Lunchtime Talk - Our Combined Dream House

Stairs to go up AND a slide to get back down

A trampoline room with the floor and walls made out of trampolines and a ceiling so tall you could never hit your head

Secret passages with slides and tunnels. Gwyn: You twist a doorknob just sticking right out of the wall (It would lead to Gwyn's imagination land).

Our very own warm swimming pool so we could go swimming every, single day.

A big fireplace in my bedroom (Liam: "Whoa, fancy. You would need to live in a mansion for that."

Ellie: My dream house would have a giraffe.

Avocado trees and raspberry, blackberry, blueberry bushes, and a strawberry patch, and a fruit orchard, and a vegetable patch in our backyard ... Ellie: but NO alligators licking their chops!

Liam: There is a basket filled with very cozy blankets that's attached to a string and you can pull yourself up with the rope to get yourself in your cozy basket upstairs.

A humongous Flopsy as big as our trampoline that you can jump from leaf to leaf.

Gwyn: I want a room where the whole floor is a cozy bed, filled with fluffy pillows and soft blankets.

Ellie: We need giant trees inside our house that you can climb on and jump off of but there's so many
cozy pillows so you can never hit your head.

A refrigerator loaded with chocolate milk

A doorbell that plays Zelda music

Me: What if we each had our very own bathtub? Liam: Nah. Ellie: YES!

Me: Do you guys have any more ideas? Liam: All in good time, mom. All in good time. 

Fighting For It - What that looked like today

5:15am - Hugging Liam instead of banishing him back into bed. No snarling mama bear in sight.
Deep breaths and strings of prayers when nothing was right in Ellie's world (for seven hours)
Feeling screamed at all morning and afternoon - but not joining in the screaming (go me!)
Reading scriptures with the littles at breakfast (crying over Abinidi's courage).
Keeping all of our dishes happy and intact - when all I wanted to do was hurl them at the wall after seven hours of constant melt downs.
Thinking of the vacuum lines on my grandparent's carpet while vacuuming my own.
Holding Liam in my arms when all I wanted to do is shake him and feed him triple helpings of gratitude and optimism, with some cheerfulness on the side.
Listening to scriptures while washing dishes.
Giving kisses and encouragement when I really want to run down the street shrieking like a maniac.
Pressing forward with school, treading through the hardest moments, and just feeling really grateful to have such a privilege.
Putting on my sports bra at 4 freaking o'clock in the afternoon because I promised myself that today was the day! Finishing my workout! (like superwoman!)
Turning up the music when the chorus of littles was banging on the porch window chanting Mom! mom! mom! mom! mom! mom! mom! mom! mom! mom! mom! mom! mom! mom! mom! mom! mom! (what did they need? to tell me that this song wasn't their favorite)
Eating most of the pumpkin chocolate cheesecake after a canceled family night with friends and not feeling one teensy crumb of regret.
Going to bed absurdly early so I can wake up for a run around the neighborhood and maybe a sip of something before the littles are awake. 

Make Your Bed

A year ago, on a whim, I was like my kids should be able to make their beds. So I pounced on my children and declared, WE are now going to learn to make our beds!! They weren't thrilled. I then proceeded to clamber all over their little twin mattresses, showing them how to straighten and tuck and spread and fluff and make everything just so. They were appalled. I think mostly because they were, like, right in the middle of living their perfectly happy messy bed lives, and suddenly I was expecting crisp clean beds every morning. Oh the tears! Oh the weeping and wailing and lamenting. Every. Single. Morning. My little four and six year old did all they could to get out of it, to conveniently forget about it, to distract me from it, and to let me know what a wretched thing it was, to make one's bed.

I think I just got tired, during the packing and planning and moving and goodbying and start overing. Sometime during our move to Alabama, I still expected beds to be made, but I just stopped caring how they did it. So they made their beds. And the interpretation was really sweet. It started as picking blankets up from the floor and piling them onto their beds. Then their blankets were wonky and rumpled, but they were definitely stretched out as straight as small six and four year old arms could stretch them. When I walked by their beds, I began to see their effort, and feel really grateful.

There was still a chorus of complaints when I'd remind them to make their beds, but after a while, so subtly that I didn't really even notice it happen, the complaining began to quiet. I would ask and they would just hop to it. And now, a year later, they simply make their beds all on their own. It's just a natural part of their day. And the blankets aren't wonky. They're tidy! And their stuffies are usually tucked underneath their covers, with their squishy heads taking up most of the pillow. And my heart bursts with gratitude.

I feel thankful that I stopped freaking out about the proper way to accomplish the task, and just let them do what they could with the abilities they had. I'm glad that I was consistent. But most of all, I'm grateful that my littles are so patient with my sudden make-your-bed whims.

Painting and parfaits on the porch

Most of the paint and parfaits ended up on the porch, but October mornings are worth it. I like starting the day outside. Our house is surrounded with twittering mocking birds. We wave to the school bus as it roars past. Most of the time we end up drawing with chalk on the driveway, rescuing worms stranded on the porch, demolishing fire ant mounds, or taking a walk up and down the street. This morning we wheeled out the dumpster to the end of the driveway, wrapped up in blankets, ate yogurt and blueberries and granola, and read about Samuel the Lamanite. Some days the simplicity and slow crawl of it all makes the days feel long and insignificant. But this morning I knew better, and felt so grateful for the opportunity we have to go slow, to live simply, and see the sweetness in small things.  

Moo

There is a large field behind our home where hay grows and butterflies flutter and cows graze. The cows are usually in the adjacent field, just past the view from our backyard, but every once in a while they're moved over to our field to graze for a few days. Those are the days they become our cows. Ellie adopted them for us. When we wake up in the morning, the first thing we do is peek out the window to see if ow towws are awake. If we see them breakfasting, then we tiptoe out onto the back porch and slowly make our way to the grass. Ellie holds up her tiny finger to her lips and motions for me to be extra quiet so we don't scare them away. Yet every time they sense our approach, one or two will bat their long beautiful eyelashes at us and turn and trot in the other direction. Sometimes we get a Moooo, but I think it's mostly the more perceptive cows telling the other cows that those two mysterious moving things are coming their way again. The rest of our cows lift their heads and then follow the others, far away from us, to greener (and less adorable) pastures. Ellie and I spend a lot of time standing by that fence. We watch butterflies. We watch the clouds sail across the sky. We slap the mosquitoes off of our arms and legs. We feel the wind and listen to crickets sing. We talk about our cows. How desperately we want them to love us (I would even be happy with indifference). But Ellie and I are too scary right now (which Ellie thinks is hilarious).     

First Fallish Morning

Friday morning I stepped outside and the driveway felt cold on my feet. The air wasn't sticky, and a breeze blew that felt almost chilly. My soul stirred. The littles joined me on the porch for french toast. We read scriptures wrapped up in blankets, and scooted our chairs into the warm sunshine. The fresh air, and cold concrete, and warm sunshine felt too irresistible to spend any amount of time indoors, so we schooled with sidewalk chalk, played simon says, watched fire ants building up their mounds, made up the alphabet for our own secret language, and read all about Buffalo Bill and the Pony Express while picnicking on the porch. It was one of those mornings that felt too good to be true. I hope all of this Octoberness is here to stay.   

Laundry Traditions

Sometimes I get a wild hair and make my minions do all the chores. I really need to be more consistent. Tonight I was all about the laundry. Liam immediately declared that his cup was totally empty and he had no more effort. He sorted clothes with droopy cheeks and little storm clouds above his blue eyes. Ellie somehow manages to become incredibly engaged with other things as soon as we begin working on a task all together. And Gwyn hopped right to work. We have two laundry traditions. Before we sort, they lie on the carpet all smooshed together and I dump all of the baskets of laundry on top of them. I'm not sure how this began but it's always been. Then they scramble out from underneath the heaps of warm clothes and commence tradition number two: trying on every item of clothing before plopping it into its proper pile. Ever. Single. Piece. Of. Clothing. I've seen socks on hands and ears. Underwear on heads. So many underwear hats. Layered pants and Sunday dresses, none of which belong to the actual minion. I put on an audio book and they bustle around, sorting, folding, fussing, and continuing the pattern until the folded clothing is tucked into drawers, or (I get distracted and) they sneak away and play so quietly and so happily I can't bear to call them back.

Bubbles on the porch

Yesterday we sat on the porch while a storm rolled in. A cool breeze cut through the heat and great grey clouds crept along the sky. We watched and blew bubbles while the rain began to patter all around. Minutes later the breeze blew the rain clouds beyond our neighborhood and bits of sunshine began to pour onto our front grass. All of it just made me really grateful for front porches, and bubbles, and rain clouds, and sunshine.

Evening Walks

One of my favorite times to be outside in Alabama is just after dinner. Everything is green and golden. The mosquitoes are hungry, but we love the smell of bug spray and are learning to outrun them. We hop and skip and gallop down the street, chasing the fading light, waving to neighbors, holding hands, giving and taking piggy back rides, getting out all of our wiggles and breathing out all of our worries. It feels good to walk in the evening light, to be together without anywhere else to be. 

Mama's on the Menu

Liam, Gwyn, and Eleanor are pure goodness, and passion, and light, which is why I can't stop laughing at the dark and disturbing turn this morning has taken.

I'm in the bathroom, when I hear an angry mob chanting from the other side of the house, "Let's destroy the Mama! Let's destroy the Mama!" So, naturally I lock the door and begin praying for my life. The chanting grows louder and louder until finally it's just outside the door, and then suddenly it's reduced to a single, sweet voice inquiring, "Mama? Where are you?"

"There's nobody here!" I exclaim. And then the mob erupts into maniacal laughter. Never a good sign. I barricade the door. "Mom! We're going to eat you!" I try to deter them. "Go get some applesauce! It's tastier." Then Eleanor, the newest and most fragile member of the mob begins to cry for me. Obviously I have to open the door and face my impending doom. The baby is crying! So I swing open the door, scoop her up and make a run for it. Liam and Gwyn are wrapped up in every blanket in the house, their tiny heads sticking out of layers of fleece and down. Their little faces are twice into menacing expressions, but they look so snuggly that instead of running for my life, I'm suddenly overcome with the urge to take a nap.

After being tackled to the ground and smothered with kisses (their single worst nightmare), the mob retreats back into the depths to regroup. Liam emerges, and I can practically see the lightbulb above his head. "Mom, each halloween creature will get to eat a different part of your body. Zombies will get to eat your brains, Vampires will get to drink your blood, and Werewolves will get the meat."
"Liam that is disturbingly creative." To which Liam runs away giggling, "I know right!?"

Fast forward fifteen minutes. I'm quietly sitting at the kitchen table, eating granola and bananas, when  two creatures emerge from the hallway, and begin slowly and eerily closing the distance between us. They look hungry, and up to no good. Before I've taken two more bites, they're upon me, pretending to rip me to shreds in slow motion, savoring my appendages, coming back for more. I offer them my granola. No go. Then Gwyn shouts, "Let's put some toppings on her!"

The Flu

A week after the Christmas Sugar Rampage of 2017 the flu came for a visit. I was up at 4:45 to study and exercise. My head hurt. My arms and legs felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. I chalked t up to the fact that no human being should be up that early and hopped in the shower hoping to wash the pounding in my head and aching in my muscles away. It was a few moments after drying off, all wrapped up and resting on the sofa that I recognized that familiar achiness that had nothing to do with lunges or pushups. My throat hurt, my stomach was in knots, and every centimeter of my body throbbed with a deep ache. Sean sent me up to bed and I slept for the next three days. I couldn't eat, or move, or remember what it felt like to be healthy. I can't ever remember feeling that sick before. It took another week's time to regain my appetite and strength, and another week after that to feel like myself again. I was terrified that it was going to slowly and painfully make it's way through our family, but Liam was the only one who manifested any symptoms, and mercifully they only lasted twenty four hours. 

We spent a good two weeks in our pajamas, taking long baths, watching all of the cartoons, and eating pancakes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I made a ginormous batch, put them on the table, and whenever a little human approached me demanding food, I just pointed in their general direction. I didn't even have to lift my head! The littles were such patient little troopers and took great care of one another. But I think it'll be a little while before were in the mood for pancakes again. 

Cozy Sniffly January Days

Just a few Sunday thoughts -

After WEEKS and WEEKS of picking through clean laundry baskets for something to wear, we dived in head first this weekend, and now every single piece of clothing is folded and tucked into our drawers. And none of us can never get dressed again because it needs to stay that way FOREVER!

Gwyn wants to know how many sleeps until preschool, until she get's to see Brady, until we can play with the Fraziers. In her prayer the other night she said, ... and please bless me to marry Brady, and for our marriage to have so much love...

If it's going to be so frigid cold, then I want the our tiny corner of the world to be blanketed in white snow. Lining up boots, stuffing babies into coats, and missing hats and mittens can feel really hard and keeps us running late most of the time, but there is nothing like the peace and stillness and magic of snow swirling around and piling up and coating every branch and twig in wintery frosting. I love it so much.

Throughout the day there are a lot of big feelings, melt downs, do overs, impatience, plenty of exhaustion, rushed mornings and grumpy afternoons. But the most potent feeling in our home this month has been love. Gwyn and Liam are besties most of the time. When Gwyn is struggling, Liam dashes to grab her monkey blanket and Lamby. When Liam has reached his limit and the tears begin to flow, Eleanor is instantly by his side, stroking his arm, bringing him stuffies, tilting her head and looking at him with more concern than I ever thought any two year old capable. I have never felt more love or compassion or understanding or camaraderie with Sean that I do right now. We are working through hard things, rejoicing in great blessings, and are able to come together at the end of every day just feeling grateful that we've found each other. When Sean comes home there are six little legs sprinting full speed ahead ready to jump into his arms. Saturday morning cartoons keep them piled up together on the floor, taking turns being each other's pillows. Eleanor is always making all of us laugh, and the inside jokes have begun. There is so much love in this home, and it softens my heart, shapes my perspective, and fills me with gratitude.

We are mostly in our pajamas, talking about Mario and Luigi, counting sleeps until Preschool, reading about Alabama, eating clementines, crying about vegetables, reading the BFG at breakfast and before bed, practicing our secret family handshake, waking up early, trying to keep warm with all of this snow, filling days with library trips, grocery swaps, yoga, and playdates, and going to bed early.

January has felt like a time to rest, to go slow, to breath deep, and to find our footing for the year to come. I like slow, gentle beginning. It's felt like a time to reevaluate our family culture, what's working, and what's keeping us from being who we want to be. I'm so so good at making lists and setting goals, but reshaping our days to create more holy habits, more peace, more togetherness takes a little more time.

A few of the little changes we've made have been centered around our routines. I've started to pack lunches/snacks and lay out clothing the night before so that in the morning I have time to sit with the littles around the table and read scriptures to them while they eat breakfast. We are now keeping the television off during the week so Gwyn and I can soak up all of quiet time together before Ellie wakes from her nap and the hustle of homework and dinner prep and the rest of the demands of the day swallow us up. After school we have a snack while I read to them (right now we're in the thick of the BFG - before that was Fantastic Mr. Fox and George's Marvelous Medicine) and then once the snack is cleaned up with get homework done and over with. After pajamas and toothbrushing and bedtime books, we've started piling on the sofa, turning off the lights and singing a primary song or lullaby or Christmas carol together. Then I send the biggies up to my bed while I put Ellie to bed. We snuggle and talk together for a few minutes, and then it's nightly affirmations and off to bed ... and then they come out four thousand times before actually falling asleep :) I've been trying to be in bed by 9 o'clock at the latest so that I can be up by 4:30 to read scriptures, do morning meditation, and go for a run. Monday nights for family night we're wanting to focus more on family history, family goals, and having fun together. That has been the rhythm of our days in January and it feels really good.

Biker Babes and Foggy Mornings

The Frazier's, the beautiful Fraizers, the beautiful heaven sent incredible Frazier's resurrected our bikes and it's completely changed my life. When I hopped on for the first time after getting them all spiffed up I felt like I was ten years old again, and all day every day I kept thinking about when the next time would be that I could hop on and take her for a spin.

Fast forward like two weeks, and Liam is suddenly, magically, inexplicably able to ride on two wheels, Gwyn is besotted with her balance bike (bequeathed to us by the beautiful Frazier's), and Sandy sends us a bike trailer. Suddenly, we're all on wheels and looking for any reason to ride the neighborhood, or explore trails, or loop around the river. Every week we meet with friends at the church parking lot for after school snacks and riding. Our little gathering has grown into quite the biker gang, and the mamas get to sit in the shade, fill up on girl talk, and maybe even have a hula hoop competition or two.

The girls have become accostomed to dropping Liam off at school and climbing into the bike trailer to go for a long ride. I'll usually pack some snacks and we'll finish off the morning at the playground where they can swing and slide and I can stretch and catch my breath. It doesn't matter how many tears the've shed or tantrums they've thrown, there seems to be nothing that a long bike ride can't cure of the Braniff girls.

It's such a humbling feeling to love something so much that I had absolutely no hand in bringing about. Every bike ride is possible because of thoughtful, loving, generous people, without whom family bike rides would be a dream beyond my reach. I'm just feeling so grateful for so much generosity, for the strength in my legs, for my adventurous girls and bike loving boy, for early morning light, and little droplets of dew clinging to spiderwebs, for granola on the go, changing leaves, and that this is my LIFE!

This Week

The weather has turned this week. I know, I'm talking about the weather?! But as a lover of fresh air, and walks in the woods, and bike rides by the river, and the sole keeper of the coats and hats and scarves of three little wild things, it feels like a very big deal. Last week we could run in our bare feet to take out the garbage or check the mail. This week we can't. I mean, we could, but it's freaking freezing out there! And the wind! Everything about this sudden shift has me remembering my love affair with October, but it does make getting out the door on time a little trickier, and running at 5:30 a little chillier, and spontaneous bike rides or mad dashes across the green to the playground a little less appealing.

To ease my aching heart from Summer's sudden departure, we made our family fall and winter live list last night, and the magic of this season is already beginning to make it's way into our home. I had no idea that Gwyn wanted to go sledding, or that Liam wanted to make snow angels. I'm so excited to make Christmas cookies and jump in leaves, sing carols, sip cider, toast pumpkin seeds, hang paper snowflakes, and make big pots of soup.

We've heard so many new words from Eleanor this week, like bum, apples (appoos), tortilla (teeah), please (pees). If there is a baby or a ball within a twenty mile radius, she will find it. If Julie or Leah are in the room, she is perched on their laps, smiling and flirting and snuggling in. This week she has been a full fledged mimic, a cuddle bug, a chips and salsa fiend, attached to my hip, on Sean's lap at every meal, a chatterbox, and the best helper at emptying the dishwasher and cleaning up spills.

Gwyn has wanted nothing more than to be in nothing but her underwear. She's finally interested in the alphabet and feels so much satisfaction when she is able to recognize letters and sounds, and wants to do it all herself. She flies on her balance bike, and I love seeing her wispy golden hair streaking behind her as she propels herself forward to keep up with the boys. Lately, Gwyn is wanting to be the best at everything, have the most of everything, and feels so much distress if she feels like she's been wronged or shorted, be it gold fish crackers, or number of hugs, or time with a toy. She also has the most grateful heart, and is so incredible at taking care of Ellie and keeping her safe. She is so determined to wear what she wants, and it's usually every opposing pattern in her closet all at the same time. If we had feather boas, something silky, or anything with rhinestones, she'd wear that too.

Liam is enthralled with Halloween and all of the monsters and ghouls of the season. If feels loved if we draw him pictures and then cut them out. He currently has a scotch tape mummy (with goggly eyes), Frankenstein, a zombie, and a "wild man" all cut out and hanging on his walls. He wants us to read and reread his book about dragons and mythical creatures he got at the book fair, or Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (we just got to the part where Harry is practicing his patronous charm with Professor Lupin). He's so crazy bright, but if something feels hard or he knows he can't do it perfectly right away then he shuts down. Things that take time and effort are often mingled with a lot of melt downs, tears, and feelings of self doubt. So reading is hard, spelling is hard, and Sean and I are always trying to find ways to connect with him and help these mountains he's climbing to feel easier ... or at least help him feel more at home in the mountains.  

Bicycle Breakthrough

I took off Liam's training wheels about a month ago. He wasn't happy. There feels like such a fine line between honoring your little one's needs and fears, and pushing them just a little beyond their comfort level because you know they're ready to grow. Growing is hard. Trying new things can be scary, especially when those new things could involve scrapes and bruises. Fear can feel like a big wall sometimes, and for Liam it's difficult to try something new if he knows he won't be able to do it perfectly right away. He declined. I persisted. On a good day I could get him on his bike a few stretches of sidewalk at a time. Putting my hands under his arms so he could steer, I'd walk beside him as he wobbled forward, pretty miserable the whole time. "Don't you dare let go!" I double pinky promised I wouldn't. He doesn't want to fall. He doesn't want to hurt. It's that how it is for all of us? There are so many experiences I turn away from because I don't want to get fail, to fall down, to get hurt. How do you encourage someone to work hard and risk falling when the fruit of your labor doesn't come instantly? When day after day you can't see progress or feel success?

This morning I was reminded that the drive to work hard and take risks has to come from within. Liam wobbled forward and I felt pretty quickly that he could ride with the guidance of one of my hands instead of two. Which. Is. HUGE! "I don't feel safe without you holding me with both of your hands, Mama." I told him how he's able to balance enough now that he does't need two of my hands. That the only way he'll learn how to find his balance is if I let go a little, and that I would never ever take my hand away if it wasn't safe. We talked about falling, and every time he landed on the grass I would go crazy about how awesome of a fall it was. With one hand guiding him, he felt a little burst of confidence. I could see it in the crooked smile he was trying to hide.

On the next stretch of sidewalk I let go just before we got to the grass. And he kept going. Eventually he began to fall and caught himself with his right foot before wheeling around to look at me triumphantly! I measured "eight mama steps" from where I let him go to where he rode. And that was it. We had a way to measure progress. He felt himself getting better, and now the desire to ride, to fall, to progress was all from him. By the time we called it a morning, he'd ridden alone for 23 mama steps.