An unschooling kind of day

LI woke up this morning still battling a migraine that decided to make an appearance yesterday.  The girls graciously let me sleep in, trying to kick the darn thing.  But this mama knew that we probably could do with a change of pace for the day.

And I am so grateful that this view:

is just 30 minutes away from our house.

We loaded up a few snacks and the dog and headed up to enjoy the last of the fall colors.  We found a beautiful little park at the top of the ridge overlooking the valley.  

And so, for art class, we drew the view:

For science, we read the signs along the trail, discussing forest fires and wildlife along the way.

The littles got in a little extra PE:

 

While a certain someone held an impromptu dance class:

We look leaf rubbings, drew pine cones in our nature journals, learned about explorers who blazed trails through our backyard.

Ty thoroughly enjoyed being outside, and did a little investigating of his own:

But mostly we reveled in the majesty of God's creation that He allows us to live in:

My brain is mush

This was my last 24 hours:

10:15 PM - Bid the last of our beautiful home group friends good night.  Load up the car and kids.

10:45 PM - Arrive at my parents' house, get the kids tucked into their beds, set out hunting stuff, go to bed and pretend to sleep.

5:30 AM - Alarm goes off.  Get up, get dressed, pack lunch.

6:15 AM - Leave for hunting spot.

6:45 AM - Unload four-wheelers and head into hunting area.

7:00 AM - Dad gets a flat on his four-wheeler.  Spend 20 minutes trying to fix said flat, to no avail.

7:30 AM - Continue into hunting area with Dad driving on a flat tire.

8:00 AM - 2 PM - Hunting.  Discover that my blasted thermos has developed a leak and lost approximately 3/4 of my coffee on the way in.  Lots of laughs, lots of does, but no bucks to shoot.  This is, however, the view from our blind.  We really suffer for Jesus out there, you know...

                       

2 PM - Head back to truck, praying the entire time for Daddy as he drives his broken four-wheeler.  Sometimes I wonder if my daddy's guardian angels just look at each other, shake their heads, and say, "Here we go again!"

4 PM - Arrive back at parents' ranch, change clothes and pack bags.

4:30 PM - Leave ranch and drive 1 1/2 hours to town in neighboring state for 4th grade playoff football game.

6 PM - Drop Jerome off at the field for warm-ups, take the girls to find coffee for Mommy and dinner for them.

7 PM - Arrive back at game field to eat dinner and cheer on our boys.  And yes, all 21 of them are my boys.

8:30 PM - Hug and comfort our sweet guys after a heartbreaking 6-0 loss, eliminating them from the playoffs.  Find a drive-thru to get dinner for Jerome and a post-game snack for our 3 bottomless pits.

9 PM - Leave Farmington for the hour drive home.

10 PM - Finally get home, get the girls in bed, and find a few minutes to breathe.

I'm actually impressed I got all this down coherently.  But my brain is now shutting down, so it's time for bed for this mommy. 

Preserving Memories

I'm not sure why, but I've been on a canning kick lately.  It's something my grandma taught me when I was a little girl.  The last month of summer always meant jars and hot water baths and that satisfying little "pop".  It also meant peeling and chopping the never-ending supply of fruit and vegetables they grew.  My grandma's gardens were ENORMOUS!!!  Or, at least they seemed to reach into forever to my little eyes.

Perhaps, part of my canning kick has been due to a desire for those simpler days.  Days when my biggest concern was how many peaches I could eat before Grandma shooed me out of the orchard, or how many hummingbirds I could catch.  Oh yes, I was quite the hummer catcher. Built cages for them and everything.  

Perhaps the another cause for my kick are my winter memories - opening one of those jars I worked so hard on, smelling and tasting a bit of summer during the dreary cold months.  

No matter the cause, my family has certainly not been complaining about my latest craze.  I've put up more jars of jam than I care to count at the moment - apricot, apricot berry, peach, peach berry, and pear berry.  Almost all of the fruit came from either friends' trees or local orchards.  Their over abundance became my blessing.  

I looked online for recipes, then quickly realized that I was just going to do what Grandma did - throw it all in a pot, then add ingredients until it tasted good.

Each jar that "pops" reminds me of those treasured days with my grandma - days that seemed so ordinary then but are precious now.  I pray my girls have lots of those days to treasure when they're my age.

When your heart stops

We all have those moments.

Moments when your heart leaps into your throat and your breathing stops.

Moments where nothing else matters.

Moments that give you tunnel vision.

Mine was yesterday morning, when I heard her scream.

The scream that isn't caused by a pestering sister, but rather a sudden and terrifying pain.

Those are the moments in which your mama heart stops.

I ran into the room to find my Madi girl on the ground, a huge tv on the floor next to her.  I had asked her to put something away in the closet, not remembering that the tv on the rolling cart was in the front of the closet.  She grabbed the cart to move it out of the way, the tv lost its balance on the cart and fell over.  It hit her forehead, chest, and shoulder on its way to the ground.  

There is nothing like the fear and adrenaline that rushes through a mother's body when her baby is hurt.  

The what-ifs, I-should-haves, and whys course through your mind.  And all you can think about is making sure your baby is ok.

This is one of those moments you are so grateful for all the hours your husband has spent in coaching clinics.  A call to him and a call to our pediatrician's nurse confirmed that we were, yet again, going to get to visit our favorite ER nurses.  

An hour later, we left the ER with a mild concussion and chest and shoulder bruises.  She's got a raging headache, sore body, and yucky tummy.  She's mellower than she's EVER been in her life.  But she'll be ok.  

And my heart rate is slowly returning to normal.  

Although I'm not sure the tv will ever be the same. 

Summer is...

Baseball

Hammocks

Sidewalk chalk

Memories

Snuggles

Friends

Creativity

Giggles

Smiles

The chance to be a kid

Her Tree

We came to see you today, the girls and I.  We hadn't been back since we planted your tree.   Maybe a part of me kept hoping that if I stayed away, you'd come back.  I'd wake up and find the last two months to have just been a horrible dream.

I miss you, more and more each day.  Each day the reality sets in a little more.  Some days, I can think of you and smile, sweet moments dancing across my mind.  Others are harder.  Much harder.  Like today.  Today, I miss you deeply.  I can't think of you without crying.  Or wishing for one more hug.

And so, we came to see your tree.

It's still small, like you.  Young, full of life, full of potential.  And beautiful.  Just like you.

It will grow quickly, we were told.   It will provide shade, protection for the thousands of children that will play in your favorite park through the years.  

There is beauty and new life beginning at your tree.  A tiny lady bug, just like the hundreds you found as a child.

A swarm of honey bees have discovered the tender, yellow-white blooms that cover your branches.  You would have loved the smell.

Your oldest niece stood with your tree for a long time, rubbing the bark, touching the leaves.  I think she feels closer to you here, as if you're still watching over her.

She misses you, deeply.

As do I.

I stood underneath your branches much longer than I expected to.  I didn't expect it to hurt like it did.  

I'm glad we came to see you today.  I have missed you.

How Do You Say Goodbye?

The girls are bathed and in bed. Tomorrow, they will put on their pretty dresses. At least one will ask for "fancy hair". Jerome will put on his suit and tie, I will wear a bright blue dress and the necklace I gave her last Christmas.

We will pick up the gorgeous floral arrangements that have been delivered in the last 8 days, and head to the church.

Has it really been 8 days?

I will arrange flowers, check with the tech guys, the musicians, our pastor.

I will try to keep myself busy right up to the last minute. I struggle to comprehend what we are truly doing tomorrow, and the tasks are so much easier to deal with than the emotions. The emotions bring tears, and heartache, and loss. And they hurt.

Because how do you say goodbye?