one hundred and sixty one

The rain is drumming out a peaceful rhythm on the roof of our cottage tonight. Earlier today, however, it was a perfect day for spinning, spinning, spinning, on the local tire swing.

(Their hair shows a bit of their speed, but it’s hard to get the full feel of it. They are brave girls!)

one hundred and sixty

Our new Sunday afternoon tradition, Vespers at Asbury Grove.

one hundred and fifty nine

Want to get better at something? Make mistakes! Change course in the middle, backtrack and move forward in a new direction. Change your plan and make something better!

Not every project you start has to be perfect. Not every pattern needs to be followed from step one to ten. Many times, deviating from the course or fixing a mistake will lend you a deeper understanding of your job or it will show you a solution you hadn’t yet thought of!

Catherine has been knitting a large scale project that she decided on herself. A couple days, and a few inches into it, she had second thoughts. No problem, let’s rip it out and start again! No need to be discouraged or to insist on finishing what you start.

Test, try, make mistakes, fail, try, succeed.

(Rinse and Repeat!)

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Design win: Washing machines at the height of an average four year old. They are anxious to help and love when they can do it alone!

one hundred and fifty seven

Our (former) town raised and spent thousands on new playground equipment a few years back. Seems that planting more dogwoods (this one is within the playground fence) might have cost less and done the job just as well!

one hundred and fifty six

Over the past year we have asked an awful lot of our girls. We put our house on the market, packed up half our house into storage, promised we’d move in with their grandparents and expected the house to stay clean for unexpected showings.

They’ve hung in there.

Over the past three months we’ve asked all of the above, plus so much more. We’ve spent endless hours packing and cleaning, put 90% of our (their) things into storage. We destroyed their old swingset, dismantled and tossed their bunk bed and freecycled a huge amount of their (our) unused things.

They’ve hung in there.

In the past three weeks we’ve moved, but not in with the grandparents. We’re living in a tiny space and they’re sleeping in the ‘bunk closet’. Their familiar routines have been sporadic at best and every day we’re working on ‘how we live now’. All of our plans have been tentative as we waited for a closing date and time. Then we waited again after it was canceled. And then again.

They’ve hung in there…and matured.

In the past three days we’ve had two closing dates. We left the park (and friends) early to make it on the first day. They hardly complained. When the appointment was canceled they paused, realizing that delaying one day would conflict with a much anticipated birthday party. First they worried, then they were sad. They wanted to continue the card and gift making, ‘just in case.’

Two girls left the house today in their “party dresses” with gifts in hand. They had already made contingency plans should they miss the party, “maybe we can stop by tomorrow.” At 12pm there was no plan. They didn’t dare hope as they told the librarians who asked about their dresses, “we might be going to a party” At 1pm we heard the closing was set for 2. We left the library, picked up Peter and by 3pm we had finished selling our house.

They were as patient and as quiet as two party dress-wearing, excited little girls could be as we signed the papers. They have weathered this process with far more maturity than I would have ever expected them to, and they were rewarded with cupcakes and treats and games at a birthday party that they did not miss.

They hung in there…and they’re amazing.

I am so blessed to have these sweet gals to spend time with, to adventure with, to commiserate with, and to grow with. They have rolled with the punches. They have been amazingly patient and they understand that when I say “I do not know if we can do [insert activity]. I can’t promise, but I will try my best…” I really do mean it. They are as big a part of this process as we are and they are thriving despite it all.

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The post office box: a treasure chest that yields new surprises each time you open it!

one hundred and fifty four

When we left the house today it was raining buckets. About half way through our stops and errands the rain stopped and the sun came out, bright as ever. I hadn’t meant to, but I had left my sunglasses back at the house.

With squinting eyes, I did what any one might do- I foraged in the back seat and came up with a pair of Catherine’s sunglasses.

I’m not sure that pink zebra is really my style, but they definitely got the job done. The backseat peanut gallery made sure to make their opinions known [see title]!

one hundred and fifty three

“What do you think? If a man owns a hundred sheep, and one of them wanders away, will he not leave the ninety-nine on the hills and go to look for the one that wandered off? And if he finds it, truly I tell you, he is happier about that one sheep than about the ninety-nine that did not wander off. In the same way your Father in heaven is not willing that any of these little ones should perish.” Matthew 18:12-14

one hundred and fifty two

It was a perfect day to go for a hike. We geared up and hit the trailhead at Mount Watatic.

Catherine, at seven, was a confident hiker. She made it to the summit and back down with ease. Esme, at four, was less enthusiastic about hoofing it the whole way up.

Both Peter and I found ourselves just a wee bit exasperated at the barrage of “my legs are tired!”, “my feet are tired”, “SHOULDERS!!”, and “can’t someone just carry me??”. Never mind the constant chorus of “I need a drink of water!” We were certain that her little feet could, indeed, make the climb without too much help, but clearly she thought otherwise.

In the end I did carry Esme for a good portion of the hike, both up and down the mountain. It was Catherine who put the whole thing into perspective for me by saying,

“She’s only four, Mama. She is probably just tired. I’m seven and I don’t want anyone to carry me.”

That’s right, Catherine. She is only four. So I gave her a ride and enjoyed the singing from over my shoulder. She won’t want me to carry her forever.

[More photos from our hike can be found here!]