and details, visit the Ball website.)

 

An afternoon of 'Roominating'

Last Christmas, in our quest for sophisticated toys that stimulate imagination, we bought Aubrey a Roominate building set. The Roominate sets consist of interlocking plastic pieces that are designed to be open-ended, allowing the child's imagination to take center-stage, as well several simple circuits and various electrical components that can be used to create all sorts of fun things (ceiling fans, a working washing machine, windmills, a circular saw, and more). Although the toys are marketed to girls, they don't play to gender stereotypes and allow a girl to harness her brain while engaging in imaginative play.

Aubrey loved her Roominate out of the gate, but then it moved its way to the back of the toy lineup, where it languished in a bin for about 6 months. Last week, however, Aubrey pulled it back out again and has enjoyed building a house for her Littlest Pet Shop puppies, complete with light and ceiling fan.  She played for hours and was so proud of her final result. I was just happy she sat in a lovely pocket of light in her room to build--what can I say, I'm a photographer through-and-through.

Raiding the fridge

My son. My little bottomless pit. It seems every time I turn around, he is scouring the pantry shelves or searching the refrigerator doors for something to eat. 

Wet and wild summer days

Days of flash flooding have prevented us from enjoying the beach or the waterpark, but it hasn't stopped the kids from making their own wet fun in the front yard. Puddle jumping and scooter splashing have kept them busy and content these past few days.

Rain, rain, go away.

Poor Blondie. Usually an ever-present sidekick to my daughter, she's been left inside while the kids splash in the rain puddles and run through the showers.

Hello, stranger.

My, my...has it really been 4 months since my last post? How is that possible? We've been having too much fun this summer, it would seem.

In May, our family flew back to the mainland to visit our family in our home state of Texas. The kiddos and I stayed an entire month, my husband joining us for two weeks of travel time before returning back to Hawaii for work. Although a month sounds like a long, leisurely visit, it was truly a whirlwind. We began our adventure (all four of us) in San Antonio with my husband's family, then drove down to Houston to meet my brand-spanking-new niece, then drove back to San Antonio for a few days before heading north to Lake Texoma to be with my dad and stepmom. From the lake, we drove back down south to Fort Worth, visiting a dear aunt and uncle before putting my husband on a plane back to Hawaii. After dropping him at the airport, the kids and I stayed in Fort Worth a few more days, then headed north to Oklahoma City to see my grandmother and extended family before moseying back to Lake Texoma to spend time with my mom. After that, it was back to Dallas-Fort Worth to catch a flight home. Whew!

During our trip, we played, danced, climbed, swam, explored, and ate our weight in delicious Mexican food. It was such a wonderful time. Here are a few photos I captured during our adventures:

(Click any image to enlarge)

The day after returning home from our trip, my son began a 5-week intensive cello course. The class met every day, five days per week, from 2:45-3:45p.m.  In downtown Honolulu. Doesn't sound like a big deal, until you realize that means a daily commute across the island in rush hour traffic in the city with THE WORST traffic in the U.S. Ugh. Aiden's hour-long lesson required a 4-hour time commitment each day, and although it was a beating, it was so worth it. Aiden fell in love with the cello and learned so much--seeing him play the final concert was worth the hours of traffic with two whiney kids. Well...mostly.

After cello camp, we entered into the 'camp phase' of summer. Aiden spent three nights at junior high church camp, and then the following week, he and his sister spent a week at sleep-away camp. That's right--Brad and I had one GLORIOUS week sans children. The kids had a blast at camp--Aubrey actually cried when she left camp--and Brad and I thoroughly enjoyed a week of dinners out, adult conversation, and a clean house that stayed clean.

After camp week, it was time to begin our homeschooling year. And that takes us into the present. We are officially three weeks into our third academic year of homeschooling. This year brings a new curriculum and a new set of adventures. The kids are (so far) enjoying the new schedule and curriculum and slowly we are establishing our new routine--which means I finally have some free time to edit the backlog of photos from this summer and update the blog. I photographed my first birth and have some other exciting news to share in the days to come, so stay tuned for the updates!