gift #17

Gift Number Seventeen: Ivar and I wearing our matching raincoats

gift #19

Gift Number Nineteen: A father-in-law who understands that I love fishing, I just can't touch the bait...or the fish.
Madison took Rory and I out on Saturday night and the fish seemed to like my leeches the best. It was an exciting hour out on the water and had me positioned in my favorite place during the summertime: in the front of a boat. (all fish were lovingly taken off of their hooks and placed back in the water to be with their fishy families.)

1,000 gifts

The list is started! Thank you so much for the supportive dialogue I've shared with many of you. It is helpful to know that others struggle with this online-comparison game too. And it's also grounding to remember that the grass will always be greener, but that my grass probably looks greener to someone else. The only way out of this vicious green-with-envy cycle is to recognize all of the gifts within my own life. And when I do that, my pasture becomes bright green. Feels like a breath of fresh air.

So I started writing my 1,000 gifts. I tried to overcomplicate the process at first. Wanted to go to Barnes and Nobel to pick out a nice new journal. Decided a better idea was to find an old notebook and modge podge the cover. Got the supplies out and realized that I do this a lot...get a good idea and then find ways to make the idea bigger and bigger until it's daunting.

So what did I end up with? Some good common sense (no modge podge, no new journal, no fancy pen) and an old purple spiral bound notebook.

I tend to get high on things quite easily. I should reword that since I've never done drugs... I am excitable and get excited about things easily...and this list is my new love. I'm super excited about it. So excited that I really think you've got to make your own list. You must. It is such a positive, eyes-wide-open, I'm-not-letting-my-sweet-life-go-unnoticed process. Rory has even joined in. I'll ask him if he has any gifts to add and then I write them right in the mix with an R next to them so one day we'll know who contributed what.

It's basically a journal list, a life-is-beautiful list, a God-you-are-so-good list. Focusing on all of the positive, good, lovely and so-small-you-might-miss-it-if-you're-not-paying-attention gifts we have been given.

Now go get yourself an old notebook.

blog envy.

I’ve been in a blog funk lately. Not really about my own blog. It’s more about other people’s perfect blogs. The ones with the well-lit pictures, the adorable children, the delightful and inspired crafts, the sweetly coordinated parties, the amazing cakes, the witty writing, and the writers who have a clear and consistent voice that seems to come effortlessly every time they write a new post.

A lot of the time I can read these blogs for what they: a person’s loving addition to their corner of the internet. Other times I read them and I am left feeling like I need to buy a big fancy lens for my camera and wake up before dawn and bake a loaf of bread to be photographed in the early morning sunlight.

This isn’t a poor me blog post. Actually, the opposite. I have never ever enjoyed a spring and start of summer more in my life. Ivar is at a perfect sitting-up-and-not-crawling-away age and we spend nearly every day outside hanging out as a family on a blanket in the back yard. Rory is working from home and the three of us are growing into a family unit. It is precious and wonderful.

However. When I put that sweet baby boy to sleep at night and finally end up plopped on the couch with my laptop for some me-time ready to enjoy the sights and sounds of my favorite blogs, I end up with poor-me time. Poor-me, I’m not at Disney world. Poor-me, no one sends me free items to review on my blog. Poor-me, I have no fashion sense. Poor-me, I have no original art to be sold in cute boutiques across america.

Well, it’s ridiculous. And absurd. And offensive, I believe. Offensive to a really quality life that is somehow feeling belittled by the perfection that is projected out there. And the very worst part? I know I’m part of it. I make pretty cakes too. And my son has yet to take a bad photo.

Maybe it’s all my extra hormones I am carrying around because this feeling is fairly new. I used to read blogs with a very healthy sense of self, enjoy them for what they are worth and click on my way to enjoy my own day. But now I read them with a sort of Eyore undertone. Bleh. It’s no good. It’s not healthy.

I thought about taking a summer vacation entirely from blogging. Even wrote the post to announce that I’d be back in September. But then I got a phone call from Hildur’s sister, Lois. Lois is a new reader, just started reading the blog after Hildur’s funeral and after talking to her on the phone I’m pretty sure she has read my whole blog. Words cannot express how honored I am! Lois told me that she reorganized her fridge after reading my post on my food organization and that her husband of many years loves the new system because the produce isn’t going bad anymore and he knows right where to find the leftovers. Knowing that Lois is reading, enjoying what she is reading and actually taking some of these ideas to heart makes me want to keep it up.

I also want to keep blogging because this is the very best way I have found to write the stories that go with the pictures of my life as it is happening. This blog is ultimately for Ivar and the kiddos to come and I want to keep up the discipline.

So I have a new game plan for the summer. In perfect timing, I am right in the middle of reading a book my mom gave me for Mother’s Day. You’ve probably heard about it and I’ll write much more about it very soon. It is called One Thousand Gifts and focuses on gratitude in a way that makes every page feel like a little mini-vacation. It’s got me breathing deeper and climbing into bed earlier just so I can return to the happy tropical island that awaits me in her writing.

The book has me thinking and has me looking at my life with fresh eyes again. And it has given me a whole new blogging direction for the summer ahead. I am going to make my own list of One Thousand Gifts. I am going to stop wishing and wanting and start savoring and appreciating.

And I’ll do it one gratitude at a time.

If you want to join in this quest for contentment and a grateful heart pick up your pen and join in! Life is too good and rich and full of blessings to sit back and wish, want and wonder. It’s time to recognize, name and appreciate all that God has given to us!

summer blogging

I think it's hardest to blog in the summer. Probably because so little of life is spent indoors. So in case I am missing for stretches of time, I wanted to just give you a heads up: all is well, I'm just letting myself off the hook a bit to soak up the sun.

did I ever tell you about the time...

When Rory and I were first married we were taking a walk down to the creek when we found a sign stapled to a light post. The sign had been lovingly made with kid handwriting explaining that the family cat, Mr. Pickles, had gone missing. He was grey and had white paws.

That night, Rory was driving one block up the street from our house when low and behold out steps Mr. Pickles. It was him! Rory got out of the car, scooped up Mr. Pickles, put him in the backseat, and called me to tell me the good news. I ran to the street light and got the phone number.

Rory pulled up in front of the house. We were overjoyed. We had seen the sign, talked about how sad it was, but never in our wildest dreams did we ever think that we might be the ones to find this sweet kid’s cat!

I dialed the number and a little squeaky voice answered. I explained, “Hi! We saw your sign for Mr. Pickles and we found him. My husband just found him up the street!” The boy was a bit delayed and then replied in his falsetto voice, “No.” He paused and then his voice got higher and a bit confused, “No, we found Mr. Pickles.”

I hung up the phone and announced that Mr. Pickles had already been found.

Rory slowly drove the car up a block and let the grey cat with the white paws out the back door.

the perfect bib

Since Ivar was born I have wanted to put together a post of my very favorite baby items. Two friends requested that I do a post on my mama must-haves and I still hope to do this sometime. But until then, just know that this bib tops the list. I adore the over the head towel-into-bib clothing cover.

My bff Heidi's mom, Bonnie, gave me the first bib. She embroidered the train and Ivar's name. I love this bib because compared to the other small bibs we have, this thing actually covers my son. And because it's over the head, he can't pull it off. Plus, when he's done eating there is still plenty of bib to wipe his face off. Handy McDandy.

I wrote to Heidi telling her to pass on to her mom that this bib rocks my world and that I try to wash it every night so I have it ready for the next day. And guess what? Three days later I got a package in the mail from Bonnie with two more bibs, personalized for Ivar. With those bibs was a letter basically thanking me for giving her something to work on since she had torn her acl in her knee and was stuck in the house. Thanking me for giving her something to do by making me more bibs! Ha!

And then last week Heidi came for an overnight and brought two more bibs for Ivar, made with love from Bonnie. I don't know where you get these bibs if you don't have a Bonnie in your life, but truly, they are my favorite baby item so far.

dada dada dada dada

Pretty sure I have never seen you so happy. This little boy loves you with his whole heart and is so blessed to have you as his dad. Happy Father's Day, Rory!

the umbrella stroller

I recently wrote about how I spent my grandma's christmas money on a braun hand blender when I was in middle school. It was a smart purchase as I still use that kitchen gadget today. Turns out, I was pretty brilliant in choosing my gifts from grandma and seem to have kept the future in mind. Because when I was in 5th grade a picked out this umbrella stroller with my grandma and grandpa's christmas money and used to wheel my dolls around in it. Now, 20 years later, I am wheeling my baby around. Talk about bang for your buck!

special toast

My mom was over on Tuesday and Wednesday helping take care of me. We knew I was getting better when I asked her to make me Special Toast. It's the staple on-the-mend food in my family: cinnamon and sugar toast cut into strips. It's the cutting into strips that makes it Special Toast. Otherwise it would just be cinnamon toast. It is unbelievably good when your tummy is completely empty and your appetite begins to come back.

Thanks so much for all of the well wishes and kind emails and phone calls. Yesterday turned into a lovely day of reconnecting and telling everyone all about the crystals that are floating around in my ears. (That's what causes vertigo...isn't that so wierd?!!) I turned a corner early in the evening yesterday and today I'm seeing the world right side up again.

vertigo

I’ve been out of commission the past few days with vertigo.

My eyes couldn’t make sense of what I was seeing. All four walls were spinning around, the ceiling and floor were swinging into each other and the windows, art, closet, tv and furniture were whipping around in the midst of it all. Everything seemed to move far away and then zoom up close and all the while my eyes were trying to connect the pictures back to the walls, attach the lights back on the ceiling and place the shoes back on the floor. But nothing would stick.

It felt like eight nightmarish hours of being stuck on some sickening ride at a crappy midway.

Rory took me to urgent care after hours of throwing up and hoping for the symptoms to lessen. I kept my eyes shut most of the time, but opened them while crossing over highway 62 and all cars I saw looked like they were swinging far, far away and then slingshot back in my face.

When we got to urgent care, Rory ran in to get me a wheel chair. He came out with a wheel chair that would easily fit three of me, making every doorway was nearly impossible to clear. In some comedic twist, I sat in the chair miserable, dry heaving and spinning uncontrollably, while Rory banged multiple times on multiple doorways trying to get my wide self to clear the frame.

I spent the last 48 hours doing special exercises in an attempt to get all the parts of my inner ear back in order. I still don’t walk around without having furniture close by to hold on to and thanks to my mom and Rory, Ivar is being well cared for.

All this to say. Ish. I hope this is a one-time bout with vertigo and would wish this upon no one. Ish, ish, ish.

image source: here

garden sticks

I found this idea in a Martha magazine. Our markers in the garden are lilac branches that are peeled just a bit with a vegetable peeler in order to make a flat surface to write what has been planted where. We're excited for this project to come full circle when we can use that same vegetable peeler to peel our carrots!

the happiest news to share

Svea and Ivar are going to get to hang out a whole lot more in the very near future. It makes me so happy I could cry. When we first heard the news I literally did a happy dance...spooked the baby, full body in motion, singing "They're coming home to Minnesota! Home to Minnesota!"

That's right: my sister Annika and her family are moving from Montana to Minnesota. You can read all about it on her blog. I know it will be sad to leave Montana, but let it be known I could not be anymore excited, thrilled and happy about this change of scenery for the Larson Family! And for these babies to grow up together!

a bit of my character revealed

We had new friends over recently for supper and as we were cleaning up she commented, "you're an organized person, aren't you." And I replied that you have to be in a small house but that yes, I love organization and especially eliminating clutter and that I get a high from taking loads to good will. She listened to my little monologue politely and then said, "because I've never seen anyone label their refrigerator shelves before."

I don't think I would have ever thought this odd until she verbally made her observation. And as we looked in my fridge together, gazing at the dairy on the top shelf, meat and bread on the second shelf, produce on the third, and the drinks and eggs on the bottom shelf, I realized that this probably is a very unique part of who I am.

But I've got to tell you. It is really handy. And I'll give you an extra insight. The bottom drawer is filled with water bottles and gardening seeds. And the crisper drawer is filled with our leftovers. Because I have found that drawers in a fridge are dangerous. They are like two black holes of wasted space to me. I have had too many things go bad in a fridge drawer only to find a smell before the food and always feel disappointed thinking I forgot I even bought asparagus. But Rory and I know to dig for left overs. So it works for us.

So...all of you out there. Anyone else label the shelves in your refrigerator?

Ivar's great, great aunt Stella

Ivar got to meet a new relative this week. It was a six hour drive there and a six hour drive back and he was wonderful in the car both ways. The relative was my great Aunt Stella. I wrote about her and the love of her life, great Uncle Ellis in this post.

Stella is 93 and still lives on her own in her home. She gets all of her meals from meals on wheels and on Memorial Day left her house for the first time in 8 months. We called her on Tuesday to tell her we would be there on Friday and when we arrived she had planned quite the gathering. All sorts of relatives came for lunch as she had made reservations for us to eat at the local dinner.

She banged her knife on her glass anytime she wanted to make an announcement. Which was often...and entertaining :) It was good to be with family.