Nine years.

 

 

The sun is streaming through our windows.  Our house has been stirring for the past hour.  The kids are a buzz asking a flurry of questions, bright-eyed, unaware of what this day symbolizes for their father, and our family.  They know, they've been told, but they will need to be reminded.  Their innocence a blessing, lightening the heaviness that is in our hearts.

 

 

Nine years have passed. 

 

Yesterday, Jeff said something that has stuck with me through the night.  "There are times when it feels as though it happened just yesterday, but then I think about the fact that nine years have passed.  I am not the man that I was nine years ago.  I've had a zillion kids.  That is the painful part."  Yes, that is where our pain exists, in the reality that we are unable to share the beautiful moments we are experiencing in his absence.  While rocking our newest addition, his second nephew, the tears came.  Everett will never know the pleasure of hearing Uncle Brad's laughter, or witnessing the playful, witty banter that so effortlessly existed between his father and Uncle. 

 

I look at the above picture and agree, my husband is not the man he was nine years ago.  I ache for moments reflected in this picture, for the simple joy of watching them laugh together but know his influence is still upon my husband, and always will be. 

 

Brad would be so proud of the man he has become. 

 

Today we will gather as a family.  There will be burgers on the grill, there will be stories shared, there will be the noises of his nieces and nephews, there will be tears and there will be laughter.  We will remember, and we will continue to miss.  

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words - Daddy, wake up.



She's two.

 

The littlest lady rang in her second year of life with an early morning trip to Bloom bakery for donuts followed by a play date on the train tracks of Middleton with pals.  As I recall the morning in its sweet and simple perfection, I believe it represents our third born's personality and preferences well.  She is equal parts sugar and spice, observer and risk taker, craving the comfort of mom's arms and the freedom to explore. 

 

 

I see in her the desire to confidently embrace all things that come her way independently. She can often be found "mending" her own wounds, pulling chairs up to the sink to wash...anything, battling pant legs in an effort to dress herself, strapping on shoes and subsequently throwing them across the floor because they are "too tight" or "not working," taking any toothbrush she can find to brush her own teeth, standing at the refrigerator holding cups up to the water dispenser willing her cup to be refilled, running after her siblings determined to participate in any and every activity they are doing. 

 

 

I see in her a gal who loves to celebrate.  She is enthusiastic, boisterous, comical, and charming.  She loves an engaging conversation and becomes quite animated at the dinner table, working hard to add to the discussion, hands flapping, eyes bright.  She comes alive when music is played, preferring a beat that is loud and thumping.  She is quick to request favorite songs, shouting out her preferences from the back of the van, testing the limits of her five-point harness when a particular beat catches her fancy.  Her movements are rhythmic from the way she prances around on tiptoe to the way her tiny body sways when Led Zeppelin is played.

 

I cannot say that her being two is without its challenges, so many of her strengths right now testing my limits as a mother, her determination, tenacity, and constant activity keeping me humble.  She is a daily reminder that in my weakness, He is strong, that His mercies are new every morning. 

 

I'm so grateful for this little firecracker, bright and beautiful. May I always appreciate her colorful display.

 

"Colorful"
by Rocco Deluca

You swim like you're on fire
Live like your last day
Drink like it's water
There's no tomorrow
And you think no one can hear you
Raise your hands to be called on
You know all the answers

You're the most colorful thing that I've seen
You're the most colorful thing that I've seen
You're the most colorful thing that I've seen

You dance like no one's watching
Sing 'till the song ends
Then you sing some more
And we can hardly believe it
Words that flow from your mouth
Drink like it's water

You're the most colorful thing that I've seen
You're the most beautiful thing that I've seen
You're the most colorful thing that I've seen

You are an enigma walking
Make no excuses for the way that you carry on
And we can hardly believe it
The words that flow from your mouth
Drink like it's water, girl

You're the most colorful thing that I've seen
You're the most beautiful thing that I've seen

 



It's Been Awhile

 

 

I've been absent from the blog yet again.  So many of the choices we've made as a family have left little time for me to sit, reflect and type.  This is not necessarily a bad thing.  Yet, I miss the discipline of sitting down and recording all that's currently happening in our lives, because make no mistake things. are. happening. over. here.  With four littles, {yes, there are now four, but that will have to wait for a later post} I've been overwhelmed by the amount of change and growth that is occurring all around me each day.

 

I'm currently working my way through several inspiring reads, and I've realized the value in creating margin in my life to explore, practice, and enjoy those things that stimulate my mind and heart.  And, so I'm adding to my book pile, new books arriving via Amazon Prime each week, in spite of the fact that I just birthed our fourth child.  I'm pulling out cookbooks I received for Christmas for the simple pleasure of reading recipes, knowing full well that I may not be able to execute a Barefoot Contessa "foolproof" meal between the hectic hours of 4:00 and 6:00 pm right now, but there's always tomorrow... next week...next month.  I'm wrapping presents weeks in advance during the one quiet hour of my afternoon when I could be doing more "important" things simply because I enjoy wrapping presents and delight in giving gifts to loved ones.  I'm trying to gaze at our newborn a little longer, and admire our older three for the sake of cherishing their little souls even when I feel pulled in so many directions.  I'm learning that in an attempt to balance it all (?) I must be sure that I, myself, am living a balanced life. 

 

In an effort to blog more, I will focus less on how my words sound and more on the meaning behind them.  I will attempt to not get caught up in the language but rather allow my words to flow freely, so that the many significant and insignificant events of our lives are recorded because they ALL matter to me, and hopefully one day will mean something to our children. 

 

How sweet it is to once again hear the tap-tapping of the keys as I pour out my heart. 

 

Currently, the sun is out and its light is streaming through the open windows of our home.  Three of our four children are playing outdoors (unsupervised, but overheard) and our sweet babe is basking in the sunlight as he slumbers. 

 

We are entering a new season.  Spring has almost sprung and the Larsons are settling into life as a family of six. 

 

In my corner of the office:

 

 

 

 



A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words - Trio

Halloween: Episode 2014

I love a theme.  And, this year's choice of Halloween costumes was easy as our family has been committed to the idea of embracing both sides of the force since, oh about...mid-summer.  The real question was which Star Wars character the little man would decide to dress up as.  For months we listened on as he debated Darth, Luke, Obi-Wan...when at last he finally landed on Qui Gon Jinn.

 

 

 

Cast of characters:

 

The bump as the Death Star

Jeff as Obi Wan Kenobi

The littlest lady as Yoda

The little lady as Queen Amidala

and

The little man as Qui Gon Jinn





Tonsillectomy, frenulectomy, adenoidectomy...oh my!

Back in October, the little man underwent surgery to remove his adenoids, tonsils, and to clip his frenulum. Apparently, the size of both his adenoids and tonsils were beyond impressive.  While it is never easy to watch your little one prepped for surgery, I learned many things that early morning as we arrived at Meriter Hospital.

 

1. My little man, while sweet and tender is also very brave.  He quickly put on his game face answering questions, changing into dressing gowns, using the IPad to distract and calm while awaiting his surgery.



2. Scheduling surgery for your son at the very hospital where your husband is a surgeon makes the entire process much easier.  How sweet it was to see staff greet us as we followed Dr. Larson through the hallways.  My heart was simultaneously calmed and filled with pride as I thought of my husband greeting his own patients and interacting with staff each work day.  And, while he chose to be "dad" instead of "doctor" on the day of our son's surgery, his calming presence and professional demeanor encouraged this mama's tender heart as I watched him wheel our son back for surgery. 

 



 

3. Spending three hours post-op cuddling your son on a hospital gurney (after a successful surgery) is precious time well spent.  Strains the back, but warms the soul. 

 

4. How easy it is to take the health of your children for granted.  Many times throughout the morning, I thought of the many families who arrive at the hospital each day for other reasons. The day of Joey's surgery, I was grateful to walk out of the hospital with a smiling little boy in recovery, for the comfort of nursing him back to health in our own home, and the privilege of hearing his little voice change over the next few hours, days and weeks.