a message from cheerbear

Hi everybody,
My name is Cheerbear and I come from the land of Care-a-lot. The thing is, when you come from a place like Care-a-lot, you tend to care for other people. A lot. So imagine my worry when I heard that Mara, Becca's 6-year-old niece lost her dear Bedtime Bear while driving back to Montana from Minnesota! Word has it, they think it fell out of the car at a rest stop! Oh, how terribly sad for Mara! She misses that carebear a lot and feels especially sad at night. And who could blame her?

Now, I'm not worried about Bedtime Bear. We Carebears actually enjoy a change of scenery once in a while and find that a big move across the country can be quiet the awesome adventure. We're very happy wherever we are, because we have come to find that people are very good to us and we tend to make friends easily!

Anyway, when I heard that Mara is missing her dear Bedtime Bear, I came up with a plan. I bravely decided that just like Bedtime Bear is enjoying new surroundings at some truck stop somewhere in South Dakota, it might be time for me to go on an adventure to Montana.

So this week, I am going to travel to a land I've never been, called Montana. I can't wait. And Mara will be my new bedtime snuggler.

When I told my stuffed friends of my plans, Stuffed Squirrel just couldn't contain his excitement and begged that he be allowed to come along for sister Sonna. And you know, I'm so relieved to have a companion on my journey. Everything is more fun with a friend.

So this is goodbye, Becca's blog friends. I am off to the mountains, and hope dearly that one day I might return to Minnesota. But until then I'll be living the dream with Stuffed Squirrel.

Sincerely,
Cheerbear

lilacs

My favorite smell in the world is lilac. Our backyard is lined with nine lilac bushes and they fill the air with the strongest, most fantastic lovely smell.

I remember last year, Rory and I were taking a walk in Gretna and found a backyard filled with lilac bushes just like our place in Minneapolis. We were smelling the flowers when the owners of the home came outside. By the time we left their yard they invited us to come back with vases and scissors to cut our own bouquets. And we did. A couple different times over the next 10 days.

I think that is how lilacs should work...if you don't have your own, you should really find someone to make you a bouquet. And if you have a whole bunch, you should be responsible to share them with others. The blooming season is just so short, it should really be enjoyed by as many people as possible. Let me know if you need a lilac partner and I'll hook you up :)

happy friday

motherhood, for me:

I have been trying to write a piece on motherhood for a few weeks now. I wanted to have something new on the blog for mother's day... sort of a reflective piece on 'life as a mom six months in..."

Turns out, I don't get as much time to write precisely because I am a mom. Also, everything I wrote felt accurate for some moods, and totally fictitious...depending on what kind of day it was. Yesterday I had a day that provided a bit of clarity for how I have experienced motherhood and I'd like to share this with you today.

***

I’m pretty sure I would sum up motherhood as a combination of two kinds of days. There are days when I feel like I've got it together, all plates are spinning in the air and I feel confident that I might just have this whole multi-tasking thing down. I walk around singing Chaka Khan's I’m every woman and enjoy a fridge full of food, the baby sleeping in his crib and the house looking clean and tidy. The laundry is clean and the dishes are done and the sunshine is pouring in through the windows. Right on the heels of those magical days come other days when I wonder if I could be any more disorganized, google recipes for what I can make with baking soda, A1 sauce and eggs that might be expired, do a double take to be sure those dust bunnies aren't actual bunnies and walk around the house singing Gnarls Barkley's I think I’m crazy.

Trouble is, when I wake up in the morning, there is no telling which song is waiting for me to sing.

For example, Friday I woke up ready for coffee with a group of women from church to celebrate a friend who is walking through a really challenging season. We were all supposed to bring something for her to enjoy, so the night before I baked chocolate chip cookies and found a few of my very favorite magazines, tied these gifts up with a lovely fabric ribbon, printed out the directions to where we were meeting and woke in time to get a shower in. I was about to leave my house with plenty of time to arrive right on time, directions in hand, feeling cute (read: showered) and I just may have been thinking proud thoughts like, “looks like someone’s got her act together.”

Checked my phone on the way out the door and the coffee had been postponed. It was a bummer, but Rory encouraged me to still use the time to do something by myself- he had Ivar.

The day was a great day. I went grocery shopping, bought birthday gifts for nieces and nephews and felt in control.

Fast forward to yesterday morning, the morning of the rescheduled ladies coffee.

I wake up and am not feeling super rested. The cookies that had been baked for last Friday have been consumed. No new cookies were baked. The magazines that were wrapped in a pretty ribbon were forgotten in the church nursery on Sunday morning. The directions for where I am heading were thrown away during a weekend cleaning.

I thought about taking a shower, but upon unzipping my son’s sleep sack, I realize that he is the one who gets to bathe this morning, as he is smeared in poo from the neck down. I have a flashback of me changing his diaper at 6 am and actually thinking, “I don’t need to keep my eyes open. Blind people change their baby's diapers all the time.” I regret not having opened my eyes during the changing as the diaper was only covering one butt cheek so that all of his poo snuck out the side, avoiding the diaper entirely. I made a mental note to leave blind diaper changing to the actual blind and to use my sight for all future diaper changes.

I call the church, and my friend Allie spots the magazines in the nursery right where I had left them.

As I leave the house, I am already late, though I still need to stop by the church to get my gift. I have not showered…in fact, I am sporting my glasses as there was no time for contacts. I carry no cookies and if we are really honest, I believe Rory and Ivar are probably relieved to see moody-me walk out the door.

The contrast between these two days is the very best way I can sum up what my new life is like as a mom. Some days I’m every woman, and other days I think I’m crazy. And yet, I have never in my life been so happy, been so hormonal, been so high, and been so humbled as I have while walking through this first year of motherhood.

Our Vegetable Garden

The weather turned nice in Minnesota and Rory and I hit the yard with wild abandon. We had been visualizing our game plan all spring-that-was-really-winter-still. So when the weather turned lovely, we got busy.

Rory worked on his raised bed vegetable garden and I planted a raspberry patch (more on that later). Ivar was a champ and either napped incredibly long naps or came out to kick it with us in the back yard. He is such a content kid.

Rory preps the ground for his raised bed.

One side of the frame is tarped to block topsoil weeds.

The finished frame.

Rory made his soil from scratch. He had to pick up bulk supplies from a garden wholesaler: compost (with manure of course), peat moss, and vermiculite.

The only way to mix the large quantities (almost 40 cubic feet) was rolling it around in a large tarp.

Rory followed a technique called Square Foot Gardening, where every crop gets planted in its own square. This lets him rotate the vegetables and stagger the harvest all summer long.
Next he'll plant lettuce, spinach, broccoli, squash, cucumbers, tomatoes, carrots, onions and potatoes.

morning snuggles

Ivar has been sneaking into our bed in the morning lately, unclothed and super cuddly. I don't know how he manages to get from his crib into our room, but it seems to be happening daily lately and might just be a new favorite time of the day for the rest of us. He's so soft and loves laying between us, moving his head from mom to dad back to mom and back to dad.

heaven is for real

Mom Groves gave us a book for Easter called ‘Heaven is for Real.’ The book is coming up in conversations all over the place, and after Rory finished I picked it up for my turn. I read it in two days and my reaction to the ending surprised me.

The book is about an almost 4-year-old who gets terribly ill and visits Heaven for three minutes. The story unfolds over the next few years as this little boy mentions things about Jesus and Heaven and his ancestors that he really could not have known unless he really was there. When I was half way through the book I told Rory that I was still skeptical, justifying everything he said and how he might have known such information without actually visiting heaven.

I’m not sure when in my adult-life I acquired my adult-like faith. But somewhere along the way I found this voice that wants to reason everything through, rationalize the possibilities and find intelligible ways to justify phenomenal things happening.

I read this book to the end, and I am changed. And I am shocked because my cheese-ball detector was so stinkin high while I read it. I was cynical, skeptical and guarded, but in the end I just felt sorry for myself. When did I lose my child-like faith? I believe in Jesus! Why is it hard for me to believe he is waiting to meet me face to face? I believe in Heaven! Why is it so hard for me to believe that I will go there with every other person who professes Jesus as their God, and that when I do, I will be reunited with my grandpa’s and grandma’s, Hildur, Karen Dwyer, Ed Solomonson, Andy Kingsbury, Marj Engebretson, great aunt Chrystal, great uncle Lawrence and Papa.

Something happened in my adult-like thinking that changed the way I saw heaven and Jesus. Heaven had somehow become this spirit-world filled with balls of light that were actually our souls and there we would just hover together, lights together, formless but bright. And Jesus would be the brightest light and God would be everywhere. And because Jesus and God and the Holy Spirit are triune, they’d just be one intermingled blobby thing radiating over all of us other spirit blobs.

How bizarre.

Through the retelling of this little boy’s experience, and the actual scriptural references to support the details he mentions to his family, I finally got back the faces and flesh to return to those blobby souls. I rediscovered a place I once believed in where Jesus himself will welcome me and then introduce me to my Heavenly Father. I will be reunited with my great cloud of witnesses, and I’ll recognize them and they’ll recognize me.

The thing this changes the very most, then, is that the great commission becomes so much more urgent. If we’re not just light blobs bouncing around (who knows where I had picked up this weirdo thinking!) but we are there, recognizable to one another, then there is a whole new sadness and grief in thinking of family or friends who do not know Jesus as the one who saved them from this selfish life of me, here, now. It makes me want to be so much bolder in how I share Jesus, eternity, salvation.

I remember a few months ago, Rory and I sat in church and watched over 30 immersion baptisms. It moved me to my core and later we shared a conversation about how good it is to remember that what we were witnessing that morning was real life. Everything else we fill our days with are mere distractions from the true call we have been given to seek the lost and share the good news that this world we have constructed all around us isn’t all there is. Thank God. Real life is still to come.

If you have an evening or two, grab yourself a copy of Heaven is for Real. Your cheesy detector may be high, but I believe through this little four-year-old, your thinking may very well be changed.

I worshiped this morning picturing the face of Jesus during every song, and all of the faces of the saints who have gone before me. I envisioned wings on my grandpa’s and I saw them cheering me on, yelling for me to get back in the game…to be courageous in my living. And then I envisioned my Heavenly Father, huge and great and powerful, and real.

I started saying “I believe you are real. I believe you are real. I believe you are real.” It was like I could breathe deeper. I feel something new starting to grow in me again. It’s been a long time since I felt that and it feels so good.

happy friday

Ivar's shirt says: Even my poop is cute. It's a favorite of mine, given to us by Tony, a college friend of Rory's. The onesie now fits Ivar and I find it well timed since Ivar is now eating rice cereal, fruits and veggies and his own poo has gone from that mellow unpopped-microwave-popcorn-smell to something much more potent. To say it kindly.

My little fruit patch

We were excited about the vegetable garden, and then we were offered raspberries. My excitement multiplied exponentially. Because I like veggies, but I ADORE raspberries. And the thought of having our own little stash growing all summer long in the backyard thrilled me to no end.

This wasn't going to be an easy project though. We have rocks all over our back yard. Rocks and overgrown bushes. It's terrible. Apparently the last owners wanted a very low maintenance backyard, and so they rocked all over the previous owners flower beds. And then they went bush crazy. It's a tiny backyard and there are over 25 bushes. No lie. We have dreams of removing every last river rock from our yard. One day we'll get there, so we started our rock removal program with the raspberry patch.Rory and I worked for hours on this section by the garage and got rid of 5-8 inches of rock, hauling them by tarp over to the rocks by our driveway. We found this drain thing that our neighbor Alison told us was put in because the garage used to get icy floors and the previous owners wouldn't be able to stop once they pulled their car in during the winter.

Since we also value the ability to stop our car in the garage and not just plow through to the other side, we decided we had best keep the drain. So Rory did some repair and we put some rock down over the tube and then wrapped the tube with some fancy material so that mud wouldn't cake the tube before the water could get through. Then we covered the whole thing with more of the same soil mix Rory had used for his Veggie Garden.

Ivar watched us the ENTIRE time. And he looked about as enthused as you would expect a kid would while watching his parents move rock from one side of the yard to the other. But he never complained. He's so good to us.Our plan is to post all of this River Rock on craigs list for free. If you or anyone you know is looking for lots and lots and lots of free rock, look no further! It's yours!And finally, thanks to Kathy Anderson, my life-long next door neighbor (until I was 17) I planted the raspberries. I realize they are WAY TOO CLOSE TOGETHER, but we were sort of banking only a third of them surviving. Turns out, the day I planted them was good and humid and the two days since have been muggy and wet and basically perfect for transplants. So it may very well be that I will have to find new homes for many, many of my raspberry plants. Either that, or we'll have the raspberries to feed the neighborhood all summer long.

Next up, rhubarb and dwarf blueberry bushes. Yum, yum and yum.

reservations for 14 adults, 7 babies

Well, I have terrible pictures, but I really feel like I had better document this one. On Saturday our birthing class had a six month reunion. We met at Tavern on France and were told that the back room charged a ridiculous amount of money to reserve. So the mom making the reservations just said, we'd be happy anywhere. We'll have 14 adults and 7 babies. And guess where they put us? In the back room. A risky group, to be sure.

It was a super amazing lunch. The last time we had seen each other, we had just watched a birthing video and were all 8-9 months pregnant. Six months later and everyone had their 5-6 month old in tow, looked confident and collected (I thought it was good we waited for six months...I know I wasn't feeling confident or collected a few months ago) and we all shared stories of labor, our favorite diapers, and how our lives have changed in the most amazing ways in the past six months.

Mother's Day

I just came across these lovely posts from last year, written by seven of my favorite women in the world in honor of Mother's Day. If you're new to the blog, be sure to go back and read the wisdom written by seven hard-working, honorable mom's.

For the intro post, click here.
For the final post, click here.

And click on the names for the following words of wisdom from:
My mom, Margaret Harrington
My sister-in-law, Stephanie Morris
My sister-in-law, Lisa Groves
My mother-in-law, Marlene Groves
My sister, Annika Larson
My sister-in-law, Sara Groves
My grandma, Velma Bredberg

the princess of whales

While with my nieces this weekend, I was explaining to Sonna, the three year old, that there was a girl who was going to marry a prince and that after the wedding she would become a real life princess. Sonna, who is very much in to all things pink, jewelery, dresses and princesses asked with big eyes, "Who is she?"

I told her her name was Kate and since my sister was listening I added, "and she is just a common girl, like you and like me." Annika groaned/laughed.

And then I asked Annika what she thought Katherine would be called. Will she be the Princess of Whales?

Sonna confidently blurted out, "Oh, I already know that princess. It's Ariel."

Get it? Whales? Under the Sea? That's funny stuff and a pretty clever and concrete three year old.

Triple L Farm

"I remember a time when families all lived together/
four generations in one house/
and the table was filled with good food and friends and neighbors..."

This is a lyric to one of my favorite Sara Groves songs all about friendship. We got to live this lyric out this weekend and it was perfect. We spent the weekend at the Triple L Farm, my brother-in-law Jedd's family farm. His sister Sara wrote about the weekend here.

It was one of those awesome weekends where you are always aware and so grateful that God created us for community. There were 25 people, many working outside painting, scraping, raking, cleaning and using chainsaws. Some were inside getting the next meal prepared or washing the dishes from the previous meal. Others were watching various combinations of the five kids under age five. The farm was filled with energy and joy. As Sara wrote so beautifully, we experienced the power and pleasure in the act of being connected to land and place, friends and family.

The farm is on the South Dakota border, a pretty windy part of the state and a perfect place to fly a kite. At one point this kite got stuck in the very, very top of a huge tree and Sonna (3yrs) recommended that Grandpa Paul just find a big, big stick to get it out. Thankfully the wind got the kite out for us.It was so good to have sister time. And I haven't seen Jedd look so happy in a long, long time.
The babies were especially sweet, interested in each others toes and socks and taking turns sucking on various toys. I can't believe these little cousins are already half a year old!

more homemade granola bars

Last year I made Starbucks granola bars to take to camp for a healthy staff breakfast. I have been thinking about them a lot lately because I eat a granola bar every day. A hearty granola bar hits the spot for this nursing mom. But my guess is that it isn't really the healthiest habit, especially when I really don't know what is in the store-bought granola bars.

So I looked for another recipe and hit the jackpot. I filled it with all good things, cut the sugar and they are divine. So good that the pan is almost gone (next goal: moderation). These things are so satisfying. I love peanut butter and honey and oatmeal and raisons, so really it would be hard to go wrong with a recipe like this. I made mine with raw almonds, raw walnuts and raisons and they turned out superb.

I found my recipe here, at a food blog called Smitten Kitchen. Yum. I'll be working on variations of this recipe for a long, long time. I'd actually like to try to add in a lot of the starbucks healthy grains (wheat germ, wheat bran and flax seed) to this new recipe. And today I purchased Agave Syrup to try to replace the sugar and honey. I'll keep you posted as I search for the *perfect* granola bar.

six months

What in the world. You are half a year old today, Ivar Nicholas. It just doesn't seem possible that it has already been half a year since we all met in that hospital room.

Strangely, all you’ve really known of the world is that it’s really cold outside. We’ve had a really long winter that set in the week you were born and today on May 1st, we had snow flurries! But stay patient, because I really think you’re going to enjoy the next six months of Minnesota weather.

You are learning a few new skills that will be helpful as we soak up the sun together. Just this week you mastered the art of sitting up on your own. Pillows are still helpful in propping you up as you tend to tip over if there is a toy too far out of your reach. But once face planted, you are good at pushing yourself up a bit and deciding to investigate the carpet you’re on, just as long as you’re down there anyway. I can’t wait to walk you to Lake Harriet, sit you up on a blanket in the shade and watch the boats, squirrels, runners and ducks.

This month you started eating rice cereal, carrots and sweet potatoes. You love your high chair and get very worried if the food doesn’t come to you quick enough. The first time I fed you with a spoon you already were trying to grab the spoon to get it to your mouth faster. It means that we cannot feed you without a complete mess on our hands… and your hands, and our sleeves, your sleeves, your face, neck folds and bib. It’s quite the production.

We still consider you to be the happiest baby on the planet. You are pure joy. You smile and everyone, laugh with your belly and have an ability to charm the socks off of any soul who makes eye contact. You are also a very agreeable baby, who rarely fusses and usually with good reason.
Best of all is how much love you are able to give back to me and your dad. You light up when you see us, laugh out loud when we come back into your presence after having been gone for while. There is no greater feeling than the one you give us every single day: that we are loved and that we are adored. I hope you know the feeling is very mutual.

little monkey

Last week Rory and I took Ivar to the Como Zoo conservatory. When there is still snow flying in April, it's a really good place to go and to remember what humidity is like. The flowers were stunning and smelled so good. But we didn't really feel the need to see any of the animals since we have our own little monkey anyway.