The Art of the Nap.

I remember sometime in graduate school reading Joseph Epstein’s essay, “The Art of the Nap.” I don’t remember much about it except that it seemed to offer an argument about the benefits of napping (who could argue with that) and then went into detail how best to nap. If I remember correctly the characterization of a perfect nap included sleeping on a couch or comfortable chair, never in a bed, taking off of one’s shoes, but not clothes, and never longer than twenty minutes. Since becoming a mother I have found another benefit to nap-taking.

A moment of peace.

Jane, the youngest of my children and therefore the one most likely to nap, has given up the practice of napping long ago. It seemed that for so many years I cleared a schedule for a baby to nap that I can’t, however impractical it is, give up those precious hours. So we are home, every afternoon for what I stubbornly continue to call “naptime,” even though we haven’t had consistent naps for years. Lily and Canyon roll their eyes in the summertime when we are grounded from all other social activities each afternoon for our ‘quiet time.’ We read or play quietly. Even outside play is sanctioned. But, there are no errands, no exhausting trips to the pool, park or library—we reserve those for morning or late afternoon. And even though I never, ever take a nap of my own, I just revel in a quiet time that is only slightly quieter than the rest of my day.

But occasionally on a very rare day, I find myself alone, in the afternoon, with Jane. And on an even rarer occasion of these days—she takes a nap.

And it is, once again, quiet.

Over the River and through the Woods.

A couple of weeks ago I did this certifiably crazy thing. I decided, in the middle of a stormy week, on a Tuesday that I was going to drive to Utah, on a Wednesday, with the little girls. I heard that Will and Eliza had RSV and their mom wasn’t feeling that great herself. Holding a baby—or two, or three was all I needed for an excuse to see my family. Luckily, Dustin was super supportive and even, dare I say, a little jealous. I left early in the morning. Dustin, Canyon and Lily were left to brave the next 10 days on their own.

Can I just say that driving to Utah in the winter is a lot like labor. Here are the similarities.

Equally as long: 14 hours.

White knuckle, tense, holding my breath: driving over the chain-required Sierra’s in the middle of a storm.

Long, very tiring middle section: the drive across Nevada. Luckily I had plenty of caffeine.

A moment of hope as I think I see the light at the end of the tunnel: finally getting to Highway 30.

Transition: Deer, fog, darkness and utter despair. Thankfully the girls slept through transition. Dustin had to coach me through on the phone.

The end: Finally arriving to Sadie and Christian’s house ready for a hot shower, oh wait, they didn’t have any hot water! Aargh!

Once we were there, though, we had an amazing time. We got to play with the twins everyday. Jane and Alice were a ton of help as Jane liked Will—or as she called him, the blue baby—and Alice was happy to play with Eliza.

{Here's Will & Eliza the first day, I was so proud to get them both to sleep}

The bonus was that there was also Baby Soren (it was like triplets) and of course, CJ. Angie & Hyrum were also a bonus and Angie and Jane found that they are truly “kindred spirits.”

{Soren had the BEST smile. It was wider than his face!}

It was nice to be helpful (hopefully) and get a lot of time with family. Dustin and the kids were doing great on their own. I think they ate out a lot and my friend, Trish, even brought them dinner one night. They loved being home without the noise of the ‘little girls.’ As my few days turned into more—while we waited out many storms—I finally decided to go the long way and stay with Daisy in St. George.

{Jane loved not being the 'littlest' and bossed those babies around all day.}

Alice was delighted with the desert and equally delighted to play with her cousin Kate all day long. Jane worked through a fever and cough and we got to witness Daisy’s endurance as she trained much of the day for her upcoming Ironman triathlon.

We finally drove home through Las Vegas, the Mojave Desert, Bakersfield and across the central valley. It was beautiful. Green. The orchards were either laden and overloaded with oranges, picked clean, or in the case of the almond trees full of pink and white blossoms. On either side of the freeway, for three hundred miles it was a carpet of green patterned fields with shimmering white rows of soft blossoms. The falling blossoms were like snow on the ground—except it was sunny and warmish.

We were oh. so. happy. to pull into the driveway and see our yard, our swings, the barn, the orange tree, and our people. We had such a great adventure. Next time we’ll take the rest of the family.

Lily's Quilt.

I’ve had a request from family members to post pictures of Lily’s Christmas present. As we all know, Lily is a voracious reader and so I decided for Christmas that I would make her a reading quilt with blocks from some of her favorite books. Here’s what made the list:

Harry Potter
The Witch of Blackbird Pond
The Boxcar Children
The Fablehaven series
Percy Jackson and the Olympians
The Wizard of Oz
The Graveyard Book
The Mysterious Benedict Society
The Sisters Grimm
and
The Chronicles of Narnia

It was really fun making the quilt because I got a chance to be creative and while I’m no artist—it was fun to figure out which scenes represented each book. As for the appliqué itself, I mostly copied images from the books or from images online. There was no freehand in this. Lily was delighted with the quilt which made it all the more fun and it was an absolute surprise which wasn’t easy as the little girls saw what I was working on each day and had to be redirected as Lily walked in the door.

Its purpose has been filled as I often see Lily wrapped up in it as she’s reading her books.

Anyway, what do you think?

Here are some of the blocks up close.




This one is probably my favorite, because I was thinking that it'd just have to be a boxy, boring boxcar. And then I saw this silhouette in the book and thought I'd try it. It worked!


This fairy one was the first one I did and it gave me hope that I might actually be able to pull this off.



The back and binding.

Jane Elizabeth: January 26, 2007

Jane turned three a couple of weeks ago. When she was born, Alice was only 18 months old and, needless to say, the first year or so felt like a blur. When Jane was born we were 99% sure that her name was going to be Beth. Then, in the hospital—as we looked at her, I mentioned Jane—and as Lily said, “it just felt right.” Canyon had the honor of giving Jane her middle name, Elizabeth, named after—who else—Elizabeth Swan from “Pirates of the Caribbean.” It doesn’t feel like three years since she was born, but as she is already acting like a 5-year-old—I guess it’s appropriate.

Here’s what we love about Jane:

She loves to snuggle.

She has perfect hair with just the right amount of curl.

She talks like she’s ten.

She gets whatever she wants and can be a real stinker (I guess that’s what happens when you’re the youngest).

She wants to do everything herself.

She loves her sisters and brother.

She’s what we like to call, independent. Others might call it stubborn.

She’ll eat anything.

All of her baby dolls are named Janie (after her of course).

She knows exactly how and when to turn on the charm to avoid some serious discipline.

And we can’t imagine life without her.

Happy Birthday Jane!

Ode to the Pacific Northwest.

How do you do it.
Rain, day in and day out.
It is dark.
It is cold.
Sun? Not even in our vocabulary any more.

What we do to keep our Sanity.

I did find this today. At least I also had something to do. Enjoy.

Winter.

It’s been warmish of late, possibly all of the rain storms that we’ve been getting. We took advantage of the warmer weather and went for a walk in the vineyard before dinner the other day. We saw 5 deer, 2 emus, an undetermined number of horses, an abandoned foxhole, poppies starting to bloom, the white castle house, and empty wine tasting lawns. Jane was only scared two times and warned us about the ‘muddles’ extensively.

Just incase you weren’t sure, a muddle is a puddle of mud.

Little House by the Vineyard.

Our slaves Lily & Jane drying and putting away dishes.

So I guess that Ma Ingalls knows how to live without. There were times in her illustrious career as a pioneer mom where she lived on brown bread alone. And no white sugar, not even for company. However, Ma’s got nothing on me. I am a living, breathing pioneer. It all started this summer when the microwave broke. Who needs a microwave anyway? We’ve been living microwave free for six months now and I haven’t missed it for even a second (actually it’s really the only way to melt butter to room temperature without actually leaving the butter out in room temperature). Ok, maybe for a second. But, let’s be honest, one can live without a microwave. Then one of the faucets on my kitchen sink went out. No biggie, you only need one faucet on a kitchen sink. After all, Ma didn’t even have a kitchen sink, let alone a faucet attached to one. Then the TV went out. Don’t panic, we went out and bought a new one the next day—even Ma would agree to that. Now, most recently we have lost our dishwasher. Ok, now I’m starting to notice.

So, I’m washing dishes by hand. You heard it, by hand. It’s been a great experience for the kids and the dishwasher makes a superb drying rack. Really, I could get used to this.

So where is my contractor husband through all of this? He’s at work, fixing other people’s microwaves/sinks/dishwashers. Someone’s got to make a living.

After I finish washing all the dishes from dinner last night, I’m going to go and watch TV.

Signing off,
Ma

My new dishwashing apron. Much cheaper than a new dishwasher.

P.S. I don't want to hear other people's sob stories about how they lived for years without a dishwasher (Brooke, Isaac), just be impressed. Ok? And feel sorry for me, a little.