Spring 2008 arrives! - for the 3rd or 4th time.

Here's the little Olive out for a springy stroll. Things are starting to dry up again, so we ventured outside to see what we could see. The discoveries? Hector, sticks, rocks that taste bad, a dead birdie, snow that tastes bad, the neighbors, and everything that could be scooped with a little plastic shovel.

roundup

Saturday we braved the blizzard and went up to Breezy Point for little Levi Toftness' birthday party - the big 2! The cowboy theme was a riot. We didn't do a very good job taking pictures, but here are few keepers.

Micah and Andrew - one word: hooligans.

Micah - moonshine?
















The birthday boy licking green frosting off his thumb - so precious.

Who knew putting a mum out mid-April would be premature?

seriously

Alright - yesterday when I wrote that piece about winter/spring intermingling, I wasn't exactly prepared to stand my ground if by chance, say, an April 26th snow storm should hit. Taking the forecast into consideration would have been a good choice for me. I'm trying to hold myself together and admire God's creativity...and humor.
"There is a time for everything, a season for every activity under heaven." Ecclesiastes 3:1
I guess this year's snowboarding season is extended.
And may this also console our hearts, once again -- "No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn." Thanks, Hal. Promise?

O Spring, where art thou?

Yesterday I remembered that my Country Home magazine should be coming in the mail any day now, so I've been keeping one eye on the mailbox as I wait expectantly. This afternoon I noticed it was a wet mess outside as I considered the trek to the end of the driveway (at least 50 yds round trip!), so I donned a rain jacket and set sail. I didn't realize that the chill of winter was also making a temporary, yet determined comeback, and was nearly a popsicle when I finally (yes, added drama) got back inside - safe, sound, and slightly soggy.
Here's the thing: even though I don't exactly relish the regression of our current weather pattern, I've also made the brilliant discovery that -- it's God's weather. It's God's earth. He's in control. Not that I didn't know that before, but I'm trying to remain conscious of it - especially when it's oh so un-balmy outside. Hopefully now that I'm so enlightened I won't complain about the rain and cold. If someone openly criticized my artwork I would be very sad. God hears everything we say, so it's an insult to the artist when we gripe about the elements. As I continue to pray for warm, cheery weather, I will contentedly bask in the glory of God's creativity...or at least try.

We are here! We are here! We are here!

A note from Whoville (or at least what feels like one of Dr. Suess' lands of craziness and irony):
My sister's saying I don't blog enough. I'm just trying to keep up with my precious toddling noodleheimer, so forgive my scattered thoughts.
Lately the basic format of a day is wake up, eat, go outside, take a nap, eat, go outside, take a nap, and so forth. (Along with some other un-pleasantries that come with a diapered babe.)
Let me take a moment to further explain the photos.
I pushed Oli around the yard on the tricycle for quite some time yesterday. It was like pushing a chalkboard being scraped by fingernails - the wheels could use a little oil.
Do I need to explain the dancing street urchin? I was in a hurry.
The reason I sepia'd the 'old man' picture, is because Oliver was the pinnacle of fashion faux pas, wearing navy, black, and brown all at once. Not his fault, mine. I didn't want anyone to know, so I changed the color...
Oliver's teeth are amazing.
I'm happy to announce the breakthrough to sign language that Oliver has recently made. He can sign 'more,' 'all done,' and as you can see 'please.' I didn't want to teach him to sign at first because I thought it was just a silly thing that over achieving mothers made their children do. Once again I am humbled, put in my place by the discovery that I know nothing and have nothing but judgemental thoughts most of the time. In an act of desperation, I resorted to 'try' sign language to prevent Olives from grunting and whining about everything he wanted. Thank you, moms, for the brilliancy of baby signs. Along with the encouragement from my dear speech-pathology master Megan, I succumbed to the wonderful world of silence, which is truly golden.
Next allow me to point out another mommy blunder - letting a one year old feed himself spaghetti. I thought I would never be that stupid. My brains have officially left my head and gone somewhere unbeknownst to me. Yesterday I had the rare privilege of going to the salon to get my hair done. There is a dear friend and miracle worker who transforms me from beast to beauty ( my hair anyway), Aubry. What they say of stylists is true - they...ahem, we... are also counselors. Aubry has the divine blessing of a little daughter, Adison, who inspires her in every way. Are you wondering why this subject is not a new paragraph? It'll tie together, here: Aubry said she thought all her clutziness and absentmindedness was a result of being pregnant, and after she had the baby she would return to her normal intelligent self. But after Addy arrived, she discovered that 'normal' becomes a new state of mind, and that 'back to normal' will never exist. Isn't she wise? Oh Aub, I love you. All this to say - spaghetti is everywhere and I'm to blame.
And now the real kicker, not pictured -- my parents and sneaky little sis went behind Oliver's and my back and last night surprised us with the early birthday gift (for Anna and me) of a plane ride to Dayton, OH, where Oliver and I will spend a long weekend over Ann's birthday. This is a dream come true. I'm always wanting to surprise people with this or that, then my own family (Andrew was in on it, too), pulls a fast one on me. Oh dear. I'm overwhelmed with shock, awe, and gratitude. I love you, family!

Me and my bike

Olives and Daddy dancing - note Oliver's outfit. I had him all ready for bed, then Andrew decided the fam should go for a walk, so I had to make sure he was toasty warm. I hope none of the neighbors saw us out.

Oliver looking quite like an old man in his sweats, crocs, and skinny little ankles

Looking quite like a little hippo in his teeth

Signing 'please' (you're supposed to rub your chest with one hand, he rubs his tummy with two)

The effects of spaghetti

sticks and stones and silly boys

what separates us from the animals:

Did you ever think you could communicate with animals when you were a kid? I remember I used to hear a bird tweet, then I would whistle back, then the bird, then me. It went on for a while like that, until I grew weary of 'entertaining' the chickadee or what have you. To my chagrin, the little birdie always continued his song long after I tired, reminding me that he was talking to himself, not me. Anyway, this was brought back to mind today when I began to have a little chat with a spring chick, hoping Oliver would be so impressed with my mythical skills. Turns out he didn't care and neither did the bird, they both just kept on rocking their own worlds. Humph.

Our little buddy

Some pictures Andrew took the other day while the little goose was out helping Daddy grill; also Oliver holding his two favorite toys.

Installment II: A day in the life...

The first photo here shows Oliver looking rather tough. The story behind the carpet burn on his forhead? I was at the computer, Oliver was playing with every ball in the house -basket, volley, ping-pong, exercise, e&.- near my crafting desk. (I use the word 'craft' loosely to mean creating and inventing, not painting little wooden cut-outs. Just thought I'd clear up any questioning of my character). So there he was playing so vigorously with balls, when suddenly I heard him saying, 'ba ba,' in a panicked voice, then start to whimper. I looked over and all I could see were two little feet kicking away, the rest of his frame burrowed under my desk. Stuck. What choice did I have other than to pull him, by the wiggling foot, out of there?
Hopefully Oli and I both learned a lesson from this misadventure - he, not to crawl under my desk in search of a lost ball; and I, a better understanding of how parenting is a glimps at the way God feels about us.
Last weekend Andrew, Oliver and I had the privilege of worshipping with Mom, Dad and the fam at their church. The pastor talked about Samson and his deadly desire that essentially got him killed. He wanted something so badly, that he couldn't see the danger in pursuing it, just like Oliver went after the ball even though he knew the space was too tight for him. I feel bad about the pain I caused in dislodging him, but the pain of being stuck in that place would have been far worse. Imagine how God must feel when he has to pull us out of our messes. I'm sure his heart aches seeing us so blinded by our excitement that we can't foresee disaster, but he loves us enough that he doesn't want us to stay in that place. If we cry for help, he'll rescue us. He's always there, waiting to pull us out by the kicking foot. Those are my theological thoughts for today.
The second photo is the view out Olive's bedroom window this morning. Remarkable.
P. S. Oliver doesn't know how to smile without the involvement of his nose.

The place we call home...

Almost everything made of wood in my house was crafted by my dear husband (besides the old garage sale and flea market finds). The irony? All the building was done while going to school for cabinetry, and now that he's a hard working professional, he spends all time and energy creating for paying customers. What the heck?! Example: whenever I see a cunning little shelf or any piece made of wood that I could put to use, I tell Andrew I want to buy it. He comes back with, "I can make that, don't buy it!" What do I say? "Prove it." Apparently I don't pay him enough... So you see, it would be easier for you to get a new piece than it would be for me.

These are for you, Jolene. I'll get some outside photos when we've got some vegetation. Right now it's looking quite homely.

Oli's bedroom.
Also the Olive's room. I wrote a verse on the wall, but it's pretty light... "I am like an Olive tree, thriving in the house of God." Psalm 54:8
Our room. Andrew built all the furniture for a school project. Hard to really see what's going on here...
This is kind of a rough shot of the living room...but I was trying to fit as much as possible in one picture. Impossibly ridiculous.

As you can see, I pretty much put anything to use I find laying around. Half a dining room table? Sure, I'll screw it to the wall (it actually was whole, I had Anj take it apart. He's so patient with me!). I am teased tirelessly for having empty frames on the wall, but I say they make enough of a statement on their own, they don't need pictures (plus they're a wacky size that's not so accommodating). I just got new white curtains for the bedroom, which I'm pleasantly surprised about. I like them and didn't know I would. I also reupholstered the living room chairs two summers ago, so good thing you can only see half of one. Not my finest work, but it was a fun learning experience. I fashioned some pillows and a quilt for Oliver's room, too. O my cousin Kelly and aunt Hopper would be severely disappointed if ever they got a close view of anything I sew. Ever heard of winging it? That's my motto when I'm at my machine. My pictures of the family and guest rooms wouldn't fit in this post, plus Oliver scurried into those pictures and started tearing things apart while I was snapping the shot. Good grief.
Anyway, our home in a few pics and a lot of words.

Curious

holy ba

The other night my little pumpkin said 'ba' in his sleep. Twice. It means ball, not to be confused with 'baa' (what the sheepy says). Oliver loves balls and he won't let me forget it. He could spot something round (no pun intended) anywhere we go, think it's a ball, then animatedly say the word over and over and over. You should see him at Jess and Jonny's basketball games... Yes, he's a little sports fanatic at this young age. When we watch the Twins he sits attentively, clapping at all the right times. I'm convinced he'll be a star athlete - the next Joe Mauer. Though, judging by the size of his parents, he'll probably be a basketball mvp.

Note from Andrew

This seems a bit morbid for my blog, but Andrew insisted that I post it. Here it goes...
Though I didn't witness this myself, Anj says shortly after he lit the first bonfire, it looked like things were about to get messy. As he was unwinding the yards of garden hose to tame the blaze, he suddenly spotted a ball of fire coming from the pile. A flaming rabbit shot right out! Peter cottontail scurried past him (on his way to a snowdrift I hope). Messy indeed! Silly rabbit. Tricks are for kids.

Spring cleanup

Two of the best smells? Wood smoke and spring air. Last night we experienced both.

Andrew is a lumberjack. He has a passion for chainsaws and cutting trees, resulting in brush piles that could challenge sky scrapers. Though lawn mowing isn't quite in season, we've prepared for it by extending the yard another ten feet west - by way of fallen trees and blazing brush piles. I'm not a fan of monstrous yards ( I don't mind mowing, but I like the privacy a canopy of oaks offers). However, the moment my husband spies even a single dead leaf, I can kiss that particular tree good-bye.

We had two of these giant stacks out back until last night when the yard expansion project began. Andrew & I hauled sticks while Oliver helped cut down on the load by eating his share. It was actually quite pleasant to get out in the fresh spring breeze and do some hard work. I love togetherness.

And when the piles were loaded high, they were ignited. A beautiful sight - Olives was mesmerized. So was I.

The work didn't stop there, though. Next came the poking and the pushing and the watching and the sweating. Glorious. The pay off? Today we smell like well roasted marshmallows and our eyebrows are singed. Our cheeks are still rosy from catching the glow of the fire, and we're one step closer to connecting yards with our neighbor.