Magdalene

Maggie is three weeks and one day old today.  She looks just like the each of the boys did and melts our hearts just as quickly.  Today she celebrates her first Easter.  She was the first one up this morning bright and early ready to welcome in the new day.  We have been sitting in the loving room waiting for the sun to rise.

Each one of the boys were named with biblical names and so it would seam logical that Maggie would have received the same.  Before Maggie was born I did a lot of reading in the Old and New Testaments trying to come up with a name for her.  One evening while sitting in bed reading I read the account again of Mary Magdalene coming to the empty tomb and finding the risen Lord to be gone.  A brief moment later she is called by name and realizes that the Savior of the world was risen and He was here with her, to love her, to succor her, to sustain her.

The name Magdalene stayed with me that night and while lying in bed Maggie came to mind.  My shortened, sweetened name of a beautiful daughter of God.  And so that is what we call this little sis.  After having received a name and blessing from her Father in church last week our Maggie was too blessed with great faith in the Savior Jesus Christ.

Happy Easter my little Maggie Lynn.  I hope you will always remember the inspiration for your name.

Missed a Spot

Tonight over grilled cheese sandwiches, applesauce, and steamed broccoli my children began asking me what they used to do when they were 2 years old.  Tell me what I did!  They loved hearing about what they did and the trouble they caused.  My memory is so incapable.  All of them have been terrible at some point in their lives.  I have vowed to sell each of them to the lowest bidder but I can't remember 8 years later what it was that made them so terribly two in the moment.  So here is to a renewal of recording the lives of my children.

Michael = mascara.  I am pretty sure there is a similar blog post for this child not too long ago.  He has such a gift to apply it without getting it anywhere but on/near his eye.  For that I am really thankful.

How can you not love a guilt ridden face such as this?

Step into Mom's office while we try to get that darling make-up job off.

Be Still

A few nights ago Jonathan was working and I had mounted my gallant steed I call "motherhood."  I was cracking the whip, ripping down the job chart, and firing up dinner.  It was within a matter of only minutes that I felt my saddle had loosened and with each gallop I was sliding down further and further until I was grasping the underside belly of that horse and holding on for dear life.

The chicken was on the grill preparing to become dinner.
My 8 year old was practicing the piano.
The 7 year old was feeling sick so he was lounging on the couch.
The 4 year old was picking up toys.
The 2 year old was helping in the kitchen.

And then in the slightest moment the 4 year old comes out of the bathroom half naked with poop everywhere.  Huh?
The 8 year old storms mad as a hornet from the piano screaming for help because he just can't make sense of his song.  He needs my help right now!
The fevering 7 year is reduced to tears and needs mom to come here right now.
The two year old, seeing a window of opportunity, pushes a chair to the kitchen counter, climbs up and empties the soap pump to sputters all over himself and the counter.
Chicken, was there chicken cooking?  Let's redefine dry meat shall we.

In that single moment I stood in the kitchen begin bombarded by 4 little men, slick n' slimy soap, poop smeared legs and floor, tears n' chills with aches, screams and pounding white and black keys and a smoking grill.  My 38 week pregnant belly, swollen legs, and contracting uterus were so weary beyond measure all I could do was laugh and imagine one more in the mix... a wailing hungry baby needing to be fed by the only one that can do it, mom.

I think I am losing it but I found such joy in that moment.  It was a moment when I had no control.  I was simply holding on for dear life and enjoying the ride.  Clinging to motherhood, upside down, at a galloping pace.

It was real life.  It was utter delight. It was such trivial things to just marinade in.

Grandma Dear I Love You So...

It's not every person, nor every day that one can wake up and say, today I have lived 100 years.

January 8th, 2013 my maternal Grandmother, Uwin VanBuren awoke to having lived through a century.

Oh, how I love her.

I have never heard her utter a terse word.

Her carpet was always immaculate.  When she walked into a room she would scan the carpet for a piece of string, blade of grass, anything that didn't belong and quickly remove it to the garbage.  She had the most amazing set of finger vacuums I have ever known.

She made really creamy macaroni and cheese that my brother Ryan loved.

We always played Rook around her kitchen table.

She loved to sit on her patio in the evening and enjoy the warmth of Orangeville summers.

Her garden had an infinite supply of green peas in the early spring.

She loved us and even made us jam when we trampled through the mulberries under the tree in our bare toes and came in with purple footprints on her new cream carpet.

She always used peach colored Dove soap.

Now she lives in an assisted living facility.  Her eyesight has been gone for several years due to macular degeneration.  She lost my Grandfather 8 years ago.  He would have been 100 this year also.  But her mind is sharp and her memory clear.  I can walk into the room and say, "Hi Grandma!" and she knows just who it is.

Happy 100th Birthday Grandma!

Myself, Grandma Van Buren and my mother, Barbara Olsen

Jenson Family with Grandma Van Buren - Summer 2013

                                   

Shoes

I was filled with gratitude today as I walked into my closet to find Michael's little Sunday shoes sitting there.  At first I walked past them to grab my own slippers but stopped and went back just to look at them.  I couldn't help but smile.  This little pair of shoes came from cousin Dallas as has 90% of everything my boys have all worn.  These little black shoes have made their way down the line through all four of the boys and I just simply love them.  I feel so blessed to have had the last 9 years, nearly a decade, of nurturing the little men in my life.  Each one so completely unique.  They all have worn the same pair of shoes but not one of them have walked the same path.  I have learned and grown from each one of them and the road they have trodden.  It is humbling to realize I am beginning to have moments of motherhood when I pause and look back on what has been and not always reflect on what still lies ahead.  I wonder if I will have another that will wear these shoes or if I am beginning the end of a beautiful era in my life.  Life passes so sweetly.  There is so much tenderness, and joy along the way. I am just so filled with gratitude for memories.

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.