deep thoughts by Isaac

Elliot and Isaac are playing David and Goliath with a halloween pumpkin and a piece of foam. "Are you sending a dog to fight me?," Goliath (Isaac) sneers. "NO", David (Elliot) shouts, "I come in the name of the Lord."

The game stops. I can see the wheels turning in Isaac's transparent mind. "What if Goliath had won? What would the world look like?" Big discussions from big questions.

summer sliding

The weather has been nothing short of divine with weather in the 80s, low humidity, and clear skies stretching as far as we can see. Perfect weather for the slip n slide. We pulled it out this week and tomfoolery ensued immediately. There were trains and bridges and flips and spins. I think they broke every slip n slide rule there is, short of sliding down it holding a switchblade. Good fun was had by all with no broken bones and lots of laughter.

all smiles

love the excitement and action of this photo-pure Audrey

summer at its finest

We make it a point not to overschedule. We are not good on the run. I, personally, am very bad on the run and it is well-documented that a cranky mama is bad for the family. I feel rushed and discombobulated and never in one place long enough to feel settled. Sometimes I see the world rushing past me as people have playdates and practices and parties and we stick with our one activity and I worry we don't do enough. Should my kids play more sports, join more activities, participate in more camps? Will that benefit them in the long run and is it worth sacrificing our family time and my sanity? These are serious questions I ask myself. Thankfully that phase doesn't last more than a minute.

Three kids, three shovels, and a pile of dirt. The perfect storm of fun and messiness!

Because today we have a lazy saturday stretching before us, begging us to toss the football around a little longer. Swing a little higher. Dig a little deeper in the mounds of black dirt behind the almost finished house next door. Linger a little longer while searching for that well-camoflauged green frog hopping around the back yard. Soak up the sunshine of this glorious day that is just perfect for doing a whole lot of nothing. A summer Saturday at its very finest.

What did I say about two peas in a pod?

This is not posed. I found them playing like this. Silly kiddos.

these two

Two peas in a pod. Go together like peanut butter and jelly. Or garbanzo beans and tomatoes. His Abbott to her Costello. However you want to say it, these two are buddies. Now that Elliot has embraced the fact that Audrey wants him to be her baby and now that Audrey has come to terms with the fact that Elliot has opinions, they have worked out a beautiful relationship. She helps as much as he'll possibly allow and he lets her know when enough is enough. She usually listens. If she doesn't one of them usually ends up crying. It happens.

They play dolls together and dress up together and build marble mazes and play playdough and make up silly jokes and tickle each other and get in trouble together. With their imaginations in full sprint at all times, they share many imaginary adventures every day. They take boat trips to Chicago and bus rides to Bethlehem, act out the Frog and Toad musical and play the parts in the Amazing Grace Race. I love to hear what they'll come up with next, but it is also fun to imagine the real adventures they'll embark upon together and individually in the not so distant future. These imaginative, beautiful peas in a pod. 

football

Oh, the love/hate relationship with football. I love to watch it. It is exciting and athletic and graceful and raw. If we're around on a sunday afternoon, we'll definitely watch the Vikings. We stay up late for the Superbowl. The kids have Vikings shirts and we are going to a preseason game with a church group.That's the love.

The hate comes in when my oldest son says he wants to play it and I picture him getting mauled by large men-children raised by frenzied football fathers intent on passing their no holds bar mentality onto their 7 year old sons. Dramatic, right? I know. But in my defense, I walked past football practices on the way to Isaac's soccer games last year and saw the stereotypical coach in the kids' grill shouting at him to hit harder. I'm just saying I would drop that coach like nothing. Or get hurt trying. Because I'm a mama bear through and through and it hurts my stomach to imagine paying money for my kid to get creamed.

I can't protect him from everything. To try is the very essence of futility. Experiencing pain, disappointment, hardship is an essential piece of growing up and becoming who we are to be. We can see what we are made of and who stands firmly next to us when things get tough. I get that. I can't and don't want to protect him from everything. (Well, I do want to, but I know I can't and even if I could it would be bad, so I don't want to even though I do. If that makes sense.)

But I really don't want to watch him get hit. That's why I hate football. Even if I love it. If that makes sense.

Here's Isaac at flag football camp. He loved it with a big ol' capital L. He's already signed up for soccer this fall so we'll see what happens next year when football season rolls around again.

getting ready to toss it to his buddy, Owen

Look at that extension and concentration-I think he missed it, but it's a cool picture

 

Isaac and his friends

A boy and his books

We are a book reading family from way back in the day. Our living room, kids' rooms, and closets are filled to the brim with books we've read, books we read over and over again, and books we'll read one day. Elliot has heard me read stories from the time his little ears could hear as his sister and brother squooshed his little in utero self while they piled on my lap to read book after book after book. A trip to the library is a much-anticipated event, even though we go more than once a week. Yep, we read here.

It's a free vacation to lands far away and new friends with people and animals we haven't had the chance to meet yet. It's life lessons and silly stories and ridiculous poems and sports stats. What better way to spend a frigid winter's day than snuggled under a blanket with a stack of good books? And what better way to spend a warming spring day than under the shade of a newly leaved tree with a book about birds and spiders and worms? Yep, we read here.

Here are a few quotes from Elliot about his love affair with books.

(As he's hugging his Frog and Toad chapter book before bed) "Goodnight chapter book. I love you."

(as we read Bilby Moon about a bilby who is searching for the moon as it goes from full to quarter to sliver) "That is definitely fiction because animals can't talk and moons can't smile."

(as he's searching the shelves for a story to read before reading hour) "I can't decide. I like too many books."

First there was Pele. Now there's Audrey

Audrey participated in a 4-day soccer camp last week. She had a blast. She jumped right into their warm-up games, chased that ball around like every 5-year-old should, and had a blast. It was so fun to watch her motor her long, lean legs across the field. It was even more fun to watch her at goalie. She stood in front of the miniature goal, moved it around a bit, stared off into space for a while, watched the grass grow, and looked generally uninterested. But then, as the stampede of 4, 5, and 6-year-olds laboriously brought the ball down the field toward her goal, she came to life. She got into position, kicked, grabbed at, and slid on her knees to keep that ball from getting past her. Of course a few got past, but she was in it all the way. She had lots of fun, learned a lot, and tried her hardest, our three family sports goals.

She's "it" for cow tag

guarding her goal

Here's the slide. I was so proud of her tenacity.

a high five for coach Jake

One last "1, 2, 3, SOCCER!!"

Memories

It is no secret that I love my grandparents. Our relationship has evolved in many ways throughout the years, but they are and will always remain two of my favoritest people on the planet. Many of my favorite memories involve grandma and grandpa Fischer. I remember using grandma's weird rubber band exercise contraptions attached to the hall closet upstairs. I remember sliding down their shag-carpeted stairs. I remember loooong road trips and card games. I remember making quilting crafts with grandma and learning to paint with grandpa. I remember crying when my mom and grandma dropped me off in Kalamazoo. They are two of the few people that have been a part of my entire life and it has meant the world to me.

For those reasons and many more, watching my kids make their own wonderful memories with my grandparents is an absolute joy. We spent a long weekend with them in SD and a great time was had by all. We'll forget that last night's sleeping debacle and focus on the positives, of which there are many. Fishing and cooking and flower arranging and piano playing and 4 generation Scrabble and book reading and hugging and tickling and chasing and kite painting and just being together with nowhere to go and nothing to do except enjoy each other's company. I can't say we did anything exciting, but that left plenty of time for just being and it often seems that's where we make our sweetest memories.

picnic time at the beautiful table Audrey prepared

the fine art of cherry pit spitting

all smiles for chinese checkers

paddle boat rides complete with "fish puke"

bedtime stories read by grandma who even read two chapters

bonding over fishing poles

fishing off the dock-lots of weeds, no fish

Grandma's fancy piano was a huge hit

Five anglers, zero fish, lots of fun

they both hope to try again soon

grandma b and 3 great-great grandkids

goodnight snuggles and huge smiles

I wonder what grandpa and grandma memories Isaac, Audrey, and Elliot will carry with them and look back on all those years later. Whatever they are, I know the feeling they'll conjure: love.