So I've figured out my writing funk of the past nine months.
Read on if you're interested in the deep thoughts of someone 38.6 weeks pregnant. (Feel free to skip to the picture...my brain feels very disjointed tonight, so I'm about to ramble.)
I learned long ago that I am chatty when I'm happy, quiet when I'm not. My sister is the same way. You can tell how happy we are simply by how much we're saying. (For the record, Sarah is happy more often than I am.)
Several people have commented on how they like to read my blog because it's always positive.
My life is not always chipper (I'm a mom!), but I typically only write blog posts when I'm feeling chatty,
which is when I'm feeling happy.
Being pregnant with two other young children who depend on me is wonderful, but also very draining.
By the time the kids are in bed (when I'd usually write blog posts), I'm way too tired to be chatty.
And so I don't write.
Long story short, this blog needs some added pizzaz.
Here begins my Sunday Snapshots series.
On Sundays, I'll be sharing a picture from my past, and what it makes me think of:
I was eight. (nine?)
Our summers, springs, and falls were spent outside, playing, digging, exploring, creating, running. Sidewalk chalk, swingset, sandbox, mud pies, finding bugs, melted popsicles, picnics on the grass.
Gotta love how my brother is rocking those hot pink swim shorts. His lanky body reminds me of Nicholas right now.
And my sister looks a lot like Ellie to me.
I love seeing the tablecloth my mom set up on the folding table for our picnic--because it's something I would do, and I like thinking that I'm becoming more and more like her.
The flowers in the front of the house make me happy too. My parents rented that little house (I think it was like 600-700 square feet?) for seven years.
The windows let in frost in the winter and didn't open for ventilation in the summer. We had mice, holes in the foundation, wasps nests in the walls, and a water heater that needed it's pilot light re-lit nearly daily. One tiny bathroom, tired flooring, brown striped wallpaper. It was an old, run down, worn out house with a landlord who kept raising the rent.
But as a child, I didn't notice any of that.
(Except the wasps...I do remember my brother getting stung once when he jumped on the couch.)
My parents worked so very hard to make it a happy, clean, safe home for us, and to provide for us with what little they had.
My dad took great pride and care in keeping the yard neat and clean, and my mom worked endlessly in her gardens, growing food and flowers.
Growing up there, all I knew was love, safety, and happiness in those tiny walls.
The faded red slat fence around our neighbor's backyard has a big presence in my memory. Vines from their garden would often grow through the fence and we'd find a pumpkin on our side in the fall. They also grew chives and I loved to pick them, just to smell the broken stems.
Alongside our house were two big lilac bushes. They were beautiful in the spring, heavy with periwinkle blooms.
Our house was just two blocks away from Utah's theme park, Lagoon. They used to have a little mini zoo there too, and every night in the summer we could hear the screams of people on the roller coasters, the booming voices of the contest announcers, and then, after the park closed, as I'd lay in bed I could hear the roars of the lions late into the night.
I didn't realize how unusual it was to fall asleep to the sound of lions. I was too busy planning the next day of sprinkler-running, picnicking, and pretending to find fairies living behind the lilac leaves.