I have become quite fond of one of my evening routines.  It’s a routine familiar to all mothers.  It is the task at the end of the day that entails walking around the house replacing all items back in their proper location.  I use this time to wind down after all the kids are in bed.  Sometimes I do it quickly, anxious to spend my time on other things, but other times I stick headphones in my ears and listen to podcasts or music on my iPod whilst I meander around at a more mellow pace. 

More children means more mess and the routine continually gets more complicated.  Sippy in the sink, burp cloth in the laundry, books on the shelf, shoes in the closet, etc.  Inevitably I come across some random household item in some random place and I try to envision who was playing with it and why.  But since the imaginations of my children far out reach the scope of my own imagination it is usually futile.  One time Cameron and Eli were using socks as “orcas”.  Where they learned about orcas I can’t be sure.  In any case, finding these obscure “toys” serves as a reminder to me to be more involved in the daily adventures of my little boys. 

Last night Richard was at a church meeting and the kids were all tucked in so I opted for the slow pace, with music.  I have a real “pump-me-up” type playlist I use when the house is especially messy and I am searching deep for energy.  I was just finishing up and turning off lights when I decided to feed Miriam before I tucked myself in.  She had gone to bed unusually early so it had been awhile since she last ate, and so sometimes I do what I’ve heard called a “dream feed”.  I leave the lights off and try to feed her without actually waking her up.

For some reason I can not explain, Debussy’s Clair de Lune was oddly included in my housecleaning playlist.  As I sat in the rocking chair of Mira’s room, feeding my sweet baby in the stillness and darkness of the house, it began.  At first I was perplexed by the piano’s subtle notes, shockingly out of the “pump-it-up” context, but then my mind embraced it’s serene melody. 

Then for the next five minutes and thirteen seconds I experienced the most peaceful moment I have experienced in a really long time.  I can not explain the exquisiteness of those few minutes.  It was the kind of event that I probably could not dupilicate if I tried.  I will just have to tuck it away in my memory and think of it each time I hear that song. 

It was certainly a testament to me of the power of music. 

So I am off to iTunes to download Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring, another favorite of mine, that along with Clair De Lune are meaningful to me because not only are they beautiful, but I have fond memories of my sister playing them on the piano in the home of my childhood.

What a game.

I went into last night’s match-up with my hopes in favor of Duke, for two reasons.  The first reason being that I had chosen Duke to win it all when filling out my ESPN Challenge bracket.  My family had a friendly little competition going and if Duke won, I won.  I chose Duke on behalf of my younger brother (a loyal fan) who returns in a few months from his mission in Greece.  The men in my life (husband, father, brother) tell me that an upset always trumps the bracket, but I hadn’t internalized this yet and therefore I was rooting on behalf of DUKE.

The second reason I was cheering for the blue devils was for the sake of a competitive dynamic at our house.  Richard, and therefore the boys, were all rooting for Butler. 

But it didn’t take long for Gordon Hayward to steal my heart with his academic achievements, his spot-on free throws and his twin sister.  That twin sister whose heart, in probably only the way a twin’s can, seemed to be down there on the court with her brother. 

My heart broke when the basketball bounced off the rim, not once but twice for Gordy- as we affectionately called him- in those final seconds.  Game over.  Hopes dashed. 

So I won my family’s bracket challenge, but what gives? Now I understand the rule of the upset.  I’m thrilled  for Duke, and wish Elder Hall could have seen it.  But I am thrilled for Butler too, making it as far as they did, defying all of our expectations. 

What a game. 

A friend of mine who is a Lutheran minister posted on her Facebook status that she was getting baptized into the LDS church on Sunday.  It was, of course, a Fool’s day joke but at 9:00 in the morning she had shocked many of her friends.  I was fooled too, for moment. 

Then when I reazlied what day it was I wanted in on the action.

So I told my FB network that Richard’s job was taking us on an international rotation to New Zealand.  I thought my plan was genius.  All my friends would weep and profess their heartbreak over my news.  My “wall” would be littered with sorrowful good-byes.

I’m pathetic.  I know.

My plan backfired.  People were excited for me.  Can you believe that?

Around 10:30 a couple of my friends caught on and called me out. 

So I deleted their comments, not wanting the game to end. Still holding out for someone to say they would miss me.

By noon my gig was up.  People were realizing what day it was and I was exposed. 

Inevitably I started to feel guilty.  Now I had disappointed all these people who thought I was actually going to do something exciting in my life.

April Fool’s day is not conducive to personalities like mine. 

From now on I will stick to celebrating my oldest child’s birthday on the first of April. 

**Speaking of which, the party was a huge success.  Thanks for all the tips.

You are a sweet boy. You are a conversationalist. You are engaging. You are a little bit bossy but you can be a great helper. You are sensitive. You have a great memory. You are great at coloring in the lines. You are social.

You love attention.

Sometimes your little heart is so full of love and excitement it seems to shoot out your eyes and smile like sunbeams.

When I asked you what you wanted for dinner on your birthday you said “exparagus” and chicken. It reminded me of your birthday when you turned three and I tried to make you chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast. You didn’t want them, you just wanted your regular oatmeal.

You are a creature of habit, just like your dad. You love routines because you always want to be ready for what’s next.

We love you buddy!

**Thank you to a thoughtful nursery teacher for the balloons. 

I have never blogged as if I were speaking to my child.  I see that on blogs quite a bit, but I didn’t think it was my style.  But for the sake of variety I’ll give it a go. 

To ELI:  On your third birthday

Your dad and I noticed the other day how sensitive your senses are to the world around you. 

Your big brown eyes are so sensitive to the bright sun.  You wear your sunglasses all the time.

Your often cover your little ears to protect them from loud noises, and you especially hate when the wind blows and makes your eardrum quiver. 

Your adorable little nose does not spare you from the farm-ish smells of Kuna and you don’t spare us from your complaints about it.

Your small hands love the sensation of bubbly soap and warm water and you would wash and wash them forever.

Your refined palate has zero tolerance for tastes and textures it does not approve of, resulting in your stubborn refusal to swallow these foods until they drip out of your mouth or you spit them into a napkin. 

These are the things we remember when we look back on this last year of your life.  We love these things about you.

We love you Eli Pie.