They are like sharks, or are sharks.  They smell blood, weakness, and attack.  They are my children.  And they have a keen sense of when mama is barely keeping afloat.  Their father is lounging in the boat, soaking in the sun, enjoying the light salty sea spray, and glancing over the side thinking,  "awe, I didn't know dolphins had so many rows of teeth and a such a razor edge dorsal fin.... too cute!"  "Leslie, honey! You're swimming with flipper, we should instagram this."
No, Zander.  Wash the sunblock out of your eyes.  This is JAWS!  Get off your butt and get me out of here.

He did.

Needless to say the kids are being whipped into shape this weekend.  No, not literally whipped, people, but close.  Just kidding.

 

I understand exactly how that apple feels. 

 Below.  She leaves no survivors.

After a great change like a new baby, the whole house (except Zander, of course) takes the first flight off this earth to la la land.  Its only a matter of time, though, before things settle down again.  God is so faithful and I feel soothed by His non judgemental ears and eyes.  He knows to the core our weakness and the dark things that can prey on His children.  The lies.  The kids are one thing.

 They can be managed.  But its another to face your own demons.

In a city of 3 million people, I can still feel isolated.  The assumption that I'm the only one that struggles with such and such shapes my perspective, narrows it, perverts it.  Yet, when I get out the door, open my heart up to people, I realize I am not some sort of sub species, but very much human.  I'm trying to be more open in hopes to fish for more "I totally get you!" or "I'm so glad I'm not the only one"   And then there is Christ, fully human fully God, who mysteriously and undoubtedly understands and gets the nitty gritty details of being at home with 3 tots and much of the under lying issue connects to someone, anyone out there.  And it feels so good to find that person when I do who ever they may be. 

He can be a real slice of ham, this kid.

Happy Birthday daddy

Little beetles on their backs.  With wiggly limbs and smiles that quicken across their perfectly plump cheeks.  I don't know who they will be exactly, so I'll just safely put them in the category of 'AWESOME'  Yet, as people who love babies, we throw our love blindly into the future.  Hopefully, as it hurls headlong into the unknown, the path it carves will be the one we always follow.  In the future, as a mom and aunt, I will find my love face to face with these grown up cherubs.  I trust God to get us all there.

These two.  Basically twins.  Born three weeks shy of each other.  They are lounging on, what I believe to be a blanket intended for my older brother, my mom's first born who only experienced the woes of this world for a couple of days, then left to go help God find me the best sycamores to climb when I meet up with him.  I'm only assuming, but I think I have a pretty good hunch this was one of his heavenly priorities. 

This makes my heart settle in nice and cozy seeing them, all of the stinkers really, make use of their uncle's blanket.

It is such a trivial thing.  I am foolish to obsess over it.  Fear of the future dims the lights and I can barely see my feet when I walk through this life.   If I can just find the answer to my question, I'd find the light switch and I'd quit chasing shadows.

Chalk it up to post partum, but I can't seem to shake the question "Should we have another biological child?"
"Who cares?!!"  I scream at my thoughts.  More softly, "Rest your mind, rest your heart on the amazing lifeforms that run around making a mess of my unfounded pride".

The other afternoon, Ender joined me on the bench swing in the backyard.


"Are we going to have another baby after Sam grows up?" he asks.

"Uh, I'm not sure.  Should we?"  (I'm losin it, asking family planning advice from a four year old)

"No, three is the rule"  He pipes.

"Oh really?  Who told you that?"

"Nobody.  Its just the rule."

"Well what if we had a fourth.  Then what?"

"I'd be happy"

"What about Three is the Rule?"

"Then Four would be the Rule"  he quips.  "THEN TWENTY ONE HUNDRED!"  (Thats his favorite number to yell)

Thank you my sweet boy, my little teacher with twiggy limbs and stinky breath. 

You're right.  Whatever we have, we have.  That is the "rule". 

It used to be that Oak Creek canyon would begin to feel suffocating after a few days spent crawling around like an ant at the bottom.  Restlessness would begin to set in my bones and I'd want to escape to the wide open.

 Now, I know it's embrace was only meant to hold me until I stopped squirming from the fruitless busyness of my mind.  It holds me like Zander holds the children when they are having a complete utter melt downs.  Once I'm swaddled in emerald trees and the glowing rose of the canyon walls, I stop fighting.  I think I just might be learning how to be a child again: puttering around in an orchard, stopping for what seems like eons to let a snail pass, watching movie after movie not caring about the latest child development research, napping, snacking, playing, making unbeautiful messes..

And lets not kid ourselves, this is the reality of living with Calamity Cora these days.  

 

Of this picture Zander says. "you're welcome"

Basically this trip was about "we'll do anything to escape the heat even it means sleeping in a two bedroom condo with Cora"  I am only kidding a little bit.  Honestly, the best thing about this trip was Zander.  He is such a beacon and anchor.  He can seem to exists simultaneously on earth and heaven.  I lavish upon him because its so hard so very hard to get back up on your feet after having a baby.  Well its is for me anyway.

 

 

 Everyone on this trip did awesome.  We told ourselves that this wasn't going to be a vacation, only a new home. So we were expecting to do just as we did in the valley except in Sedona.  Our new home had a dishwasher, king sized bed, kids room upstairs with a gate to keep Cora at bay (or to protect her from falling down the stairs, but mainly to trap her), our new backyard was an apple orchard enclosed with black berry bushes where Gunther pounded his paws over swells of tall grass chasing his ball, and the kids, well, after a while they got the idea we could care less if they cried or whined, so they climbed trees and chomped on apples.

 

Sam would sleep so his siblings could terrorize the pristine creek.

 

He loved his lazy boy the most though. 

Our days could have stretched into months, but we ran out of food.