Happy September! Happy birthday Chad! As Wesley has been working on his application package, we have talked a lot about our fathers and their work ethic. We appreciate your humility, intellectual capacities, and willingness to always serve others. You are one of the reasons that we know our blessings come from the righteousness of our fathers. We’re not supposed to just bask in them; you’ve taught us to use them to help others. Thank you for this consistent example of Christlike perspective.

We celebrated six years of marital joy last Thursday. We’re still such newlyweds trying to figure out each other and this parenting thing—and it’s so fun! Marriage is a commitment to continue choosing someone even as you both change. We have grown together, enhanced each other, challenged each other. The life we have now was incomprehensible to me six years ago, a year ago! When I wake up in the night and see Wesley I overflow with gratitude that the Lord let me have him and that Wesley chose me, too. Working together on his application has been so rewarding because it helps us trace our development, personally and professionally. (Wesley’s writing has improved significantly as well!) I have full confidence that we can face anything if we’re together. Thankfully, we’re sealed eternally—so we will be.  

Last week we finally went to the Congress Avenue Bridge (also known as Bat Bridge) for FHE. It houses one of the largest urban bat populations (over one million bats). People gather at a little park at the base, on the sidewalk by the road, on the river in kayaks and ferries. The Austin Chronicle opens up its parking lot to the public for free after 6 p.m. You can see right into the city center. As dusk settles in, we heard little squeaking—it sounded more like child conversation than mice. Then whoosh! A stream of bats swooped under the length of the bridge and down the river. They all followed the same path. I expected them to be bigger, but they were the size of swallows or smaller with delicate appearance, almost like butterflies. People say that sometimes the sky turns black with them. We didn’t see that. What amazed me was the constant motion. We were there for over an hour while they flew out nonstop. Thousands and thousands of fragile, bug-eating bats. We loved it.

We went to the Children’s Museum for the last time before they closed for three months to relocate. The boys loved the room filled with colored golf balls and mazes. Lincoln tried to gather and carry all of the yellow ones.

Last Sunday some friends came over for dinner (hence, no time for a letter). They have a 14-month old son. The boys took him under their protection, trying to teach him the proper way to leap from a couch…

In the sports arena, Wesley ordered a ton of flag football flags (so he can continue inviting people to play with him every other Saturday now that school is back on). The boys have carried them, worn them, and talked about them nonstop. We went bowling with Wesley’s IGERT colleagues (an interdisciplinary energy group). Levi and Lincoln loved choosing their big, heavy balls. Wesley patiently helped them roll it down the lane: Lincoln eventually just kicked his. They have been concentrating on hitting tennis balls—much to the entertainment of our neighbors. Levi hit six in a row. I’m impressed.

I’m getting excited for the heat to dip since bugs continue to invade our lives. I composted 25 pounds of flour full of weevils (they’re nasty when they get bigger!). I opened my bag of new, beautiful red potatoes, and a cockroach had moved in, eaten them all, and grown immensely as a result. One night (2 a.m.ish) I saw another huge cockroach on the ceiling. I couldn’t get him without waking everyone. I waited. When went out again, he was on the floor. Wes heard me giving myself a pep-talk, so he got up to kill the critter. Of course, we missed him as he ran into the boys’ room! We moved beds, went through the closet and dresser—no luck! Lincoln slept through it all; Levi was already awake. Levi found the starved bug dead in his closet five days later. If I was a better person, I might have some pity on the filthy thing. Ugh. Cockroaches must be a creation of the same kind of boys who made Killer Bunnies. Bugs make me willing to go to the Arctic. We’ll probably move deeper into the south so I can learn to have a softened heart!

Yesterday our ward shared a temple day. We reserved the church building down the street from the temple. The primary set up stations and activities and guardians for the kids. The youth did baptisms and adults split as desired. We went early so I could do initiatory then help with the nursery. Levi wore “all white” (white shirt and tie with khakis) so he could go in the waiting room and see the temple workers. He’s been asking for a month, so we slipped in and his face lit up. He beamed for the rest of the day. Lincoln took special care of Keller in nursery, sharing toys, ensuring nothing went in his mouth, singing songs, while I had to help other kids. I taught a spur of the moment lesson on the temple and what their parents were doing. Such sweet, tender spirits. One boy requested “I Am a Child of God” and he, another boy, and Lincoln all sang loudly and fervently. They understand their identity so well. How do we ever forget? Wesley confirmed proxies for about 150 people—he was hoarse when he finished. There must have been a lot of rejoicing in that room. What powerful words: “Receive the Holy Ghost.”

The boys conspire and play and adventure. They dressed in uniform to be pilots. They pretend to ride motorcycles. They stop at hotels and check in, find their room, unload. They follow “maps” to fight fires. Keller has fully joined the crew. He climbs into the Cozy Coupe, honks the horn, ready to go. He tries to walk by pushing it. They tip it on its side and he slides right in, head first. They’re all bruised and happy.

We’ve started the weaning process which is better than anticipated but increases the noise level in our house. Keller usually won’t suck on anything but me, so we’ve had to spoon the formula into him with baby cereal. The sippy cup slowly gains status as a tool as well as a toy. Yesterday was particularly hot—he discovered its true purpose! Although he sits on his knees, boogies, and stands a ton, he still prefers to slither all over. Rashes cover his arms (he doesn’t seem to mind as long as he can go fast). He loves water. I can’t keep his face out of it. He dunks himself in the bathtub. Swimming lessons for everyone (are needed)! He loves the piano. He clamors up to it, plunking the keys until he loses balance. Banged up, scratched up, speedy little boy.

We read the Caldecott winner, So You Want to Be President? Lincoln caught the connection to himself this time (we’ve read a lot of Lincoln books): “I am Lincoln like Abraham Lincoln! President Lincoln!” I’m waiting for him to try to build a log cabin. Our landlord came over to see the fence falling over. She came back in, the boys asked her about the fence, and Lincoln lifted his hammer to announce, “I can fix it!” He’s phasing out of naps with his usual boisterousness. One day he called from his locked room for 20 minutes, “I’m coming down! I’m coming down!” Whenever I open his door he has changed his clothes. He switches shorts about six times a day. He claimed Wesley’s huge new football. His attempts to carry it didn’t work, so he loaded it in his backpack and hauls it that way. His newest love is the skate boarders and skate parks. He actually stands still to watch them! And after Levi “filled the font” for Peter’s baptism, Lincoln said he could perform the ordinance. Levi proudly looked on. Poor Peter will never dry off.  During dinner last night Lincoln stood on his booster seat, turned around and pointed to our picture of Christ washing the apostles’ feet. “Where are Peter’s shoes? Why are his feet dirty? Why is Jesus wearing red and white?” He asked a trillion detailed questions, then splayed his hands out wide, “Where are Jesus’ holes?” I bore my testimony of Christ’s love for us and our need to be cleansed with the chronology of His life. We are the holes in His hands; He lifts us up.

Levi’s patience and hardiness astound me. We’ve had some rough nights over the last two weeks; he has been awake, quietly waiting in his room for three or four hours a night. Once after waiting for most of the night, he cracked and woke Lincoln up (which takes effort). They bounded into our room. We asked them to go back to bed, he put his hands over his face exasperated and said, “But the night is so long!” Yet, he went back to his dark room to wait, even after the melatonin, after the potty break, after waiting and waiting. Talk about long-suffering! Suffering long! His excitement over school might rival mine. After buying a few school supplies, he spent all day organizing and reorganizing them. After his first day of our mother’s preschool he reported that he loved it, didn’t use all of his supplies, and “didn’t learn anything.” He went to Hannah’s house this week; we answered a lot of questions about his future life with “my wife.” After one of these extended conversations he turned to me, grinning:  “You love Dad so much you want to eat him up, huh?” pause. “I love Dad so much I want to eat you, and Lincoln and Keller up. Then it will just be me and Dad!” Smart kiddo!

Levi and Lincoln received blessings for the beginning of school. Both were very excited. We brought a cake to Wesley’s group for the first day of school. I love the first day of school. There’s a buzz in the air as people try to figure out where their classes are and how to begin anew. Thinking about it makes me excited—and I don’t even go to class! Everyone looks hyped on adrenaline of a new transition, some polished in new school clothes, others rumpled and right out of bed. The professors bustle around with stacks of paper. Most of the grad students and professors have been there all summer long, researching away, but the fresh start remains. I want to sharpen number 2 pencils and check the blue ink—but now people are making sure their tablets are loaded and they have wifi access. Whatever. Learning rocks. We love campuses and universities.

Wesley has been working away, refining papers, writing and rewriting research statements, planning lectures (he started talking about his Energy, Technology, and Policy class one night and dreamed of it; he’s that excited), memorizing student names and faces, and planning the next month. September will teach us what our future life could be like. He has applications due (for academic positions), conference papers due, fellowship applications due (for post-docs), two conferences, class, normal research, etc. etc. etc. It’ll be an exciting adventure. I love watching his capacities expand. We’ve heard about some more academic openings this week. Not knowing means that we could go anywhere. Oh the possibilities, the places we’ll go, the people we’ll become.

Bats!

 First day of preschool