Going to the Grocery Store

Going to the grocery store for us Olson's can be a chaotic or delightful or some-combination-thereof time, depending on circumstance. We are blessed to live five doors down from the nearest store, Hank's, which has been a boon in time of sudden need. (Missing an ingredient in the middle of cooking dinner? No problem. Sprinting to the store, finding and paying for said ingredient, and sprinting back takes less than ten minutes. Yes, I'm speaking from experience.) And it's a boon several times a month, too, in slightly less urgent times.

It's also been great fun to go to Hank's on the occasional, special morning to get doughnuts and eat them in the little booth area. We have members who work there, and we almost always run into people we know--the perks or the downside of living in a small town! A downside only on a bad hair day :). We also love the ceiling tiles that droop, the old linoleum, the feeling of being back in time when we're in there--I'm always reminded of going to the Piggly Wiggly with my grandma when we visit Hank's. We LOVE Hank's!

The other grocery store in town, Coburn's, also has perks we enjoy. I enjoy their Super Saver coupons tre-men-dous-ly. And the lady in the bakery almost always comes out with M&M cookies for the boys, which is a treat for them! And they have a drive up, where you can pull up in baking sun or freezing cold and someone else loads your groceries into your car. This hasn't ceased to be novelty with me in the six years we've lived here!

But now change is a-foot. This week, Coburn's opened a new prototype store on the outskirts of town, and we made sure to visit the very first morning it was open. (I rode by during my bike ride last week.) Papa had gotten a sneak-peak tour during Kiwanis a week or so ago, so he told us the impressive statistics he found out: 32,000 square feet (the old store had only 14,000), thirty new employees on top of all of the ones who were tranferred from the old, Sioux Quartzite mixed into the concrete used in the floors (and the dark red flecks are oh-so-becoming).

Brand-spankin'-new! What could be better...

I've never been in a store that's quite so new, and I must admit that I was bedazzled--the perfect rows of vivid produce--and the section is massive compared to the old one!--aisles and aisles of products, including organic and varied choices--four different types of pure maple syrup alone, for example--the spotless glass in front of all the refridgerated and freezer areas. And P just loved the miniature carts! I felt like we were in an adult-sized version of the miniature grocery store at the Children's Museum of South Dakota--everything was just too cute and orderly. My neat-freak heart couldn't stop pitter-patting. :) And on top of getting some uber-deals, we snagged the last freebie bag given to the first customers of the store--a fabric, reusable bag stuffed with non-perishable items like granola bars, crackers, chips and salsa, and lots of things families with young kids like us use all the time. Perk, perk, perk! As we left, P said, "Can we come back, Mommy?" Yes, Honey. We'll come back. And we will always love you, Hank's, but I fear we have a new love--in grocery stores, at least.

...except that it abuts a lovely cornfield? The best of both farming and commercialized worlds.

Girls are Sugar and Spice and Special!

In honor of a few special girls in our lives, here's a special shout-out. As my mom likes to say, "You go, girl!"

We are so blessed to have a very special girl come over to our house about once a week. K plays with the boys, helps me around the house, and especially likes to cuddle with C. K even helps change diapers and rock C to sleep (one of K--and C's--favorite things). They're good pals! K gives C some girl time that she just doesn't get in a house full of boys!

Of course, our little seven-month-old C gets a big mention here. Here's some recent-ish pictures of her that you'll enjoy. Please note that she's going after her brothers' toys (watch those cars, guys!) now that she's eating baby food two to three times a day, "talking" to us by saying "Ba-ba" or "Ma-ma," and crawling. Talking about go-ing, Girl!

 

Our last little-but-BIG-news! girl we have to mention is our beautiful niece, little lady A, who arrived just last Friday. So our little ones have a COUSIN! And C, especially, will love having a girl cousin to commiserate with! We are so excited to meet her and hold her and give her kisses! Because girls are just so sweet, aren't they?

What a doll! The preciousness cannot be contained!

So go and give the girls in your life a special squeeze!

Visible and Invisible Glory

Tonight, after a lovely catch-up chat with Papa on our lovely front porch as we gazed at a lovely sunset, I offhandedly mentioned that I'd like my bike tires inflated. Short back story: Papa gave me my bike on our anniversary six years ago. He took me to church and said there was a surprise for me in the quilting room (a big storage space), and when I looked, there was a bike! It was one of the sweetest and most delightful surprises he's pulled off (the Nook might just beat the bike, though). We enjoyed riding it before the kids were born, and I've managed to ride it a little between pregnancies, but it's been a long time since I've hoisted my wobbly self onto the seat. I've been excited to take a spin this summer.

Anyway, Papa had already done the hard work of digging my long-neglected bike out of the shed last week, and at my words, he jumped up and went straight to the garage. I told him (admittedly half-heartedly) that he didn't have to inflate them now, but he did. And then I looked at the gleaming blue cycle with its oh-so-kickable kickstand and said, "Weeeeell... maybe I'll just ride around the block." Papa waved goodbye.

My ride.

I was about one hundred meters down the sidewalk when I realized that the sunset was reaching my favorite point--just when it last descends behind the horizon. The hues softening the few puffy clouds told me this was a good one, and I started pedaling fast. I was chasing the sunset.

We live a few blocks east of our town's western edge, and I like to walk over sometimes and watch the sunset from a higher point in a residential area that abuts a view of rolling cornfields, farms, and a few copses of trees as far as the eye can see. It's a gorgeous view. However, I had to go farther tonight to see the huge, molten day-gone sun because a new grocery store is now built, set to open next week, past the last row of houses. (I'll definitely do a post on that; it's big news out here.) I hit gravel and veered around the dirt paths that are set to be paved soon until I got to the main road out of town; I could just see the big red ball over the tops of a few trees to the north. I've got to get behind the high school, I thought.

I pedaled furiously down the little slope to the entrance of the high school. The sign flashed the time, 9:03 p.m., as I passed. Not much time. I cut across the grass to get to the library parking lot that connected to the back lot of the school, my jaw hammering with the vibrations of the rough ground. It's been a long, long time since I rode a bike. As I turned past the last corner of the school, I could see the sun, shining with muted ferocity as it sank. In the quiet, I could hear birds nesting, crickets chirping, cicadas calling, even the constant, mechanical buzz of the wind turbine. The wind whispered in the corn. The sight was so beautiful, I couldn't breathe.

 I've felt overwhelmed lately by the lists--all the things I have to do, all the things I should do, all the things I'd like to do, and the very long lists of what I just never do. I'm slowly realizing--I'm a slow learner--that there's no way in God's creation that I can actually get done everything on every list. I go through phases where I convince myself that I'm doing pretty well, that I'm "accomplishing" a lot, whatever that means. And then, when life gets busy, the kids grow and have more needs, I start feeling the pressure, like a boat that's taking on too much water. It's only a matter of time before something gives, before I get swamped. It used to be that I felt like I could "catch up" in the summers--clean out the closets, feel like I could get a fresh start to each school year. That's getting much harder--impossible?--to do.

But in the twilight, watching the sunset, I remembered that all of this life is meaningless. We chase ourselves and our loved ones around and around and die a little more each day, over and over again. The sun sets only to rise, panting. My chest heaved and my quads trembled and my soul stilled as I watched this day die, and thought of this.

But the sunset was so beautiful. Regardless of how temporal this life is, God deigned to give me--give us--this peaceful, marvelous tapestry on one evening out of the thousands, millions He has made. What a generous Giver He is, that as we struggle and as we lie burdened (esp. RAE this night), He showers us with loveliness, even little, seemingly meaningless glory in the heavens as the day ends. This is our toil, and this is yet our song.

Reb. Mary wrote today about how it's not OK, but that's OK, of the subtle temptation to think that doing certain God-pleasing acts (A) leads to certain outcomes (B). In her eloquent post, she writes:

When B does not follow, the cry of a [sinner's] heart should not be (or should not primarily be) for the Better Life: “Why, Lord? What am I doing wrong? Show me how to make it work!” Plead rather for the Better Hope: “Please, Lord. With this gift of your very life’s blood, pour into me the strength to continue pouring myself out. Enlarge my heart, that the life-giving transfusion may not be wasted through selfishly narrowed arteries. Teach me to live daily the difference of that cleansing flood, the difference between hard and hopeless, invisible to all but the eyes of faith. God grant me eyes of faith!” 

I can't see what is before me or our family. Heck, I could barely see the gravel on the shoulder as I pedaled weakly back up the hill into town. I don't know how everything important will get done. I have lots of sweating, and pedaling, and suffering ahead. This is the reality of life. But Christ makes visible what is invisible; He gives what we, the most impoverished, would starve without. I don't have to chase the sunset. He's already given it to me, and given me all the days that are before me, and given me the eternal dawn that waits for me and all believers.

S Birthday Flashback: Twice is Nice

When our S had a birthday at the end of April, we unintentionally ended up with two birthday sweets, one a chocolate cake left over from dinner out the day before (in truth, a freebie calorie-and-preservative-laden concoction from the Colonel. Hey, KFC is good for families with toddlers!) and one--or twelve--semi-homemade cupcakes, complete with sprinkles of many colors. Birthdays at the Olson homestead tend to be big excuses for dessert overload--what can I say?

As a result of the deux bon bons, we mostly P also ended up singing "Happy Birthday" twice to S, once for lunch dinner and once for dinner supper. Coincidentally, in the past few months, S has really taken to music and has sung the world's most well-known song innumerable times, including to his brother three times on his birthday and to me, today, as I tried to take a nap on the couch. There's just no holdin' 'em.

Anyway, on S's big day, doubles were especially appropriate, as the "big boy" turned two. Enjoy the serenades in his honor, particularly 1) how much P wants to "help" S with the candles, 2) how S grins as we sing 3) and valiantly tries to blow out the candles with intense "fffffffff"s, and 4) how he's wearing different shirts, which occurred due to a combo of cake and outside fun with the new tee ball set and garden digging tools (not used at the same time...I don't think). We love our "big" little guy!

Anticipation

We're T + one and two days, respectively, of the due dates of a dear friend and a sister. While the hours can seem long to us, hopefully waiting for a text or a call that "It's TIME!," these hours are much longer to the women who wait with fatigue and restlessness and ready-to-be-born infants in their swollen bellies. It's nice to think that willing birth to happen can actually, um, happen, but we've learned here in the Olson house that birth comes when God says. So we wait, and pray, and hope, and get giddy with excitement, to hear about the birth of two precious ones that will become God's children very soon after their earthly birth. And what anticipation must our Heavenly Father and the whole host of heaven wait for that second birth! So please keep Monica and Rachel and their families, especially their little ones, in your prayers, particularly that God would bring His wee children to the waters of Holy Baptism safely and healthily.

You can't see 'em, but there are angels dancing around the font!

Light and Tired

I've always loved summertime. I love the long, sunny days and the deliciously warm weather; I love that the sun moves so slowly and illuminates our garden and our porch and our home long into the evening. I love feeling really alive as we move and sweat and play in this time that rejuvenates us for the other learning-and-teaching-and-cold(er) times. But this summer, so far, I've struggled with loving the light and really wanting to crawl into a hole of complete and utter darkness so I can sleep.

One of the reasons is that the boys can't sleep when it's so light out. So their schedules have been wonky. Both have also started cutting back on naps in the afternoon, much to my chagrin. P doesn't sleep much at all then and S only needs an hour or so. Even with quiet time in place, it's just not the same for me as when they're unconsciously slumbering. So I get less rest during the day.

The bigger reason is that C's started moving, which means that she's growing and needier now than she was a few months ago. She needs more attention and she needs more food. The attention part is okay. After all, older siblings are great for that; plus, babies learning about the world around them are ir-re-sis-table. The harder part is the food part. I'm having trouble getting her to adapt to a sippy cup; I should have familiarized her with a bottle months ago and didn't do it. And I can't remember what I did with S, who didn't get a bottle until he was about six months old. I only remember that it wasn't much work to get him used to a bottle and then to formula. There's a reason why he's been called "the trash can" by certain relatives.

I've wanted to breastfeed all of our children for at least a year, but I've hit about the six-month-mark with all of them and hit energy and weight bottom: that is, my energy is suddenly, dramatically reduced and my weight bottoms out to the absolute lowest I am comfortable with. The weight thing looks like a perk to most people; I've been at my pre-pregnancy weight two weeks postpartum without doing anything but breastfeed and gradually lose another ten pounds for the next six months as I've breastfed the babes. I admit that this is a phenomenon that probably rankles most women in the United States who struggle to lose extra weight. My midwife has told me before that I'm one of the few patients she's ever had that she honestly tells to eat a big bowl of ice cream every night. I've tried this, and eating more protein, but it's difficult for me to eat when I don't feel hungry. It prolongs my ability to breastfeed but not enough to overcome my biological quirkiness, i.e. that while most people have a metabolism that runs like a lawn mower engine, mine runs like the generator on an aircraft carrier. Despite all the perks this brings, I can say that having an extremely high metabolism and controlled appetite has one downside, and that is that physically, my lightness as a milk maker can't sustain my children's growth. In other words, I don't have any extra reserves that can be converted to calories.

You can't see it, but the mom is drooling here. Because she's sitting down. Which means she's sleeping.

I think I'm finally coming to terms with this. I mean, I don't feel as guilty as I did with P that I'm not going to make it to C's first birthday exclusively breastfeeding her. I'm thankful that I've made it as long as I have and that C is healthy. And though formula makes me shudder--it looks and smells gross to me--millions, if not billions (myself included) lived off the stuff and weren't adversely affected.

So now we're in the pre-weaning phase, and I'm just tired all the time. This is different from the first weeks after baby. That's a "What's my name?" kind of fatigue, particularly with the first, that looks like a fog in retrospect. This is more of a "running the last third of a marathon" kind of fatigue, where you can't quite see the end and only know you just have to keep on going. This is more difficult for me to weather, in part because of the early morning tutoring thing (though I've thankfully had a break from this in the last six weeks) and in part because in the last month I've flown solo for about two weeks while Papa has been gone to various and sundry conventions and gatherings. I could complain about this, but that's just silly and not helpful. Plus, in a few months, this will all be as a dream because we'll be well into different phases with the kids. Ah, the blessings of short-term memory coupled with parenting.  

In the meantime, though, I pray that C begins to love the cup, takes to formula, and thus leaves me with a few six or seven-hour stretches of slumber without interruption. Luckily, we've still got quite a few long, sunshiney days left to us this year for me to savor, with or without sleep. We've still got hours and hours to play outside, to sweat and run, to swim and splash and soak in the rays. And most of all, we Olsons have been given all we need to support these bodies and lives. We have each other and we have Jesus, so despite the fatigue, we've got plentiful Light and life. What blessings! And just thinking about that gives me a boost of energy.

New Teeth

See 'em?! Aren't they cute?! And C of course, too. :)

For my first blog post in months (yes, that's with an "s"--yikes), I contemplated an array of topics.

Basement flooding and floor redo? No way. Too depressing and practical. Plus, it all got taken care of pretty quickly, thanks to Papa and insurance and Pipestone Interiors, so the entire post would have been just about as long as these sentences.

Graduations of friends and church members?  Better, but not quite right.

A 30th birthday college friend reunion at our house? Super duper with a cherry on top! But that's a post to come, so not quite yet.

S and P's birthdays (two and four, respectively)? Awesome, but now other events have crowded in. Those will come, too.


A log of the travel Papa has done without us and I have done without him and we have done together, including our most recent trip to see Papa's parents and grandpa and to throw my sister's bridal shower? Well, that's not all that interesting as a list. Maybe when I go through some of the pictures...

The head-injury-prone S, the feverish P, and the newly toothie C, all post-vacation. And they're still smiling!

I guess the truth is that I'm still figuring out what this blog is for. I mean, it's for us--for family and friends, for people near and far who want to keep up with our goings-on. But it's certainly not a play-by-play of what happens here every day. I can't, and frankly don't, want it to be that way. It's too much work and too guilt-inducing (as in I can always be thinking, "Oh, I should have blogged about that! And because I didn't, I've failed as a mother."). I think that way enough as it is about a thousand other things that happen (or don't) every day.

So this is more of a "I'll-blog-when-I-can" blog, a "when-I-think-of-something-worthwhile-to-say" blog, and most important, a "when-my-time-doing-it-isn't-outrageously-cutting-into-my-real-life" blog. And cutting here segues nice and beautifully into the "actual" blog topic here: new teeth. (And really, what can compete with a cute baby?)

I can't fully empathize with teething children, despite having gone through it myself. Frankly, the whole process looks, feels, and often sounds like a big mess. During our first leg of our official summer travels last week, as we sweated under one-hundred-plus temperatures with three kids just-barely-four and under through four states, C's first two teeth decided to make their appearance. This is an embarrassing Mom admission, but I didn't even notice that the first had broken through until a saleslady at a store pointed it out to my mother-in-law. Um, thanks, Eddie Bauer lady! You're obviously more plugged into details than I am.

After we marveled over that little white wonder, then the temperature spiked across mid-America and the floodgates of C's salivary glands went into overdrive. I've seen a lot of saliva in my time, but I personally think C broke records. She even put on a really impressive projectile show at a nicer-than-average eatery in Edwardsville, which is a first for any Olson kid. Luckily the recipient of most of her theatrics was me and the floor, both of which are washable (thank goodness!). And C felt a lot better after channeling her inner sicky-diva. Toughie that she is, she made it through the rest of the trip, and so did we, and now we'll all recover--extra teeth and all--in the next weeks before Mil and Chris's big wedding coming up at the end of the month. Too really overkill the metaphor here, every new transition requires a little bit of pain, right? Just hopefully not so much slobber.

Teething wears out a girl.