Reverence

is more than just quietly sitting. But folding your arms is a start. We pray at every meal. We pray before bed. We pray first thing in the morning. We pray in between. Levi and I prayed a lot this week as Wesley traveled (drove) to Nebraska, South Dakota, Iowa, Montana, and finally back here. The two of us went and stayed with the grandmas and grandpas because it made Wesley more comfortable. One morning when Levi wanted an early breakfast I opened my eyes after praying and this is what I found. Since then he's been a regular arm-folder, but not necessarily during or through prayer.

I've been a little lowgy for a while, which drives me nuts. When my body demands a slow day my brain and hands turn wild screaming, "Release me! Release me!" I've been creating classes in my head, thinking up writing prompts I don't follow, and filling out applications I probably won't send in. When I'm down physically I start to go crazy; boredom and I rarely enter the same room. Being the mother of a one-year-old it's almost impossible to be bored, and yet I'm still afraid of it. Afraid that I'll rut, loose my goals and priorities, and then loose precious teaching moments with my sweet boy. Thankfully, I married a man who helps me grasp my moments of reverence and refocus. Thankfully, I married a man who celebrates my quirks and understands my imperfections. And thankfully, I married a man who can look me in the eye and say, "Cassie, stop saying stupid things. We're fine." And then I remember--oh! We're much more than fine.

Happy Birthday Levi!

 Our little bug is one year old! How did this happen? All day Friday I watched the clock, thinking, "At this time last year my water broke..." "At this time last year my nurses switched..." "At this time last year we welcomed our first baby and were surprised to find that he definitely wasn't Zerin!" "At this time last year Levi came out of the NICU" "At this time last year I was so buzzed I could only drink cranberry juice and swoon all over Wes and our sweet baby."

Well, a year has lurched by us and I'm still swooning.

Even though he was peaked out sick on his birthday we

enjoyed ourselves by doing really fun things, like taking an extra bath, making the bed, eating hamburgers with the neighbors, going to Coldstone, playing catch, singing songs, and giving lots of slobbery kisses (no wonder we're sick!). He tried strawberries for the first time in the last few weeks and is hooked. While sick he wouldn't eat many solids, but he grabbed at the strawberries (even when he saw them in the fridge)--so we made a strawberry shortcake, celebrated, and went happily to bed.

In reflecting about this last wonderful year, I'm ashamed at how often I've complained, you know, tired, woozy, impatient, tired, tired, tired. There is a point where you (I) have to analyze the world a bit more closely and say, "My stars! I have a beautiful healthy baby! He loves me and I adore him. My husband is devoted to us and when we ask what our ideal life is we remember that we already have it!" Despite becoming a bit sleep deprived over the last year, waking up even a zillion times a night with our son is better than not having him. And one day he'll be 35 with his own baby and he'll wish he could crawl in his parents' bed and hide to get some sleep. Then I'll smile, give him a big squeeze and tell him how gorgeous his child is.

Until then, though, I'm happy to have a cuddle bug  who can throw anything like a maniac, loves books, and is always willing to appreciate music and his surroundings.

What a blessed mommy I am.

Why I Love Wyoming

Crowd Control

I think about my foibles often; usually in hopes of overcoming them. Since my senior year in high school I've struggled in crowds. Crowds = over 6 people, sometimes less. I clam up. I don't know what to say or I say things I regret. I'm awkward and nervous--mostly because my personality is not "shy" but I start feeling claustrophobic. This is particularly annoying in family gatherings which I am always excited to join and eagerly anticipate. Then the event arrives and I leave kicking myself. Alas. I'll get over it. 

Part of the issue may be my too-high expectations of life and everyone in it. It's nice to talk about ourselves, but can't we talk about large concepts? Somehow I've convinced myself that every conversation should be meaningful and thus change the world. No wonder my tongue trips. I love the idea of people getting together to banter over issues, to play games, to discuss books and concerns and plots to impact a larger sphere. I love the idea of crowds. Usually, though, in crowds there is less order and less purpose, so we talk about our lives in capsules: here's the summary without the meat, I'd hate to burden you with what actually matters to me. 

Granted, I wonder if keeping this blog is just another way to attempt overcoming my "crowd control" reflex and engage in a conversation that extends far beyond myself--yet here I am in a self-absorbed ramble! And so many of my entries here, as well as elsewhere, dwindle down to "woke up, changed diapers, read stories, danced in kitchen, laundry, clean house, dinner" when those are just the buttresses to what I'm thinking, worrying about, and wondering. 

So how does one make the hurdle and celebrate the group in all of its possibilities? 

Levi and Great great great...Grandpa Levi Newell Kendall

 Before we left Utah, we had to grab a few pictures of Levi and his namesake. 

The last time we came to this cemetery I was in labor.

Now the bug is almost a year old! 

We Moved!

For the summer, Wesley will work at a national lab (hurray!) doing biomass-energy-stuffIdon'tcompletelyunderstand....He was offered a few jobs the first Thursday of the month and by the next Thursday we'd sold a few things, packed over 12 boxes and bags of books (according to moving companies we're competing with people who have 5 bedroom homes!), heaved the recumbent bike and bookshelves and bed in a truck--and now we're in Idaho. For about ten weeks. My sister gets married August 5; by August 10 we'll be on our way to Texas.

Since moving, I've determined that we can let go of most of our stuff. I knew as soon as I flinched at our bike going up the cement stairs that I might be more attached to physical things than I should be. I don't want my focus to be on stuff. I don't want Levi's focus to be on stuff. As a result of being tired of packing and unpacking and this realization that I need a change, we're selling our washer and dryer, bike, bookshelves, etc. If you're desirous of any of our junk, just say.

And yes, I've debated about the books. We've only unpacked three boxes for the summer. I think they're coming with us, though.

The Joys of Bath Time