july, part 2

It really was a busy month. And right in the middle of it, on a Friday evening, Jameson reminded me of Founders’ Day, a local reenactment event. I’d told the kids we would try hard to get there, since we’d been reading about the French and Indian War over the summer, and this would help bring it to life. Ryan said, “You should go.” And so, in spite of all of the grown up things that needed my attention at home, the kids and I packed water bottles and granola bars and drove all the way to the St. Lawrence River. “That’s it?”, they said when we arrived. After driving to Maine the previous week, they were thankful!

And I was thankful we went. It was a truly lovely, peaceful, quiet, interesting, I-love-to-be-with-my-kids kinda day.

*****

Long days that stretch into the night mean little time with Ryan in this season. We were so excited when one Sunday afternoon, he said, “Let’s pack a lunch and all go to a beach!” The kids talked about swimming with Daddy for days and days afterward. He is the star around here, you know. I’m so thankful for this guy!

july, part 1

It’s the last day of July. Sand through fingers, vapors in the wind, all of that — it’s true. It just disappears. No matter how deeply you savor, how much of its pain and beauty you try to memorize, how thankful you purpose to be, these moments just fly.

July, especially. My, did it fly.

So now I’m a solid month of photos and happenings behind on this blog, my little record of family life. It’s Thursday afternoon, and after four days of a blessedly quiet week, my soul (and my house, for that matter) are starting to catch up. I can sit and do photos, at last.

*****

The Fourth of July. Reading and discussing the Constitution, the Declaration, the heroism of men who choose courage and principle that would benefit us. Not for their own sake, but for us, they signed their names on that Declaration, as good as a death sentence. Courage: Choosing the right thing in the face of fear. Not everything they did was perfectly right, I know, but acting out of selfless principle and with courage, as men ought to do? That is pretty right. What a good heritage. Dressing in red, white, and blue. Heading to a local parade, joined by most of my clan. Spending a lazy afternoon on the side porch together, and ending things with pound cake topped with berries and loosely whipped cream. Perfect.

And then, a few days later, there was a trip to Maine. The kids, my generous sister, and me. It was absolutely wonderful.

There was good food, which the kids keep talking about. There was the pool, from about 7:30am till dinnertime and maybe even after. There was whiffle ball and golf, water balloons and bubbles. Dress up! Excursions to the rocky shore. A morning at a quiet beach inhabited by hundreds of hermit crabs. Rooftop views. Ice cream cones. Babies napping long, children playing hard, grown ups soaking in sun. Cousins we seldom see, aunts and uncles we love. Lots of tears the evening before our departure, because this was the time of their lives. Special memories. This little family went home feeling very loved by Papa and Meme.

evening with my baby

My little Goldilocks.

Only weeks away from a first birthday.

When did a whole year happen?

We sit here, couch corner, lamp on, blanket-wrapped. Our evening routine.

Usually you fall asleep nursing. But not tonight.

You rest your head on my chest. I rub your tummy as you quiet, sink into my arms, succumb to sleep.

Sweet, sweet babe of mine.

fourth babies need new things, too.

July 3rd. 10pm. So much on my mind.

Throwing a load of boy’s laundry into the washer, making sure the appropriate reds and blues will make their way through in time for an Independence Day wearing. A toddler girl dress hangs ready in the closet, a burst of red, white, and blue pinwheel-ish design. That leaves…baby. Oh dear. Apparently primary colors weren’t on my radar when purchasing Beatrice’s infant wardrobe, and so Fiona has none.

So much in my mind + that sweet face + no redwhiteandblue =

Unfortunately, that equation also means sewing without a model. Here’s hoping it fits!

cheater posts: photo dump

Not many words, though plenty of them are swirling around this pollen-fogged head of mine. While four children lounge on a couch, watching Little Bear on an overcast summer morning, I will post photos.

Lots of growing. Babies make you stop and say, “Oh my!” Seven-year-old-boys who are almost eight don’t scream for attention in the same way. They slip quickly and steadily toward manhood and suddenly my heart is in my throat and I want to yell, “Stop!” They don’t stop. If they did, mothers would squander (we’re human beings, prone to a bit of lazy and selfish, after all.) They don’t stop, and so I must live purposefully. Give, sow, love. Every day.

babies discovering windows: top 5 favorite things to watch

my glamorous life, captured by william

slowly becoming the full, crazy patch of flowers I’ve been dreaming of

she hit the mother lode

simple pleasures

just mama and babe, on an evening errand

this boy knows when he’s tired

I promise, I do have beds for my children

playground + ice cream date outing with mama. sometimes you just gotta eat a huge ice cream cone for lunch and call it a day.

bound by love

“Christian childrearing is a pastoral pursuit, not an organizational challenge,” writes Rachel Jankovic. And I am stopped in my tracks.

Pastor them. Shepherd them.

Amy Carmichael wrote, “The salvation of a single child—who can measure what that may mean not only here but There? You can’t do everything. ‘After it, follow it, follow the Gleam.’ For us the Gleam is the salvation of children, and it involves the prosaic towel. ‘He took a towel.’ So we won’t mind if our feet are bound, for it is Love that binds them.* His were bound on the cross.”

*Tamil proverb: ‘Children bind the mother’s feet.’

Take a towel. Serve them.

Hi, I'm Danica.

Post Category → fiona