Welcome

This is our front door. Besides saying "Welcome to our house," it tells a lot of other things, too. It says there were loads of popsicles eaten and dripped there this summer. It displays Scott's new foliage arrangements, saying we're ready for fall. The door, with its unfinished brushstrokes says Circe is great at getting projects 90% finished. You can see we have a cat who lives outside. Above the door, lettering on the window reads, "Love is spoken here," because that's what I hope.

Doorsteps are a place for hope, love and friendship. Coming home, my first glimpse of the doorstep can make my heart surge, if I catch sight of a brightly wrapped gift or a plate of cookies from a neighbor or a package that was too big to fit in the mailbox. It's a place to slip an invitation or a thank-you note under the mat or in the doorjamb. Sometimes I find a book I've lent, or a bowl returned. The other day, I dropped off a little red Croc on Sarah's doorstep. When I got home, Sarah had hung a bag of Ari's clothes on our doorknob. Those are the mundane and simple symbols of friendship that anchor us to what matters. Ripples on the surface of deep waters.

The doorstep is also a place of anticipation. It's where you wait for the reaction of the person on the other side of the door. I hope to be the kind of person who opens the door wide. I hope to smile, to welcome you in, to offer you something to make you feel like you never even needed to knock. You could have walked right in. Even if my doorstep is messy, or the cat has left a gorey gift on the mat, or there's chaos inside, I hope my friends and family believe, standing on my doorstep, that when the door swings open, something good is about to happen.

When you ring my doorbell, please believe three things: Sometimes the windows really are clean, sometimes you don't have to trip over bikes to get here, and always, always, I'm so glad you're standing there. Just wait one more second while I throw some of these shoes and homework papers in the basket. Because there's one more thing I want you to believe: That the home inside my doorstep is never less than perfect. If you don't believe that, well, you must be someone who knows me pretty well, and that's better than believing in perfection.

In First Place

If Araceli could get any happier, she'd float right off the planet. Her first grade teacher plays the piano in class and sings! From 3:35 to bedtime, this song assaults my ears non-stop:
A peanut sat on a railroad track, its heart was all a-FLUTTAH!
Around the bend came Number Ten. Toot toot! Peanut BUTTAH!

Ari could so easily be a Disney princess. She's not afraid to burst out in song at the most inopportune times, and now she has awesome lyrics to belt out. Singing time is definitely Ari's favorite part of school. The only snafu this first week has been lunchtime. The first day, Ari's report was, "Mom, everyone was STARING at me when I ate my lunch!" The second day, Ari told me, "Only one girl was staring at me while I ate my lunch. It was while she was eating a carrot, and she looked like she hated me!" After I went to school and beat up the carrot girl, things went much better. Of course I'm kidding...I think Ari managed to eat lunch without drawing too much attention the third day. Do you think maybe the kids were staring at the astonishing array of colors in Araceli's outfit?

Even using so many brain cells for school, Araceli had creativity left over to take the paper towel holder and turn it into a "very special doll." She used a hair net, a marker, spoons, a bottle cap and lots of scotch tape. Just a quick little way to ruin a hair net and get permanent marker all over the paper towel thing. I'd rather have an artistic sculpture than a boring old paper towel holder anyway.

Gipsy Kings

I'm all for quality family time. More important for kids who come from families of seven, however, is one-on-one time. I've seen kids in family packs, my own included, being herded around Lagoon or the zoo, wearing glum faces that read, "My mom made me come." Not all family outings are that painful; most are really fun. But sometimes a child needs to get away from the herd and have an identity beyond "one of the Dopp kids."

Last night was Ruby's night. She and I left straight from ballet and drove up Parley's Canyon, out of the valley and away from our daily lives, to Deer Valley. Our destination was the Gipsy Kings concert. My favorite musicians, live in the mountains, with my little guitarist by my side to share my passion for flamenco-style guitar. The band was less gritty and organic than I remembered from last time, and more produced, but the crowd was amazing and Ruby's enthusiasm kept me from drowning in nostalgia, seeing the music through her eyes. Some of my best-loved songs were made entirely new by this experience.

By the end, Ruby was up, dancing and shouting for more songs. I have to say, Ruby looked beautiful in the alpenglow, with her freckles and luminous hair. The mountains make you notice the sublime, I guess. It was so renewing to spread our picnic out on a blanket and hang out with Ruby as if she were my one and only child. Every kid needs that attention, and Ruby took full advantage of it, talking to me about school and ballet and her guitar goals. After the concert, we stayed in Park City overnight at my parents' condo. I tucked Ruby in the big bed all by herself, and stayed up reading my book.

This morning we came down the canyon early to re-enter real life. Now, with Ruby at school with all the others, I have in my mind her point of view, her 4th grade perspective. All the things that are in her heart are present in my mind. The challenge and joy of having lots of little ones is seeing the world from so many perspectives simultaneously. Thanks, Ruby, for taking me back to the fourth grade. I love it there.

The Party's Over

We all resist change. The day school ended in June, I was resistant. I was apprehensive because I loved my routine, and it was all about to change. Too bad the summer turned out so perfectly wonderful, because now I'm hating change again. I have to remind myself that I love fall, that driving the kids to their lessons and helping with homework is my specialty, that it's exciting to be embarking on another school year. I remind myself of these truths as the kids walk away, up the street, pulling my heartstrings tighter and tighter with each step. Really, I want to say, "Stop! Let's not do this. I'm calling and cancelling it all, and we're moving to Mexico where we'll run a surf shop all year long."

But I let them go because I'd be miserable in Mexico where the washers and dryers are tiny and the pace is so slow. I'd want to scream by the time the first siesta rolled around. Besides, when I finally get the crisp, collegiate excitement of fall and back-to-school in my veins, I'll be in heaven all over again. The girls were so shiny-happy this morning. Now it's only 9:30 and almost all of the day's practicing is done, Golda, Ruby and Ari are gone and Freestone is waiting for his turn. I'm starting to like this routine already. I might leave claw marks on the swimming pool, but the fall breeze will blow me like a leaf, right into the thick of the school year. Yep, the breeze is starting to pick up. Have fun at school, little ones!

The Mysterious Case of the Missing Ring

When I say "missing," you all assume yet another one of your kids' shoes or swimsuits has disappeared into the black hole that is our household. Not this time. The Mysterious Case of the Missing Ring was Golda and Ruby's latest dramatic endeavor. It ran Thursday afternoon through Thursday night at a local community center, so it didn't break any records for longest run, but it was really cute. Golda was Miss Scarlett and Ruby was Julia. The twist at the end - I can tell you now that it's over - was that the "ring" was actually a cell phone. The cast members were very secretive about the ending. It was a mystery, after all. Thanks to the Jennie Dopps, the Nikki Taylors, the Aunt Tricias and the Coco and Bills of the world for supporting the girls. It's always uplifting to see those familiar faces in the audience. On a related note, thanks to Coco for lending us several flashlights as props. Some of the first ones are probably under Freestone's bed, but Coco never seems to run out of whatever it is we need at the time, no matter how many of them have already disappeared into...the black hole that is our household. Hey, there's an idea for a play. I'll have to get Golda and Ruby going on writing the script...

TAG

SWS has tagged me...

JOYS

Life. All of it. Living in a beautiful place. Having great kids. Being married to Scott. Being so close to family. Taking trips with the kids. Having friends who lift me up and share my life. Reading. Eating ice cream late at night.
FEAR

My kids being hurt.

OBSESSIONS

Parenting. Am I doing it right? Could I be doing it better? Are my kids nice? Are they accomplishing enough? How are they turning out? Am I a good mom for each of them individually? Do they feel like I'm paying attention? Why can't I do better? Do I make them feel respected and strong when I interact with them? Do they know I love them? Am I giving them the skills they need to develop self-discipline? Are they practicing enough? Should I be helping them more? Are they working enough? Are they playing enough? Am I remembering to feed them? See, I'm obsessed.

SURPRISING FACTS

If there was anything that could surprise any of you, it would probably be something I wouldn't want to tell. Let's see...whenever I'm sick or depressed, I HAVE to have apricot nectar. It's so comforting, for some reason. I think it's a quirk I've passed on to my kids. Freestone calls it "runny nose medicine."


INTERESTING FACT ABOUT SARAH

The thing I admire most about Sarah is her determination. Most mornings growing up, Sarah was up before the rest of us, either at piano or harp lessons or mucking out stalls. Before it got light outside. Whether it was conquering a new piano piece that she absolutely hated or finishing a daunting book (Of Human Bondage), she would not quit. If I knew my kids would turn out exactly like Sarah, I wouldn't obsess so much! :)


OK, I'm going to tag My Three Cubans, AKA my cousin Sarah. I love your new blog!

Baby Boy

My kindergarten baby and I went on a special date today, to get his hair cut for the first day of school. The car is a gold mine for talking to my girls when it's just one-on-one, driving to lessons. Golda, Ruby and Ari all love to open up in the car and talk about their feelings as they do their buns or shuffle their music.

So I thought I'd get Freestone alone in the car and have a heart-to-heart talk with him about the giant step of going off to kindergarten without me. I'd say, "Freestone, how do you feel about starting kindergarten next week?"

Freestone would answer, "You know, Mom, I feel prepared going in. My preschool teachers have done a great job teaching me the alphabet and how to get along with others. There's some anxiety, but I'm just going to go in there and leave it all on the reading rug. I'm going to give it a hundred and ten percent, especially at recess."

Then he'd cry a little and tell me that he's scared to go without his mama. At that point, I would comfort him and tell him Daddy and I would be right there if he needed us, but I was sure he'd have an awesome time. Then Free would put on a brave face, wipe away a tear, nod and say, "Thanks, Mom. I'll be fine."

Well, if you've ever met a five-year-old boy, you're pretty sure it didn't pan out that way. Alone in the car with my newly-shorn son looking so dapper, I said, "So, Freestone, how do you feel about starting kindergarten next week!?!"
"Good."
"What do you think it's going to be like?"
"Dumb."
"What's the first thing you're going to do when you get to school?"
"Go inside."
"Do you think you'll look for your name on a desk?"
"Mom. Did you know Henry can karate chop a pretzel in HALF!?!"
"Wow! Are you excited about kindergarten?"
"In HALF!!!!"

Apparently, he's going to be just fine. Now, who wants to ride in the car with ME after I drop him off?

The End is Near

To Buy:

Alarm clocks

No. 2 pencils, crayons

Backpacks

Shoes and socks

Brown bags, thermos

Storage bin for swimsuits, towels

Five days until school starts. Moms are beginning to fall into two camps: giddy and excited or dejected and sad. I'm squarely in the second camp. I love summer. Fall has never come so fast, and suddenly it's time for cool breezes and school shopping.

Which camp are you in? What will you look like on the first day of school?!

Adios, Dora

Dora the Explorer is not my friend anymore. I liked her when she used to teach my kids how to be enthusiastic in Spanish and what it sounds like when you click on stuff on the computer. But now she won't leave me alone. She is everywhere I go. On TV, I've realized all she does is teach my kids to sit on their derrieres and shout, "The map! The map!" Educational? Not as big of an education as I got when I realized it's mandatory that every article of clothing sold in stores, size 6X and under, must have Dora the Explorer on it. Every sock, every belt, every backpack. Seems Dora is also teaching my kids about consumerism.

I've had to tell Dora that she is no longer welcome in my home. If she rings he doorbell, we politely tell her we can't play. Ever. She is going to have to find some new kids to help her get over the bridge and up the mountain. Oh, and Dora? Get a haircut!!

Do You Believe in Destiny?

Who Wants This Book?

Here, Paige! This might help you...I thought it would be fun to give away my copy of Breaking Dawn. I got it at Borders in Logan the day it came out, along with every other person in line at the check-out. I read it, loved it, passed it along to my sis-in-law, got it back, and now it's just sitting there. I never keep books because I want them to have a life beyond collecting dust in my house.

To enter the giveaway, you have to come up with a name. I'm writing a story, just for fun, just to entertain Scott and my family, and the main character needs a name. He's tall, has long limbs, is very sensitive, but a little abrasive, and loves nature.

Leave me a comment with your idea for the name. I'll tell you who won tomorrow. Or maybe Sunday, and send the book out Monday. Then I'll put the first page of the story on my blog so you can give me your constructive criticism. Thanks, friends!

Fashionista

Does anybody need a happy, enthusiastic, easy-to-please six year old to shop with? I have the perfect girl. I've found my shopping soulmate, but I can let you borrow her if you're tired of shopping with kids who say, "That shirt is a little bit too blue. Let's keep looking." Or, "Maybe I should try on a few more skirts." Those are the kids that make my feet suddenly feel tired, or my head hot, just like when I was a little kid being dragged around Trolley Square. Thank heavens Scott does most of the shopping. Today, though, Ari reminded me it was high time for a special date just for her. She had it all planned out, and predictably, it sounded exactly like what Golda and Ruby got to do recently. Go to the mall. Buy stuff. Get Chinese food.

First stop, Macy's. I went straight to the clearance rack, held up the most colorful shirt and Ari said, "Yes! YES! Let's buy it!" Wow. Another shirt. Ditto. Her style is bright colors and layers. Matching stifles her creativity. She would have made an excellent Bennetton model back in the '80's. I'm loving this kid! Before you start thinking she's perfect, let me tell you, if she's not insanely happy, she's a screaming maniac, full of frustration and aggression. But not today! Today, she skipped along by my side, making pleasant conversation.

With Ari's enthusiasm and non-pickiness, I opted for another store. Now, I know this never happens to anyone else: Picking out leggings at Children's Place, I heard a voice ask, "Do we have a Children's Place card?" It was Scott, buying denim skirts for Golda and Ruby. Nobody who knows Scott is surprised, right? We might have to have an intervention. A man voluntarily shopping? Before noon?

Scott and I double-teamed Ari, holding stuff up for her approval. She's so insanely cheerful and easy to please, we had a whole wardrobe at the checkout withing four minutes, Ari manic with delight.

After the mandatory stop for Chinese food, our mission was accomplished. When we got home, Ari spread out all her clothes on the bed, just like Golda and Ruby. My little fashionista is ready to take first grade by storm. Watch out, world!

Pop Culture

You know you've turned a corner towards disaster when the kids start saying, with popsicle juice oozing out of their mouths, "I'm ready for my next popsicle," instead of "Can I have another popsicle?"

It's come to kids sucking the juice out of unfrozen otter pops. We're on the verge of complete anarchy here. I hope all the things they say about red dye are untrue. I hope it makes kids really, really smart!

The China Contingent

This precious picture is for the moms who forgot their cameras at Liberty Park yesterday. All this adorableness in one place was absolutely delightful. Look at all their sweet faces. These girls are so beautiful! It was fun to see Xanthe's friend Libby Mei, who lived at the same orphanage as Xanthe. Libby is only two weeks older than Xanthe, so they have literally known each other since Xanthe was four days old and arrived at the orphanage. Not that either of them was aware of it at the time! They may have slept in the same room their first year. sorry, Libby! I know Xanthe is a restless sleeper and those cribs are side by side!

My cousin Sarah brought her boys to balance out the equation. Talk about yin and yang...Alex, in the 95th percentile, towered over his playmates, most of whom are barely on the chart at the 5 percentile. Alex was like the bodyguard! So cute, all of them. Getting together with the other moms made me realize how vitally important it is for me to communicate with them and find that Xanthe's hang-ups are typical. It's great to have that affirmation. I regret not taking advantage of it more over the past two years. Thanks, moms!

o8-o8-o8

Everything looks brighter, more inspiring and more incredible after the Olympic Opening Ceremonies. The impossible seems attainable, and the Human spirit has shown its best side, making Humanity seem ingenious, wise and peace-loving. If we could hold onto that ideal, our eyes would be open to so much more.

Of all the moments where I stared in wonder during the opening ceremonies, just a few keep touching my heart. I loved the lone Palestinian athlete, Nader Almassri, carrying his country's flag with fear, pride and insecurity written on his face. He walked solo into the world's arena, where most people only know of his people's most radical terrorists, the PLO. Waiting to be judged by the crowd must have been terrifying. Add the fact that he prepared for the Olympics without the benefit of even an Olympic-sized pool to train in. He carried a whole nation's pride on his ill-equipped shoulders, and for that, he is a hero.

Another image that spoke volumes was the Japanese contingent, each one of them carrying both a Japanese flag and a Chinese flag, as if to erase centuries of animosity between the two nations. What a brilliant statement of the Olympic spirit.

I wanted to give a medal to Lopez Lomong, an American runner who was one of the "Lost Boys" of Sudan. He has already run far enough, just running from genocide and deprivation, to earn a place in history. A Sudanese representing the U. S. in Beijing is absolutely remarkable in 2008. It gives me hope that we can overcome violence.

When I see the humble pride the Chinese have in these games, the intense preparation the athletes have endured, the incomparable way they are pulling off these Olympics, I feel a sense of kinship with them. Their story is Xanthe's story, and therefore, ours. Through the generations, part of our family will be Chinese-American, forever. That is a legacy Xanthe brought with her as a gift to us, to tie us to a people who have thousands of years of ingenuity, strength and wisdom behind them, pushing them into the future ahead of the rest of us. I am proud of and awed by the Chinese as a people. Take a closer look beyond politics and you'll be humbled, too.

Someday

Someday all my windows will be clean and see-through. If anyone leaves a fingerprint, it won't be covered in jam, and I definitely won't have to Windex spit off the doors hourly.

Someday there won't be anybody around to sneak a fistful of Shredded Wheats into the car immediately after I vacuum it. Nobody will ever get frustrated or cry or scream. I'll always listen to NPR in the car, turned down to a nice, quiet level. My sunglasses will always be right there in the holder where they belong and I'll be able to leave pens in plain sight without fear of an art attack.

Someday I won't come home to find that the kids have hauled a 500 pound box of Halloween costumes up from the basement and tried on every one of them. Someday my makeup will be used on my face instead of everyone else's and my lipstick certainly will not be used to decorate the couch or the ceiling of the car.

Someday the lawn won't be completely littered with popsicle sticks at the end of the day. I'll stop finding the freezer door wide open. My shoes will never stick to the floor and if I mop, you won't find orange puddles everywhere ten minutes later.

Someday there won't be glue stuck to the counter and we'll have a table that isn't permanently covered with paint spills. I'll have a nice tablecloth that hardly ever gets dirty. Two shelves of our pantry won't be devoted to dried-up Play-Doh, random beads and stacks of paper, each one with a single crayon mark on it.

Someday nobody will steal my camera and use it to take 48 pictures of her bun on the first day of ballet. I won't have to drive down that dang alley someday, and I'll never again have to listen in helpless pain while a little dancer sobs inconsolably all the way home because she can't see that she's beautiful.

Someday all the water I put in the tub won't end up on the floor, and nobody will overflow the bathtub and still come out of it with a dirty face. I won't carry wipes and I'll never be sticky, never have chocolate cake batter on the front of my shirt.

Someday, our silverware drawer will always be full because nobody will take all the spoons to the backyard to dig dirt for their "galaxy far far away." And the white dishtowels won't be buried under the dirt in that galaxy.

Someday nobody will need me to get them a Band-Aid or cool their fevers or hold them when they fall. If I lock the bathroom door or pick up the phone, nobody will come running. My lap won't be prime real estate, and my shoulder will be dry and drool-free.
Someday we won't have to read bedtime stories or listen to problems that have arisen during the day. We won't have to do all that tucking in and prayers and "I love you" stuff.

I'm thankful that "someday" is a long way off.

Heart and Soul

There is nothing better than a double batch of family to fill up your soul and fortify your heart.

On Friday, I got to do one of my all-time favorite things: Throw a bunch of kids in the car and go. Any trip that requires at least one rendition of "On the Road Again" counts as a trip. Scott drove up to the cabin (AKA "The Lot") with Michelle, so I got to bring my kids and Jake. I don't know what it is about it just being me and the kids on a road trip, but I love it. Maybe I just like to be the boss. On one trip to Vegas, we left Scott home to "work" and drove to visit Jeremy and Jenny. I strapped Frestone to a little potty instead of his carseat, and by the time we got there, he was potty trained. Scott NEVER would have gone for that. (Really, who would?) He also doesn't approve of stopping for every chipmunk and eagle when we drive through Yellowstone, so sometimes he gets uninvited. :)

Anyway, we had the best time at The Lot marshing marshmallows, staying up until well past dark, seeing far more stars than we see at home and sleeping with the sound of the river in our ears. Saturday night we went to the best parade ever, in Preston. There were more horses than people trotting down Main Street and more farm equipment than floats, and it was magical.

Coming home, so many rolling hills were dotted with bales of hay, beautiful evidence of much hard work. The kids and I just finished reading Farmer Boy, so I made comments about the farmland ad nauseum. "Look! Those hay bales are the same as the ones Almanzo had to make by hand! Look! Cows just like the ones Almanzo milked every morning before the sun came up! Look! A horse that looks just like Almanzo's horse!" Surprisingly, the littles were interested. I think they really liked Farmer Boy.

Sunday, my DeBry cousins and their spunky, adorable kids came to celebrate Opa's birthday. He would have been 96, and he would have loved to see all the little children. He would have pushed on their heads and told them to stop growing. He would have put them through the tickle chamber. He would have taught them to love chocolate and shun vanilla, taught them how to paint and how to laugh and how to take off and go, seeking adventure.

There was a moment when Scott was standing in a group of my cousins, roaring with laughter, kids in dress-ups were pushing doll strollers all over the house, and I was snuggled up on the couch between Nana, Coco and Uncle Jim. It was the same feeling I had Friday night when all the kids were gathered around the fire at the Lot, all of them sticky with s'mores and building a memory they will have in common forever.

That's heaven. It's what fills your soul and fortifies your heart so that when you're out there in the world, you know there is a place that will always welcome you back. There's a campfire or a cabin or a kitchen where you belong. You are never alone.