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Send help. Please.

In an attempt to document the true and actual facts of my life right now I must tell you that I have not left my house today. I have not even tasted daylight. Well, in all truth and actuality, I was so desperate for fresh air and sunshine that I went out to get the mail and tried to walk really slow so that I could have a few minutes of blue sky. The trouble is this - jobs.

My kids have worked really hard this summer and done really hard jobs. And by kids - I mean boys because Ava hasn't done any jobs this summer. This is definately my fault and a combination of these unfortunate factors:
1) Ava is our third child and I am tired of fighting, singing, tricking the kids into doing jobs.
2) Ava is our first girl - so I have gone easy on her and am paying for it now.
3) Ava was born with a special gift of smiling at her job chart and then disappearing for long enough that I forget that there was something she was supposed to do. (If this sounds familiar it is because she inherited this genetic blessing from her mother.)
So the buck stops here and now. I took Ava gently to her room and told her that she could come out when the first job on her job chart (cleaning her room) was completed. Only I totally underestimated the standoff ability of this 5 year old. She has been in her room the entire day. No lunch, No snacks. Which means I have been here at home the entire day. Send help. please.

I so want my kids to learn to love hard work. I want them to love a challenge and not fear that which is difficult. I want them to feel the sense of accomplishment that can only come after you have done something that you didn't think you could do. I want them to have the mountains and not settle for the valleys because they are afraid of mountain climbing. And so I will stay and wait. I will be patient (hopefully, maybe) and loving (definately) and try, try and try again to teach someone that I love so much something that I think is so important. But if you could send some milk and eggs they would be much appreciated.

Oh Joy!

Toddler + preschooler = fun. Joyful moments are easy pickings for Sophie and Ava. Bubbles, popsicles, balloons, flowers - they all send the girls over the moon. It's like the first miners that got to California - dip in your pan, scoop out some gold. But, of course, as kids grow older balloons lose their luster, popsicles are old news and bubbles don't really do much for my boys these days. For them the easy pickings are gone and they are mining now for the rare but really good golden moments. I think that is why this is one of my favorite pictures of the summer:

Now, to coax a smile like this from Ava - all you need is a 10 cent glow in the dark bracelet. Sophie will beam at you this way if you let her pet your puppy. But Sam is a tougher customer. He's a happy kid but he's seen alot in his pre-teen years and he is harder to impress. The smile of pure joy in this photo is somewhat a rare gem. Sam is smiling because he designed his car all by himself and this year cut it out on the scroll saw by himself. He sanded and painted it on his own. Then (5 min before race time) his dad helped him put on the wheels and axels. But the derby gods were smiling on Sam that night and his car didn't lose. He won the pinewood derby. (what?!) I don't care much about the winning. ( I was actually kind of worried about the other finalist and wanted to make sure he was happy, which he was) But for 45 minutes I soaked in the pure unbridled joy of a 10 year old - which I wouldn't call extremely rare but felt like finding the mother lode nonetheless.

My pleasure

My husband's books are pristine. He leaves a very small carbon footprint on his books - in fact he leaves not a single clue that he was ever there. The spines of his books are barely bent much less broken and you won't find any chocolate crumbs between any of his pages. His books are universally hardbound and stored by category and height. They are beautiful. But they are not mine. My books are messy. I am not afraid to wield a pen when reading and I have been known to attack some very interesting books with said pen. If I am going on a flight and I want a light, cheap book for the plane - I will buy (gasp, shame) paperback. And when I am sleepy at night because I had to stay up and finish the next chapter I have never, ever, ever once in my life gotten up to find a bookmark. I dog ear baby. But don't you think for one second that I love my books any less. Because that is not true. I just believe that the book was made for me, I was not made for the book. I think that my books serve at the pleasure of Heather - and it is my pleasure to leave them open face down on my bed while I check on my girls. It is also my pleasure to read my books in the tub or at the beach or during breakfast. If you think I was put on this Earth to take care of my books - you have got another thing coming. Just kidding. (sort of.) My books take care of me. They are there whenever I want or need them and I never stress about them.

That is why I don't even have a whiff of guilt about not posting regularly this summer. This blog was made to serve me - not the other way around. And it serves me quite well. I love that I have a space where I can write down the ramblings in my heart, note the small miracles of the day or share photos of my growing kids with my far away family. But I have a long list of things that truly need my attention and that I attend to every day and this blog is not on that list. So what does the future hold? Wish that I knew. But I can say this for sure: there is adventure coming up, there are long hard belly laughs, short bitter tears, glorious moments of joy and long stretches of hard work. And I am so glad that I can document them here... join me for the journey. At your pleasure, of course.