So cute, however...

In the land of photographing children, things often don't go as planned. They were so cute, looked so nice, yet things just didn't work out.

Jack wouldn't hold the baby or sit up. Ellie didn't want to be involved at all. Robbie didn't have a clue what was happening. Still, I think it was a moment worth sharing.

I just thought she looked so cute in this photo taken by her dad.

Useless trivia from the Lonsberry house: Robbie gets called "Small" by his brother and dad. Jack actually doesn't call him anything else. Ellie calls him "Baby." When he cries to alert us that he's awakened from a nap she says, "Mommy, baby crying, mommy." It sounds really cute.

Chapel groundbreaking

Our little branch became a ward a few months ago and we're getting a new building! Here's some useless trivia for my LDS friends: If it were still the early 1800s, Brighman Young would live in our ward boundaries. There you go. Anyway, we recently broke ground on the new chapel and our ceremonial groundbreaking managed to draw some of our community leaders to help toss out some dirt. Bob and I serve on our stake public relations committee and that is one of our challenges, how to normalize the Church in our communities, get us involved and create experiences where we mingle with community leaders. The calling gives me a chance to use all those journalism skills and can be incredibly time consuming. But, we're enjoying it.

Anyway, our bishop sent a letter asking for us all to wear church dress with a note that while the children would participate in the groundbreaking, they shouldn't get too dirty. Well, he changed his mind on church dress and only part of the ward got the message. I'll let you determine whether or not my kids got dirty.

Jack near construction equipment. Little boy heaven. Oddly, it was even harder to keep Ellie away from the big machines.


Here they are not getting dirty.

Stake President Cary Jensen helps Jack and Ellie fill baby food jars with groundbreaking dirt. None of them are getting dirty.

No dirt here, Mommy!

"They shouldn't get too dirty."

Prayers needed

Lots of people in my life could use some prayers right now.

First of all, some old friends of mine from Reno, Brian and Jami McCombs were just blessed with the birth of their third child, a boy, Ezra. However, he was diagnosed with a rare disorder called Pierre Robin Sequence which is a very small lower jaw, a retracted tongue, and cleft palate. Brian, Jami and the baby were flown to Salt Lake City's Primary Children's Hospital where they are awaiting surgery for Ezra's jaw. They have two little children at home. My heart goes out to them. I know God answers prayers and perhaps if you can think of them, it will help their prayers for Ezra be answered. For those of you who know them, you can check on Ezra's progress at ourmagnumopus.blogspot.com.

And pray for my family, specifically my Aunt Gail and cousins Jet, Joel and Chris and their families. My great Uncle Jerry passed away Monday evening. He was 67. His passing was something of a surprise to me. Apparently, he had been quietly fighting liver cancer. He hadn't told anyone except, of course, my aunt and Jet, and only him because they were staying at Jet's home coming to and from treatments. I guess the treatments wore him out and he came down with pneumonia recently and died from complications of that. I think the whole family is in a state of shock over losing our gentle giant. For the many of you who never met my uncle, he was a funny, kind man, a man's man. A cowboy. One of those men that "retires" just to keep working at whatever he could find to do. He rode horses and gardened, tinkered around with machines and rehab old Volkswagen Bugs. He loved the military channel and had a major stubborn streak about answering the telephone. I just can't say enough about him. I can't make it home for the funeral, so I will keep replaying the following scene in my mind.

We lasted visited home when Ellie was just 5 months old. She was born with a hemangioma on her head, a little cluster of blood vessels that pop up. Hers was the size of a dime on her temple and went away when she was about 7 months old. Anyway, I took Jack and Ellie to lunch at the International Cafe where I met my parents and Gail and Jerry for lunch. As they came in Jerry plopped down and looked at Ellie in my arms. He is ALWAYS on the lookout for a way to get my goat, to rib me over something. He is not cruel and would never try to hurt anyone's feelings. But, he looked at me and said, "Mandy, what the hell did you do that baby's head?"
I was a bit sensitive to people pointing out her little bump, but before I could say anything, Gail hit him and with a look of genuine horror said, "Jerry, she was born with that!"
For a good 30 seconds or so, his face fell. I could tell he was sorry he'd said it. But he had a sense of humor and in that time, I think everyone knew he hadn't meant anything. So, he realized he couldn't tease me about dropping her, but picked up where he left off and asked again, "Well, what the hell did you do that baby's head?" We all laughed. Perhaps that isn't as funny written as it was the day it happened, mostly because I can see the look on his face when he switched from genuine sorrow to realizing he could still tease me.

He was a wonderful, quiet man who will be so dearly missed. And my aunt's advice right now is to immediately give a hug to those you love because you never know when it might be your last chance. Sage advice.

Smiley Prince Robert

Hello, I'd like you all to meet Prince Robert the demanding. Like most newborns, he thinks the world revolves around him. Sadly for the rest of the family, most of the time, he's right. We're happy to report that Robbie has mellowed a ton and has learned a new trick: He smiles. A lot. Especially at 6:30 a.m. I am not a morning person. Thus, my children's habit of sleeping past 8 a.m. does not bother me one bit. Robbie's early bird habits, argh. However, it is really hard not to sit and grin back at him, no matter the hour. Cutie kid, though, eh?

Here he is getting serious.

And a cutie scrunchy face.

Harvest time

Well, we've been deeply engaged in trying to bring forth the fruits of the meager harvest we eek out in our little village home. This means I have a dehydrater full of celery (had to try something with it...), several jars of canned tomaotes (had to do something with them all...) and my personal favorite, jarred apple cider.

Bob planted apple trees in our yard long before we met. The entire time we've been married, I wished we had a way to salvage the rather wormy and otherwise buggy apples, but nothing came to mind. Enter our good friends, Dan and Rachel Howells, the local king and queen of harvest time. Rachel is a very frugal lady and when family members were helping to clean out her grandmother's house for a move, Rachel bypassed the dressers and other furniture for a cider press. It may be one of the few things of which my very modest friend is vocally proud. Anyone with access to an apple tree has pretty much set up camp at the Howells place for cider pressing and preservation lessons, including us. We borrowed their apple picker and Bob picked as many apples as he could off our two trees. We filled every container we had at the house and hauled it over. Every Tuesday night, we feed the missionaries and the college students that attend our ward. (There are three students and whomever they show up with....makes for interesting Tuesday evenings...) The students had a blast helping press cider last Tuesday, and Bob worked very hard to press our apples into five gallons of cider. That doesn't sound like much, really, but it took me two hours to process it. I am the proud owner of 21 quarts of apple cider, which I plan on drinking on special occasions through the winter and turning into jelly.

Bob writes about our doings here. Everyone else, proceed to the pictures.

The Process

Man picks apples. Wishes wife would stop taking pictures of everything.

Men press cider. That would be Dan Howells in the hat doing the hard work, turning that handle to chop the apples up. Sister Bennett is tossing apples in. Bob is turning the handle to press chopped apples into juice. Yes, this is a lot of work for a few gallons of juice.

This is not Ellie's first cider pressing rodeo. Last time we did this, I gave her a cup. Left to her own defenses, she figured out a new way of getting juice into her mouth. I don't think her binky ever tasted better.

Simple delights. There is a reason I call her my little fuzzy head.

College student and missionary labor helps churn out 20 gallons of cider. What these kids won't do for a free meal...

So, you bring the cider home. Put the kids/husband to bed. Start boiling cider. Before it boils over, you ladel it into hot jars. Put the lids on and they will seal themselves. There you have 21 quarts of lovely, preserved juice. Yummy!

any thoughts on leashes?

(Yes, I'm a hat mother...)

If there is one image of today that could be etched in my mind, it's of my daughter's bum running from me all day long. At the park, it was accompanied by a giggle as she tore toward a pond. Of course, she only did this as I sat down to nurse the baby and couldn't easily chase her. Just before bed, it was running from me, little arms cradling a jar of peanut butter as she yelled "pea-bu! Pea-bu!" The Ellie way of asking for a spoonful of peanut butter. The running was to keep Jack from her precious pea-bu!

I get so stressed when I dare take the kids out that Ellie is going to run into a road or finally think it's funny to walk down a slide. I find myself praying for winter. (And summer's are so short up here, that's pretty desperate.) The more I call her name, the funnier she thinks it is to run off. I never believed in leashes until today. Now, I'm pondering one....just for large outdoor areas where she could hurt herself in one of her impetuous dashes. Now that I've confessed my failure in parenting, any thoughts on this?

Oh well, at any rate, here are some pics of the kids and dog at the park today. We walked a roughly two-mile trail and picnicked. Jack and I used to spend just about every warm day in this particular park before the other two joined us. It has no park equipment, just trails, picnic shelters and a pond. In other words, little boy heaven. Today was a stroller full of leaves, pine cones and acorns, a dog who loped through the forest getting his energy out and plenty of exercise and sunshine for one little family for a spell. Until, like, tomorrow....

Bob hearts McCain/Palin

So, for the last week and one day, my husband has been out of town covering the national political conventions. I try not be green or even blue with envy. Here, we see Bob on the first day of the hurricane-truncated Republican convention in St. Paul, MN. (Don't even get me started on why an event years in the planning was cut short because of a possible storm more than a thousand miles away...) While you can't see them, Cindy McCain and Laura Bush are speaking in the background. At least that's his report. This is a cell phone picture, so he could be totally fibbing.

While this has been great fun for him, it has left me a little stir crazy at home with three (totally marvelous and beautiful) babies. So, earlier this week I called a dear friend of mine from college, Amee (Thompson) Longbottom. She and I studied journalism together in Reno. Anyway, she's now the wife of an Episcopalian priest, Rob, and they moved just four hours from me in far, far Upstate New York just across the river from Ottawa, Canada. Long story short, on a particularly rough day, I called and begged her to drive four hours and rescue my sanity. She obliged. Sadly, I never remembered to take a photo of her with the kids. But, from Friday night to Monday afternoon, I had conversation and that blessed extra set of hands. So, thank you Amee for being a fantastic friend. My kids adored her and perhaps it was her calm presence, but in the time she was here, Robbie started sleeping better through the day giving Mom a needed break to clean, play and of course, talk.

Sanity restored now on to dishes...