This year was a big one for you, Brooklynn. We moved from Santa Rosa to Windsor, where you immediately found a half a dozen close friends. It worried me, switching home study programs (you attended once a week) just a few weeks into the school year but you transitioned without even a small hiccup. I am always impressed with your ability to make friends quickly.

With Annabelle joining us you have taken on the role of super sister, and again, you have adjusted beautifully. You know what the baby needs, what she can and can't have, where everything is located, and you are always keeping an eye on her so she's safe. You sit next to her in our little 2007 VW passat wagon and are always keeping her happy as we drive. You've developed into a mini mother and just gush with your love for her. Often you'll exclaim "oh mom she's just ADORABLE!" and I look at the both of you and think exactly the same thing.

Blake would do just about anything for you. I hear you in the other room, dictating your play (doggies is the latest favorite). He is always the daddy or brother and you are always the mom. The other day you asked in total seriousness WHY we can't just marry our brothers because then we could be in the same house forever.

Your mind is always brilliant and always surprising me with it's recollection. The other day I cooked a meal I hadn't made in years and you told me exactly where we were living when we ate it last, and somehow remembered that I had also burnt it that night. (hahaha).

You started 3rd grade this year and we've decided not to have you do a home study program, but to go at our own pace and spend time where we want. I have really loved this year. To watch you learn is addicting. We spend a solid 2 - 2 1/2 hours a day on violin, with several hours in between on grammar, math, writing, typing, science, and history/geography. We spend a half hour reading the scriptures together at lunch and learning the stories and then putting them up on a timeline that wraps around the entire kitchen. You are so hungry to learn, your favorite thing to do is watch the Discovery Channel. You just finished a two hour documentary on the Great Pyramid of Egypt and you sat transfixed though the entire thing.

Traditions are a big thing for you, even the weekly routines are just so important. On Sundays you insist on coming home, having a nice big dinner with fancy everything, and then watching the Bible Shows on TV. Your light is just amazing. You're such a leader and such a happy beautiful personality, I can't even begin to imagine life without you.

Thank you for coming to our home. Thank you for being willing to come as my daughter. It's obvious that I needed you to grow and learn from, and that you'd be strong enough to withstand my faults as I did so.

I love you so much,
Mom

Annabelle Jane's birth story

On January 25th, 2015 we welcomed our little number three to our family. Here's the story, it's my favorite so far.

I woke up at 3:00 in the morning with contractions. I had started spotting, and felt like these contractions were real enough that I should probably prepare. I got up, turned on the softest lights, and folded laundry and did dishes until the house was ready for me to leave. The contractions were every ten to fifteen minutes and were about 30 seconds long. Brent woke up at 6:00, and asked if he should go to his Stake meetings or stay home. I told him to stay, which then resulted in the entire stake knowing I was in labor. I was certain we'd have a baby by noon because my labors have been so fast.

But ironically after contractions all morning, by lunch they had all but stopped. Although that morning they were every ten minutes, they slowed to 30 minutes apart, and then 60 minutes. Now the kids were awake, and the house had reverted back into it's usual display of chaos and mess. All my work, and the early morning cleaning frenzy, seemed to have been for nothing except to drain me of any extra energy. I laid down for a nap, and when I woke up I was revitalized with the idea of finally being done with pregnancy. I decided I would do whatever I needed to to move it forward. I started walking quickly on the treadmill every half hour. I did lunges to the mailbox and back (thank you Laura for the idea), and I cleaned the house: bend, pick up, put away, repeat. This lasted for a few hours and by 1:00 I decided you can't change nature and all but gave up.

We put Blake down for his nap, I walked outside and watched Brent hit some golf balls, and then went inside for a drink of water. And then BOOM. The strongest contraction yet stopped me in my tracks. I couldn't walk. I couldn't breathe. I just sank into it. And then I heard a pop, and out gushed my water. This had never happened before. In my other two births my water broke just seconds before the baby was out, so naturally sheer panic struck me as I was standing there in my living room. I yelled to Brent and he kicked into gear.

He ran across the street and literally grabbed the neighbor girl and dragged her over to sit with Brooklynn until our childcare could arrive. While he was away, Brooklynn had a rare moment of total calm. She came up to me with the softest demeanor, looked right into my eyes, and said "Be strong mom. I love you." and gave me a very gentle hug.

We grabbed my bag, jumped into the car, and raced to the hospital 10 minutes away. As we were driving he was calling my midwife, leaving her messages that we were on our way . . . calling labor and delivery and telling them we were coming . . . calling my doula and telling her to meet us there.

When we arrived I told Brent (stupidly) to park in the parking lot because I could use the walk to the door. What was I thinking? I think I was just delaying the hospital experience as long as I could. We got out of the car and I entered phase II. Phase I in my book is excitement to meet the baby and feelings of euphoria that today is the day. Phase II I always spin into uncontrollable sobbing. It's not the pain, it's an emotional release that I seem to need each time. I cry and cry and cry and cry and cry. And I imagine what is in front of me and I cry some more. But the crying really does feel good, in a weird way. I slowly stepped, one foot after the other, crying the whole way, through the parking lot. I was a lot further along than I thought, and the walk - the walk was not a good idea.

I made it to the hospital doors at 2:00 only to feel like I couldn't go a step further. I leaned against the outside brick, and just cried and cried as the patients and doctors came in and out. Then finally to the elevator, where a couple looked on in complete surprise as I held on to the railing and breathed our way up to the 3rd floor. Except the couple had to get off on 2 and the woman was furious at her husband for not letting us go first, which I thought was really funny.

When we got to the security guard in Labor and Delivery she took one look at me and said "oh we don't have time to check you in dear, come with me" and ushered us quickly through the locked doors. As the nurses got the room ready another contraction hit and my doula appeared. I knew in this moment there was no way I was going to make it to the room. I had reached that place where my body wasn't going to be moving, it needed to focus on the task at hand. My mind raced through options. Brent carry me? no, please no, don't touch me. Wheel chair. Sit? Absolutely not. I resigned to the fact that legs were my best option. The contraction stopped and I slowly breathed as we made our way to the room. I was sweating bullets, and felt like I was holding baby in with every step. I told them on the next contraction I was going to need to push.

So imagine my surprise when the midwife checked me to reveal I was a FIVE.
A FIVE.
I've done this twice before. I've never felt that far along and not BEEN that far along. Everything in me deflated. I've never gotten to a hospital before I was at least a seven. So much longer to go. So far until the end. I just couldn't believe it and the tears started again.

With every contraction I breathed. I breathed down and out and down and out and imagined my breath taking baby down. I talked to her. I told her we could do this. Just come on down. I closed my eyes. I held Brent's hand. I focused. The nurses talked in quiet, peaceful tones. They asked if they could do more or less, and what would be helpful. They directed every question to Brent and left me alone to focus.

And then I reached the point of no return. I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to do this. I begged for the epidural. They told me it wasn't an option - we were too far along. I wanted to tear their eyes out.

The nurse said she would be back soon to check on me, and before she could get out of the room I said "I'm crowning". She said "I'm not sure you are", and I said "I'M CROWNING". She raced to get the midwife, and everything in my world disappeared into one single thought. Brooklynn. Brooklynn standing there with that innocent expression of faith. Faith that I was strong.
"Be strong Mom."
It repeated over and over and over in my mind. I whispered it. I chanted it. I hung desperately onto it.
"I am strong. I am strong."
I was vaguely aware that others in the room were reciting it with me. "You are strong. You are strong." It became a slow and consistent pulse through the room. Strength, being grasped, torn from the air, clung to, and displayed, like a tangible electric current. The last few moments were dictated by the midwife, who said calmly "okay Melissa, on this next push we need to get baby out." (little did I know that she wasn't turning, and her shoulders were not coming, heart rate dropping). She said "I know your body may say stop but you have to keep pushing until I say. Here we go. 1.2.3. push." Annabelle Jane was born to me roaring in strength. Then finally, relief. I crumbled into the bed and reached for my baby. I was the first one to cradle her and I didn't let go for an hour. I kissed her wet hair and the two of us, her and I, we cried together. Brent waited until the umbilical chord stopped pulsing and then cut it.

She came at 2:25 PM, twenty-five minutes after we got to the hospital. She weighed 9 pounds 1 ounce, at 21 inches long. My birth team was amazing. After the fact I learned that all the nurses there had done natural births themselves. My midwife never made it (keeping up the tradition), but the midwife on call was wonderful. They checked all her vitals while she was skin to skin and never asked to take her from me. Later they sponged her off in my room, with me right there. After about an hour Brent went and picked up the kids so they could meet their sister and all the nurses were happy to have them come. The next day I checked out before I had been there 24 hours. Not once did they ask about an epidural, not once did they talk about pain, and I was in and out with total support. Best birth experience ever.

I felt so filled with light. Annabelle, coming from the preexistence, was met inside my mind by her older sister Brooklynn, and I was somewhere in the middle being carried. It took three times, but this experience wasn't one I would trade for anything. I am so grateful to have had an experience surrounded by supportive people. Annabelle Jane, your birth is one I'll treasure. Welcome to our family.

Thanksgiving Tree 2014

Car seats -Blake
Family -Mom
Colorful leaves -Brooklynn
Two cars -Mom
Music -Blake
Music & Dasine (dancing) -Brooklynn
Loud, beautiful children -Dad
Blake! -Brooklynn
A backyard -mom
The Earth that we live on -Brooklynn
Our food -Brooklynn
cupcakes -Dad
Airplanes -Blake
Juice -Blake
That Blake can talk so we can understand him -Brooklynn
Trucks -Blake
The Library -Mom
Brent's new job -Mom
Heavenly Father's animals -Brooklynn
Beautiful weather -mom
butterflies, dragonflies, lady bugs, and bees and plants -Brooklynn
A job -dad
flowers -Brooklynn
Happy girls -Dad
Linda -mom
Dad -mom
Food -Blake
My mom and dad -Brooklynn
Being a mom -Mom
Prayers. Because it can help you find stuff. -Brooklynn
Mom, dad, and Blake -Brooklynn
Eyes -Blake

SIX!

Brooklynn, I can't believe you're six. In so many ways I feel like we're equals. You inspire me with your ability to do the hardest things, you keep me tender by reminding me what is most important (quite literally), you help me learn by asking me 100 questions a day about things I haven't stopped to consider. We are always online, looking up your questions and watching videos and learning. Yesterday we researched why some leaves are fuzzy, and others are smooth, something I've gone my whole life not ever wondering. Turns out the answer is an amazing lesson on adaptation, climate, and plant anatomy! You notice details and don't ever let them just slip away, you wonder, and think, and come back to them all the time with that amazing brain of yours.

Your go-to phrase right now is "I have a hypothesis!" and then you'll rattle off something you've been considering and questioning inside until an explanation has formed and you're ready to declare it to the world. You have a profound ability to connect the newest things you've learned together in coherent patterns. As we add to your spelling list, you'll shout with joy as you find those words in the books you're reading. You'll point out to me homophones, sometimes dozens each day, and often in places that even have me thinking. Yesterday as we were doing your school work I said "okay, number two" and you immediately responded "Two is a homophone mom! Like you're going to somewhere, and two, number two!". Which, simply put, is brilliant, and yet only one of a dozen you pointed out that day. You love the word "miscommunication" and you make sure to articulate exactly when you think we're having one. You have an amazing ability to work through stressful situations. You know how to breathe, and ask for a "moment to calm down" and come back to the situation with your "thinking brain on".

You stretch me and teach me every single day. I love that you love life. You never miss a moment of beauty, you make sure to point out the changing colors on the leaves and the perfect temperature outside. You dance. Everywhere. Always in stores. Often at home. You sing as long as you are okay with who is listening. You love cookie dough. You work so hard. I don't know anyone except your dad who knows how to dig in like you do and stay focused on something with such diligence. You love to make people laugh. You love to help people feel loved. Five times a day in the car the following conversation plays out:"Mom?" "what?" "I love you." Just like that. You love to cuddle. You, blanket, dad, for hours if you could.

You have mastered learning. You can't ever get enough. Your best days are the days that are structured and full of learning. At first I thought reading at 3 meant it was your forte. Little did I know how well you'd take to math. Six years old, able to do multiplication, and eager for the next lesson in all areas. Learning is your passion and I get to be the lucky one who watches you go on this amazing ride.

In violin we've earned your full bow! Book 2 started for us a few weeks ago, and suddenly tone and music are streaming through you like you're playing on a full size instrument. You are always listening, always asking what the classical music playing on the radio is about. Stories and imagination color your whole world.

Your active imagination is with you forever, I'm afraid. With Grandmother Linda and myself both totally in the same boat, there's not much hope for you. Last week you couldn't sleep all night because you were so afraid of the storyline from a Curious George that Blake watched. The innocence is something that I love, it keeps you young, when so many other parts of you seem so old.

We have moved 4 times in the last 18 months, and each time you've adjusted perfectly. You have an amazing ability to make friends and bring light to everyone around you. When your Primary teacher asked your class to each write down 5 things about yourselves to share, you wrote:
1. I'm good at making friends
2. I'm brave
3. I play the violin
4. I golf
5. I like making cookies.
I loved this list, especially the first two. You ARE brave, and you ARE amazing at making friends.

Thank you Brooklynn, for being my little girl. All the time I find I'm hoping that I'm enough for you, this enormous amazing person that you are and you are becoming. I feel that very soon it will be you leading me, not the other way around. But until then, I'm so grateful for the way your little hand fits into mine as we walk to the park. I treasure everything about you.

Love,
Mom

Nice to meet you Santa Rosa

Does anyone blog anymore? I've been swept away with the social media craze that is instant gratification in small tid-bits. Heaven forbid I read a paragraph. But I started blogging when no one else knew what a blog was, really I'm so cutting edge like that. So why stop now? With two young home-schooled kids and one on the way, my posts may be fewer and further between, but writing will prevail.

So we moved and settled into this new life in Santa Rosa. There's been a lot of learning. The steepest climb has been for me, and if I had to pick, I would choose it this way. I'm so grateful that my kids transitioned without any effort, and that Brent is thriving at work. Leaving family and friends in the desert was hard for this mamma who was just starting to get comfortable with the luxury of having family close.

I've learned I thrive when I am out to prove something. Maybe this is something we all do. The heart kicks in, and we're going to survive. This was evident when I was the underdog my first year at Aspen. Everyone in my studio were from conservatories on the East Coast, and I was this ugly duckling from Utah. But while they were out partying and drinking at night, I was still practicing, logging the extra hours. In the end it paid off in a big way. Again we challenged the norm when we chose to live (and raise our family) in an old-folks home in the "arm-pit of California" that is Riverside. It could not have been a more unconventional situation. But I loved it. Really, I LOVED it. Our dear little 700 square feet was perfect for us and other than racing to see family on the weekend we never really felt the need to leave it.

And then we met Santa Rosa. Everyone told me that I would love it. EVERYONE. Like you, your brother, your mother's friend, and the random lady in the grocery store everyone. I don't know why this bugged me so much. Why did this bug me so much??!! But it did. I was frustrated that people had made my experience without me having even lived it. They had already told me what I would feel, and I never got a chance to surprise them. Weird. I know. Anyway, I think I came with a little bit of a bitter taste in my mouth.

However, to my credit, there were some pretty hard things to get used to. For example, the people here are rude. I mean, I've lived in New York City . . . . I'm not turned off by people who are blunt and just tell you how it is. But the people here are way beyond that. They go out of their way to yell at you. Or me. Maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm a magnet for mean comments slathered up in bitterness and thrown in my direction. Because it happens at least a few times a week. People have come up and yelled at me for looking at my cell phone in a parked car in a parking lot. Seriously, they go out of there way to find me and attack me. At first I thought I'd kill them with love. But I'm so over that. The next person who comes at me (I'm sure it will be in the next few days) will have someone to reckon with. I fear for that person. All the frustration of all the run-ins are about to come out.

Also, it is agonizingly expensive to do/buy/eat/drive/entertain anywhere here. Milk is $4.80/gallon, which is about what gas is too. Even silly things like getting our family photos taken. I have called 5 different recommendations and every one of them is over $600/family session. You will live in a shoe box in a terrible neighborhood if you want to find a single-family home between $2,375 - $2,600 a month in rent. And that house won't have a yard and will smell like cats. Babysitters are just as stubborn in their prices. It's like someone made up a funny dream where everyone spends loads and loads of money and at the same time pretends that it's normal, and somehow I ended up in that dream. Sometimes I just want to shake people and scream "where is the sanity?!".

But there are good things, too. I love living in the mountains. You really just can't compare the smell of mountain air to anything else. It's crisp, cool, and clean. The trees here are awesome - so many redwoods splattered with a few palm trees and so many animals. Every morning we have deer outside our window, often with one or two little ones tagging along, and wild turkeys come in flocks a few times a day. Land here is green, full of vineyards and orchards and growth. The ocean fog comes in every morning and helps us all wake up slowly, the kind of mornings that offer a soft sweater and warm drink and then by afternoon it's warm and bright and sometimes even hot. We have hikes right outside our front door, and the views are breathtakingly beautiful. The rocky ocean coast is just 30 minutes away, and the drive to get there is very similar to driving through France: fields full of cows, small cottages, fields of grapes, a beautiful winding river, green and blue everywhere. In fact, other than Larommiguiere, I've never lived anywhere as beautiful as here.

We're expecting a baby and I'm so grateful that the hospital offers private rooms, and mid-wives instead of Doctors if you choose. Brooklynn has started her 3rd grade curriculum in home school and we found a great home-study program here that gives us all the resources free of cost, and supports her moving at her own pace without any hassle. There's also an amazing youth orchestra that rehearses on Saturdays (not Sundays!) that is letting her join even though she's 5. And Brent's job came with a full family membership to the athletic club next door, so there's 2 hours of free babysitting every day as I hit the gym and keep this pregnant belly moving, in addition to total pool access and unlimited golf for Brent and Brooklynn, which is a lifestyle we've never had before and really is such a huge perk. So there are some wonderful things about Santa Rosa as well.

We've had our arguments, but I have high hopes that we're past the rockiest point in our relationship, Santa Rosa.
Here's to feeling fall weather and seeing your colors change.

Turning Two

Blake, in the last year you have become a giggling display of love. You've always had this calm, easy going manner, but now that you're running and jumping and tumbling with Brooklynn you've developed a way of making every one feel included and a part of the joy you bring with you everywhere you go. Every time I say goodnight you call me back to ask if we can go to the "choo choo park" and then you giggle uncontrollably as I laugh and say "it's dark!". And yet it continues, every single night, because you know it's funny.

Tonight you said the prayer before dinner without breaking out of your "scary voice" the whole time. Brookynn was in a fit of giggles, but you never strayed from character until the Amen, when you laughed right along with her.

It took a few weeks of practice, but you've mastered putting two fingers up so whenever anyone asks how you are, you answer "TWO!". Blake, how are you? TWO! and up go the fingers (sometimes with a little help from the other hand).

You also love to give the thumbs up. Typically as you are running away to some adventure, you'll turn around and call to me, and then just give me a solid thumbs up. Like suddenly you're 16 years old.

Your brain is so much faster than your mouth. When it catches up I can't imagine what we're going to hear from you. Right now, you're just content to keep all that information in your head, including the entire alphabet which you've memorized and love to point out on my computer keyboard. "Mommy, B! Ba Ba Ba!" as you point to the B key.

You are so kind. Down to the core. All the time you stop and give me a spontaneous hug and kiss. We can always count on you to volunteer to kiss someone else's "oweee" without being asked, and there are so many moments when you'll turn to Brooklynn and declare "I wuv ooo Baa Baa!". Almost ALWAYS you offer the first "na na mama num num!" ("thank you mom for the food") without being prompted, at dinner.

If something falls, you'll be the first to pick it up. If something spills, you'll run and get a napkin. You are considerate and kind . . . how?! Two years old and just there you are, being an amazing example.

You love trains and cars and airplanes. And TRACTORS. Your favorite color is blue. You like to tease us when we ask you the colors, by responding that each one is blue. It drives your dad crazy but you think it's hilarious. When you hear the door open, you always race to the front room with a huge bellowing "HI DADDA!!" which is perfectly addicting.

You can almost keep up with Brooklynn and she adores you. You have become her everything: her playmate, her best friend, her brother, her confidant. . . often the two of you will turn to each other for comfort before you come and ask for it from me. She hardly has patience enough to let you take your nap every day, always asking how much longer until you wake up. It's a good thing you are so physical, so 100% throw, tumble, grab, smash, pull, roll (repeat) because you can keep up playing with her rough housing without blinking an eye. Yesterday you balanced walking on the curb for the entire length of it and I couldn't believe your coordination and how much it's grown in just a few months.

You love your blue blanket, but you chew mercilessly on the corners, which means it also gets washed almost every single day.

You are the yin to my yang little man. Everything we need to balance us all out is found in you.
I can't wait to see what Two brings for you.
Love,
Mom

La Quinta how we love you.

We've officially been in our home for 4 1/2 months. Never has a family on planet Earth so appreciated 2350 square feet. For the first month I literally thought four or five times a day "wow, so much room!". For FHE we could be in the living room . . . the dining room . . . at the kitchen table . . . . outside on the patio . . . the options seemed endless. And unlike our last space, each option was really a different location, not all the same five square feet.
This house was hard earned. It represented our family of 4 (+ dog) living in an upstairs apartment of an OLD FOLKS HOME for three years while we saved and saved and saved for a hefty down payment so we could be in a beautiful home and still within Dave Ramsey's budget guidelines. This home is my castle, it really is. I am so proud and so grateful for it. Words don't really capture how much I love my house.I spent hours upon hours slowly decorating and ordering rugs and curtains. Then I got frustrated and ordered every color of curtain at once to just get it over with (and return the wrong colors). We have made it our own, and I truly love every inch of it.

I love the backyard with it's GRAPEVINEs that hang over and shade the veranda. The white lights we've strung for the perfect evenings sitting out on our new patio furniture. The 18 foot high lofted ceilings throughout. The separate room and bathroom right off the front door for my teaching. The fully fenced backyard that lets the kids roam in and out without me worrying about anything. The lime, lemon, pomegranate, peppercorn, and two types of orange trees that are blooming year round next to the exploding bougainvilleas. The master bedroom that has a ginormous master bath and walk in closet. The floor plan, and how the kids rooms are right next to ours. I love the double doors that open into the master bedroom. I love our location, across the street from a huge neighborhood park and literally seconds from all the amenities. Bed Bath and Beyond. Home Goods. Lowes. Home Depot. World Market. Target. Grocery Stores. All within two miles. I love that it's a safe, family friendly neighborhood with kids that walk their dog and ride their bikes. Sigh. I love that it's 6 minutes from our barn. I love our barn. I love that it's just five stop lights away from family that we love. Brooklynn literally died and went to heaven when we moved here and were able to see, sometimes several times a day, her cousins. We had instant friends in family. We have people to go out with every weekend, and you have no idea the glow I felt moving into the ward as the third Thatcher Wife. I love it. Living close to family has been a game changer in quality of life.

So you can imagine my surprise when things didn't quite pan out like we thought they would in Brent's new building. It seemed like the perfect fit, but when it was all said and done, it just wasn't. So when another opportunity arose, I thought "oh, this must be the Lord's way of helping Brent feel needed and wanted and will be a great thing for us to turn down." But when Brent called me after the interview, I heard something totally unexpected in his voice, and my gut took a deep sigh. The offer was just too good. I knew we were going to move.

Lots of prayers and fasting later, I have come to terms with the decision. Santa Rosa is a beautiful community completely dedicated to the arts. The European feel of the Napa Valley is so endearing that even wanting to not like it there, I feel completely in love. Everything seemed to fall into place and within a few days I went from buying curtains to returning everything I could. We found a short term rental for an unbeatable price until we can find something more permanent. The cost of living is astronomical up there, so its a blessing in disguise that we can (hopefully) rent our home out and make some money on it to go towards cost of living in the Bay Area.

We'll miss family dearly. But we're trusting in this next step, and like every other step we've made, we're grateful we're doing it together.