Happy Birthday Amber

Thirty-Two.

I received my very first violin.

The day after Christmas Jonathan told the family to load up in the van.  All of us?  Yes, get in.  Why?  Just get in.

So we obliged.

We began driving through Grants Pass and then toward the other end of town, onto the freeway and headed toward Medford.  That is not unusual.  It is a 30 minute drive to the "big city."  But we didn't stop, blink or exit.  We kept driving.  Desolation soon arrives south of Medford.  By now I was clueless as to where we were going and why.  Jonathan had to be to work in 2 hours and there wasn't much left now that we were past Medford.

Except for a quaint little town called Ashland.

We exited there and drove around until Jonathan figured out exactly where we needed to be.  It was apparent he had never been there before and was as clueless as the rest of us.  But he knew what he was looking for.  Jonathan finally settled with a parking spot in a little ally amongst some unattractive buildings.  He told me to get out.  I was bamboozled.  Cinderblock walls were not my idea of - well, anything.  

So I humored him and got out.

I turned to the back of the van where an obscure door with a small window beside it could be seen.  As I drew closer to the window I caught my first glimpse - stringed instruments.

I choked and the tears swelled.

Jonathan opened the door for me and I felt like I had been led into a magical fairy tale.  The walls were lined with every sort of antique strung instrument I have ever seen and some I haven't seen.  Tools and equipment dated from the 1800's filled the workshop and an older gentleman was working on a bass.

It was the most beautiful little place I have ever seen.  He welcomed us to his workshop and inquired to our needs.  Jonathan introduced ourselves and said, "We are here to purchase a violin; for her.  I understand in all of southern Oregon there is no finer place to purchase an instrument so we would like to see what you have."

I didn't know what to say.  It has been almost 1 1/2 years since I have touched a violin.  I left a rental behind in Iowa and have longed to pick one up again since our move to Oregon but it just hadn't happened.  But naturally, the precious man that I married did every ounce of research possible, talked with multiple sources and scoured the state over until he found the perfect place to offer a perfect gift.

And he did.

We came home with violin, bow, case, shoulder rest, and fresh rosin ;-).

He went to work and I played until my children couldn't stand to be neglected any longer.  Sadly it was the first Michael can recall hearing the instrument although he was raised by the sound of it from the womb.  He was fascinated.  The older boys nestled in to going about their own things knowing I was nestled into mine.

It is taking some sincere refreshers on how to play the instrument.  But I am eager to get my calloused fingers back.

And so at 32, I received this beautiful piece of wood.

32nd birthday - #5 on the way.  Thirty weeks along.

It must have been a good day, because I loath having pets in the house and somehow, the dog managed to not only cross the threshold, but make it  into the kitchen as well.

Happy Birthday to Me.

Jonathan made a red velvet cake with pink pig sprinkles.  It was incredibly good.

Breaking in the Helmets

Santa brought us helmets for the three big boys this year so two days after Christmas we went for a drive to Union Creek to break them in.  We had a great time.  I waddled around and watched while snapping pictures.  Jonathan was the official tug rope.  His lap the official parking spot of Andrew and Michael on their descents down the hill.

And in typical fashion, Matthew was the source of the only blood shed for the day.  Below shows a series of blurry shots of one of his kamikaze runs.

Crash.  What crash?  Just a small eye scratch.

I've Been Trying... but, I Still Can't Wrap My Head Around a Girl

Turn your kids lose with the camera on your phone and you can learn a lot about yourself...

 I am a

panel pants wearing

mac n' cheese blowing

vericose vein sporting

hair accessory stitching

baby bootie, coordinating dress sewing

flannel blanket making

f-i-r-s-t time ever

about to become

mother of a

daughter.

And I'm terrified.

 I am realizing I like felt

 I LOVE the fact that 40 years later I still sew with my mother's 

first Bernina and it doesn't miss a stitch

 I really like corduroy but I don't care much for the prints that are available

 Black, red and white are acceptable colors for a little girl with 4 older brothers.  I still don't believe in pink.  I am sure this non-acceptance will change in time.  It is just odd to march to the beat of a different drum.  I never thought having a daughter would feel so unnatural.

On The Way to Church Today...

I said to Michael, "You are TWO."  Even though he really isn't, he is.  Every human who has ever had any sort of an up close association with a child knows that TWO-DOM shows its first signs at 18 months and is in PEAKED FULL FORCE by the time a two year birthday rolls around.  The child will not keep his shoe or sock on his right foot when we are driving.  I guess I always put both socks and shoes on before we leave the house simply so that when we arrive at our destination I know somewhere in the van is the missing mate.  Occasionally he shows off both sets of piggies, but inevitably always the right.

Michael has also shown signs of an aspiring esthetician.  (Side note, I once had an acquaintance ask what Jonathan did for a living.  I told her he was an anesthetist and in her mind it registered esthetician. I don't know how long it was she thought he made up pretty faces and played with make-up for a living.  It was rather funny to me when we cleared up that little misunderstanding.)  ANYWAY... Michael has combined his facial skills with keen interest in becoming two and in the last 3 weeks has come up with this -

The peanut butter facial, I cut an apple, gave him a little spoonful of peanut butter to dip it in and made one QUICK trip to bathroom folks.

Shaving cream facial.  I have to admit, on this one I just sat and watched him do it.

The dry erase marker facial... He was "playing" in the living room while I was doing dishes.  We had one lingering marker that we couldn't find after playing General Conference Bingo for two days straight and within the next week or so Michael found it all by himself.  He has developed a need to go for the face.

Mascara.  This one I attribute to a mother's need to shower.  I know there are a few of those crazy kinds out there that dare to step behind the glass door while their children are awake.  I am one.  I had no idea Michael could reach high enough to get into my drawer, let alone unscrew the lid off my mascara and apply so liberally.  Wow.  I have to say though, he does have a knack.  He may have missed a lash or two but the little darling didn't get any anywhere but the general location of his eyes.  Bless him for that.

And so you have seen the many faces of Michael throughout the month of October.  And now you also see what I do for a living... scrub.

Art Along the Rogue

Every year the first weekend in October Grants Pass sponsors a huge event of street chalk artists that come and sketch on the streets of our downtown.  There are some remarkable artists.  It amazes me that they can create in such dimensions.  This year the biggest sketch was an Angry Birds theme.  I am personally not a huge fan of Angry Birds but my boys thought is was awesome.  I do appreciate the fact that someone spent A LOT of time on their hands and knees to whip this baby out.

 While strolling the streets Michael developed a keen interest in my gum.  I gave him a piece and he tried to blow his own little bubbles... pursed lips and all.

 I was impressed that he chewed his piece of gum for 2 hours and then gave it to me when he was done chewing.  I wish I could teach my 4 year old that skill.

Priesthood Session Cinnamon Rolls

For many a years my little posse has had a family tradition during the Priesthood Session of General Conference.  Dad leaves and the rest of us make cinnamon rolls and are they ever so goooood.  This is Michael's first experience of being in on the action of whipping up some lovin' for when Daddy gets home.  I think he sat in front of the oven and watched every second of those little rolls of heaven rise in the oven.  Little does he know it is something he will get to look forward to every 6 months for the next 17 years.... 17 NOW THAT MY BOYS CAN LEAVE FOR MISSIONS WHEN THEY ARE 18!  In 15 seconds of revelation from the Prophet I lost a potential 4 years of up-close motherhood.  I couldn't feel more blessed to have 4 sons to raise up to the occasion. 

Hmmmm.... I may have just found a little cinnamon roll symbolism - 

'Rise Up Ye Men of God'

Rain Gutter Regatta

Adam had his first cub scout rain gutter regatta.  One of many I am sure the Jenson's will be attending in the next decade or so.  He was awesome and I took some AWESOME pictures but the computer ate them.  Nevertheless it spared us this single picture of his first regatta.  At the end of the night his little red boat won 2nd.  Way to blow-Adam-O!!

Three finger stance baby!!!!

Okay, I have some serious confessions.  For my 8th birthday I didn't want a pretty white dress for my baptism, I wanted a BYU football and a San Francisco 49er's jersey.  I got them both.  I have brown-leather-oval disease.  It is this crazy rush of adrenaline that seeps into my veins and takes control of my body upon mentioning the game of football.  Not trying to boast here, but when I was a wee lassy I was freakin' rad at football.  I bloodied more bodies and sacked more guys than any other person during neighborhood football games.  During P.E. at school I always got picked first, always.  I was anything but dainty and petite growing up.  Until high school I could run faster and bench press more than any guy in my school.  I was built to play ball.  Oh how I loved to play football!  My life came to an end when my mother told me I was not allowed to sign up for 7th grade football.  According to her, ladies don't play tackle football with the boys.  I was crushed, I was anything but a lady, I was a brawny, quick, shifty awesome football player.  Can you blame me?  I had spent every year of my life up to that point shoveling hog manure, picking rock and bucking hay bales.  I was born, bread and raised to be tuff and play ball.  

With the passing of time I have come to realize my mother was right.  Dang it, I am a lady.  And I actually like it.

BUT this lady bore 4 sons. Ahhhh yaaaa!!!!!

So I live it up, vicariously through them.  It may be flag, but I'm crazy in the bleachers clenching my fists with every play and cheering on MY BOY like it's nobody's business.

And so I give you Mr. Three Finger Stance Himself, my firstborn son, Adam.  The kid is awesome.  He plays both ways because he is just that awesome. 

Adam is on the left in the red shorts.  So Mr. Defense in black is 50 lbs. bigger, not a problem.  Adam worked this kid over.

Arms everywhere.

Oh wait, that's not ADAM with the flag AGAIN?  Oh, ya I guess it is.  Shocker.

Look at this shot  He is about to eat this QB for lunch.  We call this wicked intimidation in other words, incomplete pass.  Ahh Yaaa!

The other team began to fear this lineman.

Who's that that came from clear across the other side of the field to make a play, ah yes, my firstborn once again.

Workn' it...

Ya, you're toast.  That blazin' kid in red is about to smash you.

Who's got the flag this time?  Big D himself.  Adam you rock my world!!!

Okay, watching Adam play has got to be one of the funnest things I have ever done in my ENTIRE life.  Things will change when the pads go on and my baby comes home beat up, but if it's the other kid that gets beat up... well I just might have to encourage the sport a little.

Go Red!!!!!!!!