The Terrible Two

My twins.

They're two. (Well, almost. I'm rounding up.)

They're terrible.

Two toddlers should be just twice the trouble, right?

Wrong.

They're twice the trouble, plus a whole lot more, because not only do they get into everything--times two--but they also provoke each other into greater heights of terrible-ness.

I am exhausted. Burned out. Drained. Worn through. Going grey prematurely.

Goodnight.

Thankful

Today was a beautiful day.

It was the first time that my entire "original" family--i.e., my parents and brothers and myself--has ever been all together with our spouses and children. Ever.

It took a decade, but for today, we were together.

We didn't do anything spectacular (although the food was certainly spectacular, and so was the pile of dishes), but perhaps the "doing nothing, together" was what made it spectacular.

What's more, for the last week, I have pondered on the many, many things to be thankful for. There are ever so many.

I won't take the time or space here to write a seemingly endless list, but I will carry that list in my heart, and I will ponder on this beautiful thought by H.E. Manning:

Gratitude consists in a watchful, minute attention to the particulars of our state, and to the multitude of God's gifts, taken one by one. It fills us with a consciousness that God loves and cares for us, even to the least event and the smallest need of life.

It is a blessed thought, that from our childhood God has been laying His fatherly hands upon us, and always in benediction; that even the strokes of His hands are blessings, and among the chiefest we have ever received. When this feeling is awakened, the heart beats with a pulse of thankfulness.

Every gift has its return of praise. It awakens an unceasing daily converse with our Father,—He speaking to us by the descent of blessings, we to Him by the ascent of thanksgiving.

And all our whole life is thereby drawn under the light of His countenance, and is filled with a gladness, serenity, and peace which only thankful hearts can know.

What Are You Thankful For?

Sorry, two video clips in a week. This one was just too good to miss.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tuwid8_O8dk

A Very Photographed Halloween

Halloween pictures, at last.

Isaac & Madeline, the little wizards. This, unfortunately, is the only picture we have of both of them wearing their hats at the same time.

Carving pumpkins.

The result.

Now, on to the more interesting stuff.

Every year at Halloween, students at UVa hold a trick-or-treating extravaganza on the "Lawn," by Jefferson's Rotunda, on UVa campus.

It's quite the event. I think the entire city comes.

UVa students who live in the dorms on the Lawn are told to purchase at least $200 of candy. I do know that some UVa organizations subsidize some of the cost, for some of the students. But I always hope that the students have money for food afterwards.

Anyway, this year I attempted the Lawn festivities with all the kids, and since Brian was out of town, I asked my parents to come along for an extra set of hands.

I don't know who had more fun--us adults or the kids.

My mom, being the photographer extraordinnaire that she is, took oodles of pictures. I can never choose just one or two, so here is a smattering.

(I had to post the above two pictures because they are just so...Clara.)

(Hopefully someday Isaac will forgive me for dressing him in a purple costume. He looks rather effeminate in the above picture. But it's for the greater good, after all!)

(The following three pictures show what Isaac spent the entire afternoon doing.)

(Above: A small snapshot of what the crowd was like--wall-to-wall people, and then some.)

Pumpkin Patch

Two weeks ago (or three?), at high noon, at a local pumpkin patch.

We took along my mom, who had her camera in hand.

This is the typical view I get of the twins nowadays. Running away...

The only semi-decent picture with these two sitting still--for all of five seconds:

Madeline poses.

Isaac won't look at us.

Nathan, feeling sick at the time, mostly sat on a pumpkin and waited to go home.

Giving each other a hug--

--giggling--

--starting to pull each other down--

--over they go--

--in a heap, laughing all the way.

My Dream...and What Happened to It

I have a dream.

I dream of making our bread entirely from scratch, every week.

Last January, we purchased this item, in order to be able to use our stored wheat and in order to pursue that dream. (It's a Nutrimill wheat grinder--with the bottom pulled out--in case you're wondering.)

The grinder sat in the box until last week, waiting.

But last week, I finally made time to figure it out and use it for the first time.

Now, I was realistic. I knew that I wouldn't immediately change my ways and start making six loaves of bread a week. I didn't want to open one of my cans of stored wheat--not yet.

So I called my mom and asked her if she had an already-opened can from which I could steal a few cups of wheat.

"Sure," she said. "Come get it!"

Here is the can--a blurry picture; sorry.

Look closely (again--blurry--sorry). The label says, "OPENED: 3/12/75." The can was opened before I was even born.

I laughed. And then I called a friend, an expert in this sort of thing, who helped me determine that the wheat was still usable.

For the first time, I used the grinder. It worked fabulously.

But then I got nervous about the wheat, and I decided that I'd go ahead and make bread this time with store-bought flour.

With that, I tossed the newly-ground flour in the trash--about ten cups worth.

After making bread dough with bagged flour, I put it to rise and went upstairs for about ten minutes. I encouraged the twins to follow me.

They didn't follow me, and after a bit of ominous Twin Silence, I got nervous.

I went downstairs to find this:

That's flour. Wheat flour, ground from my mom's 1975 kernels, that I had tossed in the trash can. With magnetic letters scattered throughout.

The flour was everywhere--across the entire kitchen floor (beyond the limits of the picture) and well-spread across the carpet.

I found Isaac standing by the trash can, a full-of-flour measuring cup in hand, looking innocently at me.

I found Madeline prancing and skating through said flour, spreading it far and wide across the floor, as Isaac carefully scooped the flour out of the trash can and dumped it out for his sister's enjoyment.

Madeline, while being Miss Twinkle Toes in the flour, also clutched a pencil in hand. Every few moments she would chasse over to the wall, scribble a few circles, and chasse back to Isaac, who would allot her more flour from the trash can. (The picture below was the wall on which she colored, but I took the picture after I had cleaned the wall.)

I couldn't do anything but laugh at the scene.

But while I cleaned up--which took a while--the twins decided to empty the contents of the pantry.

It was then that I decided that this--

--isn't worth it.

My dream will stay a dream, for another year or two. Or maybe ten.

Thought for the Day

From a beautiful talk given by President Henry B. Eyring:

Choose-This-Day

Soccer Boy

This fall we discovered something about our little man.

He loves soccer. And not only does he love it, the kid can play it.

October Project

Last month, with Brian traveling a great deal, I undertook a project that had been on the list for some time.

This looks like a normal bathroom. And it is. But a few weeks ago, it was covered in flowered wallpaper. (I wish I had thought to take a "Before" picture.)

After the kids were in bed each night, I started the work. Five nights of tearing, scraping, and scrubbing revealed the drywall. Then came the painting. And then the cleaning up--a Herculean task.

The change isn't noticeable to anyone except ourselves--but it was a necessary change.

And now, it is done.