My thoughts on a Sunday afternoon...with random pictures thrown in.

I love Sundays. Time to unwind and relax from the hussle and bussle of the week. We go to church at 9am and home by noon, we have the afternoon to fill with activities different from the rest of the week. Today was different at church. For the past 4+ years, our ward has been the magnet ward for those that mainly speak Spanish. Today, was the first day of their new dependant branch.

They are still dependant on our ward for Primary and the youth programs, but they have their own Sacrament meeting and adult classes. This means no more whispering from translating, no more singing only Hymns in the Spanish songbook, no more of the Bishopric asking the speakers to slow down for the translator. It has been a challenge at times, but I was blessed by the lives of those that shared with me. Some of their stories are heartbreaking, what they sacrifice to live in the US, at the expense of being far from their loved ones in Mexico. The language and cultural barrier was difficult for both parties, but we kept trying to reach one another. Often times a smile was my only form of communication, but I could tell it meant something on the receiving end. Our home teacher spoke primarily Spanish, and I watched him struggle through his lesson, having his 14 year old son translate for us. His wife served in the Primary presidency with me about 2 years ago, and she became someone I truly came to love. As I encouraged her to speak English with me, she told me of her unique struggles, yet I saw her perseverance despite them. A new chapter for us that comes with mixed emotions.

I had a discussion last night with a few "seasoned mothers" about such things as: at what age can my oldest stay home to babysit the younger kids, at what age can they walk down the street alone to the park. It seemed both of those answers were generally 10 or 11 (Texas has no laws about the age, but when the parents decide they are mature enough). I was telling them about discussions Michael and I have had about instilling independance in our children and that Michael thinks Tyler is old enough now, to ride his bike to the park alone, and that Matthew would be just fine accompanying him. This based on a book he is reading (a post to come on that at some point) and we have discussed. To that, one friend half rolled her eyes and said, "he's a man." This led to discussion from each of them about playing with the neighborhood kids and that they travel in "packs" and that they felt safer knowing their kids were with other kids, too. I came home sad that I don't have that with my kids. There are no other boys on our street that play outside in the afternoon. Thankfully, my boys have each other. Alyssa has the little girl across the street that we often hang out with in the afternoon. Occasionally we will arrange play dates with friends that live driving distance, but I left wondering if they are missing out on an important part of childhood not having that.

How can I help that? It's just where we happen to live. With that said, I had a dream last night about our ideal home situation. As we think about sometime in the next year or two moving to a different home, I like to envision my idea of perfection. I know I won't have it, but I mentally list my priorities in a new home. Bigger yard, on dead end cul de sac, 4 bedroom one story home with a 2nd story just game room, more kitchen cupboards, large walk in pantry, preferably in the same area as our current elementary school and ward, (but I might be willing to bend on the neighboring school), and lots of good happy children and families around us. That isn't asking too much, is it? My ideals seem quite simple. I had a dream last night, and our future home had all of that. Does that mean it will come true? Probably not, but I'll keep that dream alive.

My little Cali has just graduated from her newborn clothing, right as she turned 6 weeks old on Friday. She lasted in it the longest, being my smallest child at birth. Her face has filled out quite nicely, and even her former scrawny legs (her dad said it, not me) are getting rolly.


Though her nightime sleep has much to be desired, I'm anxiously awaiting her to look into my eyes (they are still wandering) and smile directly at me. I thought it happened sooner than this. I can't quite remember when it happened with my older children. I'm sad that her "littleness" is escaping my grasp, but so excited for what is to come. Her siblings will fight over holding her, as if they are "calling" the front seat in the car. Tyler being the only one given permission to walk with her, he does a good job of pacing the hallway to rock her to sleep. He finds joy in his ability to calm her, and that melts my heart.

All 3 of them have sung to her in unison, which will calm her when she is fussy (as they are doing above). She inevitably screams when I change her diaper and Alyssa likes to get right next to her ear and yell a song, which I think possibly bugs her more than the discomfort of the cold air on her bum. But it is the love for her sad sister that brings me joy, even though I'll usually ask her to stop part way through because its even too much for me to tolerate.

The boys have 3 days left of school, then out for the summer. I'm so excited for the summer, and having them home. These 3 days will be packed with parties and farewells, but will be fun. Then we have family coming into town this weekend for the blessing of Cali on the 7th. Our June will be full, and then July comes--my birthday. My 29th year came with much sorrow on my part. Mostly inner sorrow that I tried not to show everyone. Sadness for myself at the loss of friendship that once was, and a year that brought much pain to a few friends of mine--bringing me to tears and pouring my heart out in prayer for them. Then I turned 30 and things seemed to get better. Though turning 30 stunk in and of itself, it has been a great year! I've had setbacks, and sadness still exists, it seems I've become better equiped to handle it. I'll turn 31 in just over a month.