Rain anyone?

We had a rainstorm yesterday.
It hit suddenly and really poured. I love the rain.
It also included some loud thunder and even some falling ice chunks.
I opened up the doors and listened to the rain.
I enjoyed watching my 2 Littles reactions to the rainstorm.

Cole got right out there and soaked it all in.
Grace. Terrified.
Cried herself right to sleep.

It was good.

I've been wanting to go somewhere or do something a lot lately.
I've daydreamed of Maine in the Fall, and the Bahamas when I walk the kids to school.
I settled on a date night to a rooftop concert in Provo.
It was different and felt far away enough. It was out of our normal date night range.
I made Scott wear his handsome "old man sweater" and flip his hair.
He accused me of trying to make us young again (although he's the one that
said it was an old man sweater).  I felt young. And hip.
We enjoyed some new tunes, holding hands, on a rooftop in the chilly September air.
Surrounded by mostly 20-somethings from BYU.
It was new. I like new with someone old.
Then we tried something else new, but definitely not  free. 5 Guys.
I have to admit the food was delish.

It was Stake Conference weekend.
I know the joy of having children old enough/responsible enough
to babysit. Scott and I enjoyed the adult session of Stake Conference,
just the two of us.  The speakers were so uplifting and the Spirit testified
of the truthfulness of their words. My testimony grew.
By the way Jen, I used that cute little book you gave me at sister campout!
President Wilkinson spoke of the Holy Ghost touching our hearts and our minds. (D&C 8)
He talked about the Holy Ghost giving us an impression in our hearts. A general feeling.
Next we must act on that impression. This is faith.
He will then speak again to our minds just as he did for Enos.
It was a beautiful talk.

Scott, Chloe and Asher did the duty of going an hour early to the Sunday meeting
so we could have a soft seat. Again the speakers were so wonderful and inspiring.
I loved President Holland's pioneer stories and especially this  quote:
"Conform our will to His and then make that will rock-ribbed and pioneer strong."
Sounds like some good branding for tires or something of the like.

President Packer shared a story when he was a young seminary teacher.
Of course I immediately thought of Dad, being that President Packer was Dad's seminary teacher.

President Packer had a boy in his class who contributed best when he stayed at home. (Dad assured me this boy was not himself :) During a meeting with several other seminary teachers President Packer asked at what point he could ask the boy not to come to class anymore.

The answer he received was, "What if he were your boy?"

The kids pulled off another Sunday night extravaganza. 

They performed Noah & the Ark complete with puppets,

lighting (think lightning, God speaking to Noah, etc.),backdrops,

and brownies afterwards. I recorded (sorry no still photos for you to enjoy) 

and Scott attempted to keep Grace from pulling the entire

production (precariously set up on a walker) to the ground. 

The weekend?
It was good.

Oh those crazy kids.

Kids are fun.
They do funny things.
They say funny things.
They think differently than us adults do, and it's refreshing.

Is there ever another time in life that you build forts on the couch to read in?
Jump rope with friends on a late summer night wearing helmets?
Run around barefoot in the grass with ice cream on your chin?
Let yourself get creative with Laffy Taffy?
Blew bubbles in the front room?

Sometimes I complain about the mess in the house.
But they are constantly doing something. They rarely rest.
Shouldn't we adults be more like that?  More creative and carefree.
I vote yes.

of 

You Did this to Me

I've been thinking about pregnancy lately.
No this is not an announcement.
I've just been thinking about the wonder of it all.

I've seen a few pregnant women here and there- a few REALLY pregnant women
 and some still caught in the throes of terrible morning sickness.
I always feel a bit of their excitement/pain when I see them.
Bringing a baby into this world is not for the faint of heart.

While I shouldn't complain about my pregnancies, because they are mild compared to others,
that first sickly part is the worst for me.
 It's just so depressing and barfy.

Not feeling like yourself, not being able to accomplish the
 most essential tasks, constant nausea really tests me.

And then there is the recovery after baby.
In the beginning(baby #1 & #2) I just bounced back. I felt like me quickly.
Jeans? Sure. Clean the house when I get home? No problemo.
On with the routine.

But I noticed something this 5th and final time.
I was worn out.
My incision hurt.
I had a permanent muffin top.
My abs seem to have separated. Like the Red Sea was parted- so too my abs.
My hair fell out.
I grew little baby hairs all over the front of my head.
It felt so thin- and it was the only thin thing on me!
I had it cut several times and the stylist would urge me to just hang in there
and use some goo to stick those baby hairs down.
I went for the gym clothes look day in and day out, but I never went to the gym.

It's taken some work to make me feel a bit like myself again, but I think it's happened.
My hair feels normal.
My clothes "fit".
I can sneeze and not have to change my pants.

My baby is 20 months old.
Yep. Nearly 2.
And she is wonderful. It's worth every bit of it.
Hats off to all those women out there who sacrifice so much to bring babies into this world.

Grace and the Giant Tomato

There was an offer officially posted on Facebook.
"Who needs or wants some fresh from the garden tomatoes? Come to my house and get them ASAP."
I sent a runner. 
One whom I hadn't called on previously to do an "extra chore for Mommy".


He came home carrying a heavy sack of fresh tomatoes. (Ironically, he is the only one who will not eat a tomato at our home). 
Oh my. They were beauties.
We washed, sliced, and sprinkled with kosher salt (of course), and ate until I had to start warning about the dangers of too much tomato acid (call Aunt Molly, she'll tell ya.)


After we had finished I pulled out the Grand Daddy of Tomatoes and handed it to little Grace. It was a photo op, what can I say. 
She was excited. She wasn't done eating tomatoes!

She tackled the big boy.

Rotate. Bite. Rotate. Bite.

And so it went. 

Dripping juice and seeds.

She even shared with her tomato-loving sister.

And then....

I pulled the plug on the acid-fest.

It wasn't pretty. 

The "love apple" had turned my baby against me. 

It was just out of her reach.

And so she turned on me. 

First with some hitting.

And then hanging. 

But to no avail. I could not give in for her tummy's sake. 

Dear Cami,

Thank you for sharing your garden's bounty.

Love, 

The Brownings