What the Garden Grows

 This Spring I was far too sick to keep on top of my garden.  But I managed to toss some seeds in the ground, and we have all delighted in the growing things in our yard....even the weeds.  This year it really feels like a "hobby garden", with barely enough produce to feed ourselves, and sometimes not quite enough.  But what I love most of all is seeing the boys enjoy it, and begin to understand where our food comes from.

Falcon Lake with the Toews Family

Our morning coffee break view.

Last weekend we went camping with some very good friends of ours.  They have to be very good friends to go camping with us crazy people, don't they?  Because of course we couldn't just go camping.  We had to drive to the city first and rent a kayak!  And figure out how to tie a kayak to the top of the truck!  And figure out how to get the kayak to the water!  And figure out how to lose our glasses when the kayak tips over (okay that wasn't on the camping trip, that was just last night....but you see how troublesome we Thiessens are!?).  The Toews family puts up with us, and even seems to like us despite it all.  We like them too.  They're silly.  Like this:

Karen and Danika :)

The boys LOVED the boat.  They fought over who got to go out with Dad.

Who's captain of this boat anyway?!

Breakfast.  I just happened to capture that peaceful moment before all hell broke loose.

Another Thiessen adventure.  We packed up in a thunderstorm, which was good.  It was the boy's first shower in three days!

The whole get-up and proof that I was there.

When the yogurt hits the mat

I don't allow myself the luxury of many beautiful things.  With boys, it's just not realistic to think that beautiful things will make it long or far, and I get so tired of saying good-bye to beautiful things.  I just needed to cut out the emotional reaction to each and every CRASH.  Because there are so many CRASHes in our house.

Out went the gorgeous thin glasses in iridescent rainbow colors - one CRASH at a time.  Out went my great-grandmother's crocheted afghan (with scissors instead of crashes).  Out went my fancy crystal vase, my glass salt and pepper shakers, my ceramic african violet pot.  Pretty soon my heart felt like it was in as many pieces as the shards of my butter dish and I made up my mind: No more pretty things until the boys are older.

Then I began doing yoga.

In yoga I breathe more intentionally.  I slow down and allow my attention to be drawn to things I am grateful for.  I am grateful for the things in my yard that are pretty, and will always grow back (even if the neighbor kids mow down my lilies this year, they will grow back next year).  I am grateful for the colored glass in a high window that (so far, fingers crossed) the boys haven't figured out how to reach, but even if they did I would know that each glass cost less than a dollar (thank-you thrift store!).  I am grateful for colors on the wall. I am grateful for smiling boys.  I am grateful for sunshine.  I am grateful...most often, I repeat, I am grateful for this mat.

I say it again and again.  I am grateful for this mat.  I am grateful for this time I have to do yoga.  I am grateful for the way I feel after I have done yoga.  I am grateful that my children get to see their mother working hard to stay healthy, mentally and physically, and having fun doing it.  I am grateful for little boys that giggle and laugh when their mother asks them to do "Dead Bug", and then they DO it!  I am grateful for this mat; this mat where I laugh and cry and remember and breathe and feel strong and feel beautiful.

To do yoga, my mat needs to stay unrolled.  It needs to stay accessible.  Otherwise I will not take the time, I will not remember my need, I will get complacent.  So my mat stays unrolled on my bedroom floor.  And the dog chews his toys on it, leaving fluff and plastic behind.  Once Linus even puked on it in the night.  The boys drive their race cars over "the bumpy road".  Occasionally a child wanders into the room with hands covered in yogurt or strawberry juice, which make their way onto the yoga mat.  We all walk across it daily leaving dust and hair and footprints on it.  And each evening before bed I shake it out, step onto my mat, and find I am still grateful for this mat.  This beautiful thing I am allowed, in the midst of my rambunctious, sticky, messy, loud life.  I have a beautiful thing.  My yoga mat.

21 weeks.  And yes, that is batman.

Pot Heads

 Seamus says:

(holding out a pepperoni) Do you want my cucumbers?

(pointing to his chin) Mommy, will you wipe my feelings off?

Mom!  A beard is stuck in your marble!

(pointing to a freckle) You have a whistle.

I'm a good jobber eating my ice cream.

I am a-scused! (Can I please be excused?)

Fank-oo.  You're welcome.

(Luke is sobbing on the floor with his face in his hands because I said he couldn't have another cookie) What's yong?  Are you okay?  Is it your face?

(singing to himself) The itsy bitsy Spider Man went up the water spout.

July 8, 2013  Seamus pees on the toilet for the first time!

Luke says:

You know what, Dad?  A minute is an hour for an ant because they're so small.

Star Wars know the dark side of the forest.

(crying loudly in Wal-Mart) But Mom!!  My brother and I don't have any balls!

Mom, you know what I just did?  I backfired in that cup just now (back washed).

Wouldn't it be great if our whole upstairs was a tent and we were camping in it?  We could even sleep on the floor.

Peanut butter makes my breath stick together.  Like when I'm sick.

July 12, 2013  Luke washes dishes after dinner for the first time!

17 apples, farewell.

 
Our apple tree lost a big branch.  It's biggest branch. I'm not sure when exactly it happened, but this evening I cut the branch cleanly down.  It had 17 apples on it.  Just to make sure we weren't wasting good apples, I bit into one, only to find it sour.  17 apples cut down before their prime.

A pity.  A shame.  A pie!

Drumroll Please..........

 

 

It's a Boy!

Dear little tomato,

A typical bedroom scene:  yoga mat with race car and bicycle, tiny smudgy hand prints on the mirror.

The website says you are the size of a tomato the same week my tomatoes in the garden are finally coming ripe!  We haven't gotten to eat any of our tomatoes because your big brother Seamus keeps picking them and eating them, or feeding them to Linus.  You've heard Linus barking, but what you don't know is that Linus loves you a ton - even though you're not born yet!  Linus loves your big brothers as his own brothers and waits at the door for them when they are gone.  Luke and Seamus have started taking turns feeding Linus his scoop of dog food morning and night.  They are going to be excellent, responsible big brothers for you my little tomato.

Right now you weigh about half a pound.  Gain eight more pounds and you will be exactly the same weight as your brother Luke, the day he was born.  Half a pound makes me imagine half a block of butter.  You weigh the same as my chocolate chip cookie dough recipe calls for.  Granted, I usually substitute some of that with peanut butter or oil.  When you grow up a little more you will get to try those cookies.  It's your Grandma Helene's recipe.  Your Dad's favorite.

We are nearly halfway through your incubation.  That reminds me of the caterpillars we watched this Spring.  They grew and grew and GREW, and then they incubated.  They sat in those cocoons for 2 long weeks.  Those weeks seemed interminable to those of us waiting for butterflies.  But they were worth it.  The butterflies came out and were so beautiful!  We are looking forward to you coming out of your cocoon as well. 

When you come, tomatoes will be long gone in the compost pile and in our bellies.  Your brothers will be even bigger and better helpers.  Linus will want to sniff your soft little head.  And fresh warm cookies will definitely be on the menu in the deepest part of Winter.  Your Grammy and Grandpa will be here from California to meet you for the first time.  And we will celebrate the New Year with you as our special gift for 2014, little tomato.  Grow and grow and grow.  You're not quite ripe, yet.