We heart Colorado

Everything we love is here: mountains, sunshine, clear blue skies, dry air, good Diet Coke, parks, hiking and running and trails and--probably most importantly--lots of people who are also raising families and therefore do not hate us simply because we have children. (I realize given the subject of my most recent post, that might seem strange...) So here are some pictures of a few of our favorite things: Park + sand - ocean= better than the beach:

My souvenir from hiking the Incline,

an old cog railroad track that goes 2000 feet up a mountain in 3/4 of a mile. I swear you can see to Kansas at the top. So pretty that it was worth even the torn ligaments I sustained in a fall on the way down.

Some more pictures from the boys' dream days in Boulder working the tractors for Grandpa...does your Grandpa work in the woods???

I really hope we stay here. Being back near the Rocky Mountains makes me realize I never want to live anywhere else but somewhere near them. I have enjoyed, for various reasons, all of the different places we have lived. But there is no place like home, said Dorothy wisely, and it is a simple, true truth to which I wholeheartedly subscribe.

Venting

I am hoping that my blog will make me feel better. I didn't sleep very well last night. And it is so stupid. But its not, too. I might as well do a quick update as well while I am on here, since THAT doesn't happen very often...we are all settled in in Colorado Springs and I really really love it here. We have a great neighborhood and the sun shines all the time and there is a Target two blocks away! Adam loves his job and we love even the idea of knowing we can drive back to Utah and family in a day if we want to. Adam's dad was out here doing a job in Boulder for a few weekends so we went up there to watch the helicopters and play in the mountains.

What a gorgeous sliver of the Rocky Mountains. My kids were in heaven. We even got to sleep in the "bus house" and Tate yammers on non-stop about helicopters dropping hay on the mountain. Eli is all registered for kindergarten; I am a little apprehensive about it because I know he will probably struggle... which brings us to my need for decompression. I have made no secret of the fact that Eli is a difficult child. Nothing with him is ever easy or smooth. He has an impeccable propensity for trouble making and has a very very hard time following even simple rules. HOWEVER. He is sweet and friendly and charismatic and fun and is so excited about playing with all of the kids in our neighborhood. Having just turned 5 and learning how to ride on two wheels, I feel confident about letting him play out in our cul de sac with the neighbor kids. I feel like he is old enough to start figuring out how to be a good friend and play like a normal kid. There seems to be a general consensus to let the kids play without parental hovering and it is a lovely throwback to yesteryear when kids just played with sticks and rocks and chased each other on their bikes. And mostly, it has been a great experience and so so fun to watch. But our next door neighbors hate us. Honestly, I get it: Their kids are older. Their youngest daughter is 7--we have two very young, obnoxious, mischievous boys... They hate dogs--we have a very obnoxious dog. They are meticulous about their yard and it shows; the contrast between our two sets of grass and plants is laughable. So the dog and the kids pose a threat to their beautiful yard and landscaping (I am not being sarcastic--our kids really do walk on the rock wall and wander into their yard because we do not currently have a dividing fence and I simply cannot contain them all the time. They get out.) So my only interactions thus far with my next door neighbor have been her yelling at me because my dog was barking or my kids were irritating her. Fair enough. But yesterday, for the very first time since we moved here, the backdoor neighbor's little girl, Kennedy, came and knocked on our door for Eli to play. That may not sound like much, but it was a big deal. He was ecstatic and so was I, lame, I know. Not 10 minutes later he came in with giant tears and a red face to say that Ava's mom (the next door neighbor) told him to go inside. My heart sank. I went over to ask why, assuming I would need to apologize for something wrong that he did. She lit into me again, beginning, weirdly, with "I know you hate me..." I shook my head and was silent but was thinking, "well you haven't given me very many opportunities to like you." I asked if he was being mean or what the problem was. She retorted, "He is 4, Ava is 7. He is always walking on my rock wall and Ava can't be expected to tell him no all the time." I didn't know what to say so I just said I was sorry and that he just wants to play. It really sucked, then, to watch every neighborhood kid congregate in my neighbor's yard and explain to Eli why he cannot play. In one sense, it is good: Eli has got to learn that if we wants to play, he has to follow rules and play nice. And that is the only way he is going to learn to respect what other people say. But the REAL problem and the reason why I am upset is that my neighbor has now poisoned her daughter against Eli, and she has in turn poisoned the neighbor kids. She yelled at him in front of them so now they think they can do the same. And, now that I realize that, I put together the fact that every time Ava is outside, all of the kids spend most of their time knocking on my door to tell me that Eli "went to the end of the street" or "he can't come in our yard" or "he said shut up" or "he almost hit me with his bike." Like I said, I know Eli is difficult. But it is so painful to have other people point it out, especially people with whom I would like him to play. Its like privately admitting you are fat and being self aware about it, but it hurts so much worse if someone else says it. I personally have pretty thick skin. I don't care much if the neighbors are intolerant or unkind, that is their problem and it doesn't really affect me at this stage of my life that much. But it does affect Eli to have other kids label him and treat him like the "bad kid." And I hurt so much for my child as I watch him try to make friends. I am just starting to realize now that Eli's behavior is going to start affecting HIM and his relationships with other people--not just Adam and me. Up until now, it has only been hard on us. And my heart just breaks for him because I know he will struggle...as much as I would love him to just get along easily with friends, I know he will not. And I know he has got to figure out how to do it on his own. There is not much I can do without turning into a person that I really do not want to be. That hurts.

Updates via belated birthday letters

Dear Eli and Tate:

5 and 2 you two are. I won’t lie, my crazy little crazies—I often feel like you two are the equivalent difficulty level of ten children. If you were a ski slope, you would be a double black diamond, WITH moguls and ice. But I adore you. I love spending my days with you and listening to the alternating mix of nutty nonsense and profound wisdom that comes out of your mouths. We have put you two through a lot this year, including but not limited to two cross country moves in less than a year and all the disruptions that come with that. I am amazed and grateful at how resilient you have been while I have been distracted and preoccupied for the better part of the last year with moving arrangements, important decisions and disappointing miscarriages…I freely confess to letting these circumstances get the better of me on many occasions. I am humbled at how forgiving you are of my impatience with you; you both return kindness for my unkind words and actions to you, hugs for harsh words, and sheepish smiles and shrugs for my frustration. Maybe all the things I think I am teaching you in vain would begin to be more effective if I would allow more of the kindnesses you show me to affect my teaching methods. I will try to do better in the next year and, to that same end, I will REALLY try to not move again. All that being said, the last year has been a very polarizing mix of trying and exciting, which I guess pretty well sums up what any given day with you boys is like.





Eli: Sometimes, little son, I think Heavenly Father sent you to me for the very specific reason of teaching me how to pray. I mean really, get down on my knees and beg for help. I have learned through being your parent the last 5 years that I am no good at asking. I am really good at accepting hard things and not questioning why things are the way they are. I am not so good at asking for specific things that I need personally revealed to me. You, my boy, have not only been a direct source of insight into my own thoughts with your 24/7 barrage of incessant questions, but you have also given me many many reasons to ask for help from Heavenly Father. Eli, I do not want you to think that I do not love every tiny little part of your busy spirit. But I swore the day you were born that I would never lie to you. And I would be lying if I said that you were not a difficult child. I believe your spirit was sent to me to help me navigate my own weaknesses. Because the ones I have must be strengthened if I am going to lead you down the path we all want you to follow. You are my own personal refiner’s fire. I am sorry that I will probably be a better mother to your younger siblings, but I know you have many unique abilities that will help you overcome my weaknesses as a parent: Despite the influence of that stupid show Chuggington which has taught you to parrot phrases like “Oh, I just can’t do it” and “Its no use, I will never be able to finish” you are remarkably, painstakingly persisitent. (By the way, no more Chuggington.) Your powers of persuasion are going to amount to something far more positive than making me wish I had a mute button some day. I think you hung out with Socrates in the pre-mortal life. You certainly have perfected the Socratic method of learning. I have no doubt that you will make your life a habit of life-long learning due to your inquisitive nature: You ask about the meaning of every third or fourth word every time we read scriptures; you quiz me non-stop about blinking lights, the mechanics of the refrigerator and the distance to the moon. You are so friendly and gregarious and outgoing. I am so confident of your potential son. I know you are capable of just about anything if we can polish your rough edges and channel your energy. You are smart and charismatic and have an unlimited amount of energy that somehow still surprises me every single day. You are such a good brother to Tate and I love watching you make him laugh; you love doing anything that will make him laugh and that makes me happy. I love you so much and I am so proud of all of the good things you are doing. I honestly can’t wait to see what you are going to do with your life; if the surprises I get on a day to day basis are an indication of the pattern your life will take going forward, we are all in for a wild ride. And I am excited. I love you buddy, happy birthday my big five year old.





Tate: From the day you were born, I knew you were made mostly of sugary-sweet something, which was a fitting personality for a kid who weighed nearly 30 pounds at 6 months. I didn’t know quite how much your environmental surroundings (ie, aforementioned sibling) would influence your capacity for persistent destruction; but at the end of the day, you are still my sweet snuggly boy at whom I just can’t help smiling- even when you are standing in front spilled milk, dumped with skilled precision through my wooden bench, covering every square inch of the puzzles and dripping nicely in a long line onto the carpet. That happened on Saturday. You melt my heart Tate. I don’t know whether it is because I can so easily predict your daily reactions or meltdowns or whether I see a little bit of myself in you. If Eli was sent to help me overcome my weaknesses, I think you were sent to soften my heart and make me laugh and smile while I am trying to do that. You are such a good little talker/rambler. You are sensitive and predictable. And even though you like to erupt in screaming fits after I ask you to do something like put your truck down or share a toy, you always do it. Sometimes, if I am in a particularly mean mood, I will tell you to do something just to see you be implicitly obedient and then freak out! I shouldn’t do that…but it is way funny. Something that we seriously need to discuss though? You climbing into my bed every night about 2am! You have outsmarted me completely. At first you used to walk in and proclaim, “Hi mom!” But you figured out quickly that that landed you right back in your bed. So now, you stealthily climb up at the bottom of the bed and creep in as quietly as possible. It is not until a few hours later when you are magnetically attached to my back that I realize you are even there. You little stinker. And then it is really funny if I ask you if you are supposed to sleep in my bed, always replying no with a wicked snicker. I love that you love me Tate. I love that you always want a hug, that you tell me how important it is to be nice to friends—“no hitting, no biting, be soft,” and that you get so passionate/crazy about the food you want or toys you want to play with. Your diggers and tractors have a tremendously good best friend in you my little buddy. And so does your brother. I am so happy that I am your mom. I love you buddy, happy birthday my big two year old.

Exploring our new region

Life has been good, if not slow, since we moved to New Hampshire. I spend far less time cleaning up after my kids because all of the messes they make in the backyard bother me far less than they did in closed quarters. I feel like we have unleashed our formerly caged kids into the great wide open and they just love it. They play in our backyard most all of everyday. Sometimes clothed, sometimes not. Whatever. Live free or die right? It is the New Hampshire way.




So this past week, we took a mandatory vacation while Adam's office closed. We went up to Acadia National Park in Maine and it was absolutely spectacular. The boys loved it. I loved it. We camped for two nights and stayed in a hotel (acting as a stink and decent night's sleep buffer) in between. I am not a huge fan of campground camping but I would go back to this one again just to pick the wild blueberries again! It was amazing. I picked for about an hour and this is what I came home with. I know it doesn't look like much but I was pretty proud. And for a moment, as I looked up and out over the hills and ocean to check on my kids--Eli hunting in the bushes with a stick and Tate sitting smack down in the bush, blue faced snacking on dirt and blueberries--I was in heaven. Often I have thought that I would have been a terrific pioneer wife and homesteader. And I totally felt like one letting my boys roam the Earth, not caring one bit they they smelled like campfire and dirt and were just plain downright disgusting and dirty, whilst I was gathering food straight off the ground.




So we brought home the blueberries and a giant LIVE lobster we lovingly named Pinchy. Pinchy and Duane rode in the back together. It is too bad that only one of our "pets" lived to see the next day. Needless to say, we (by we, I mean Adam...I couldn't watch) cooked and consumed our first lobster. It was pretty good but I later learned we chose one that was too big; the sweet, tender and juicy ones are apparently 2 lbs or less.






Anyway, things are good. Adam is loving his job and just picked up another day working at a state prison, which he is ecstatic about. Pulling teeth and mingling with convicts--brushing up on all of the information he has learned from watching "Gangland"--what is not to love? Our house still has not sold. Which is beyond frustrating and bad and all that. But what do you do? Keep trying and quit whining I guess. The best news is that Tate and I get to go to Indiana to see my sister Chelsea and her family. Wahoo! We, how do I put this...well, we both need a break from a certain 4 year old who lives in this house. Don't get us wrong, we love him. But...we just need a break. So to Indiana we go.

Hello blog, it's me Ashley

I am not going to go into the many reasons why I am a defunct blogger; the short of it centers on my house, kids and trying to short sell my house. Enough.

And though I tried to avoid it, this blog is my neglected journal. So an update is in order I suppose. We have had a crazy and wonderful 6 months. Here are the highlights:
-Adam graduated from the Loma Linda school of Dentistry on Sunday May 29th. The ceremony wasn't nearly as hot or long as we anticipated, my shoes were cuter than any I have ever owned (too bad I probably won't ever find another reason to wear them) and everything was perfect. Both of our parents came for the event and we had a wonderful time chatting, eating and quietly celebrating the accomplishments of the one we all adore so much. I made some pretty outstanding food, I have to note: Gorgonzola crusted beef tenderloin, rosemary rolls, sweet potato fries and carrot cake.
-After that decadent event, my parents whom I cannot thank enough took our boys to Utah so we could pack up the house. The house is so riddled with mixed emotions for me. It is where I have raised my crazy boys. I love that house. It was hard to say goodbye, but only for a moment. We did it and we moved out and on. But I miss these and other people so so much. Good friends make your location your home. I am still working on making this new place a place where friends make me feel at home--even more for my kids than for me.
-And then Adam and I went to Maui! Maui is something for which I cannot thank my inlaws enough. What a gift. They watched our boys and sent us on their dime to Maui for 5 wonderful days. We went on a helicopter ride, rented a Harley and went to the top of the volcano, ate more decadent food and devoured our favorite books in prisine, beach bliss. So so fun. This event must be repeated.

-Then Adam officially became a New Hampshirian and a working man while the boys and I enjoyed some more time in Utah and at our favorite locale--the Ranch in Atlanta, ID.



So so fun and a good way to say farewell, bite the bullet and actually move ourselves 3000 miles away.

Whew. That was a little rough. But we are getting the hang of it. Fortunately, a week after we moved in, Olivia and her family came and visited for the 4th of July. I could have holed up in my house for weeks, just putting stuff away and convincing myself that I had neither the time nor the inclination to go anywhere and explore. But go and explore we did: We went to Boston on the 4th and then spent the next 5 days entertaining our kids at the farm, local ice cream shops, lake, beach and pool. They had so much fun...maybe a little too much fun. Maybe non-stop entertainment is NOT the best thing for kids??? They loved playing all day and it was so fun to have familiar faces here. When Olivia left, she said, "I think you live in a really cool place." And that has really helped me get more comfortable in this new place that I am supposed to call home.
One more thing: I have become quite the chef in the past year. I think I decided to cook myself through all of the moving and house stress. It has worked and a few people have benefited from it. And last week my sister in law even taught me how to make a decent loaf of bread. Not decent, like freaking outstanding! It's amazing. I am addicted and make bread almost everyday now. Yeah, I make bread. Still not grinding my own wheat, and maybe I never will, but...we also made jam and we decided that we could almost pass as pioneer women.

4 year olds rock

Someone wise once said "4 year olds rock." Maybe it was me that said it; in any case, whoever did was right--they do. Today my Eli is 4 years old. I remember thinking about this day, wondering how weird it would feel to be the mom of a 4 year old when Adam graduated. But here we are, almost fully functioning adults, and it is not weird. It is awesome. Because, again, 4 year olds are awesome. In the last year, Eli has gone from making me feel like I am constantly treading water, to making me feel like there are few people in the world that I would rather sit down and chat with than my own son. He is fun, funny, conversational and witty and hard to keep up with in a totally awesome, extra calorie burning (no longer frustratingly, mind numbingly difficult) way. I love Eli for everything he does to remind me of my husband, whom I also adore. I see absolutely nothing of myself in him. But as I listen to him rattle off quirky made up songs, stubbornly insist on doing things his way (which more often than not turn out to be pretty creative and ingenious,) be a clothes hater, and run circles around me (literally) and everyone else I feel like I get a window into what my husband's childhood must have been like. And at worst, that is humorously frustrating, but at best totally hilarious, interesting and endearing. I am so happy that Eli is in our family. He pretty much makes us what we are. And I like what we are. Love you E.