Friday ... and unbrushed hair. (Oh and the attic! The attic!)

I never even brushed Starling's hair on Friday. From her early (far too early), twilight stumbling up the stairs after Mette (who she shares a room with) until collapsing into sleep in Daisy's arms during the kids' Friday-night viewing of The Lego Movie, her hair wafted about her head--disheveled, unkempt, snarled, and one small section drawn into a spike where she had chewed on it for a spell when her coat hood had sent a few strands across her cheek and lips.

It was just a busy day. After dropping the kids to school, I began tackling all of the house--desperate, before an upcoming trip, to force every inch of it into full military order (despite having a home that has never remained alert and at attention for more than thirty minutes). Still. ... Bathrooms. Bedrooms. Laundry. I was going to do it all. And it was going to stay that way. 

Instead, I accomplished a small fraction of what I intended to, and then it was off to get Hans from kindergarten, and a phone call to Penny's school to check her out. Penny babysat while I ran to an appointment; and then, with Hans and Starling in tow, we went to look for shoes for Penny's upcoming prom (no luck), and to my mom's to have the dress her cousin lent her hemmed, and to the grocery store, before racing back to pick up kids from school, and then it was all wildness (wildness that more than undid whatever I'd accomplished earlier) as we helped Penny, Jesse and Mike get out the door with everything for a youth conference overnighter (including most of the food for everyone in attendance) while, simultaneously, I tried to get dinner fed to those who would be staying behind (I burnt the rice in my rushing) so they'd have time to eat before I needed to load them into the van to go pick up Daisy (who was coming up from Provo but leaving the car behind for Abe) at The Frontrunner station.

Goodness. Some days are so extra rushed. (So rushed you can't even brush your youngest's hair. Though, to be fair, if there wasn't always resistance to hair brushing from said youngest, I might have been able to fit it in.)

But it was all good and full things (and, as I mentioned, ended with Starling falling to sleep in her oldest sister's arms), and I got to end the day in my own warm bed (unlike Mike, Pen and Jesse who slept on thin pads in poorly heated cabins).

In any case. ...

(Well. Here's some lovely hair!)

Aah! Goldie needing a picture to submit with her mission papers! There are still quite a few steps to be done. But things like this make it feel like it really might happen!

Penny got asked to Prom.

More masks that you can't see out of.

A trip to Smith and Edward's with Mike.

My mom's attic. 

Here's what I wrote about it earlier on social media:

I know this generation of ours is all about minimalism and decluttering (and I’m kind of about it too [just ask my kids who look at me suspiciously whenever anything goes missing]) but there is something purely magical about this attic of my mom’s with its squeaky plywood floors, its bins of fabric and patterns, and enough fake flowers to fill a florist’s shop. My mom’s wedding gown is up there, along with the black lace from Paris (that she got to wear to a dance or two with my dad before wasps built a nest in the sleeve and ruined the fabric). There are probably a thousand dust covered books (a thousand? well several hundred at least), and all the holiday decorations (including the ceramic haunted house that we would surround each year with a small burr hedge). There’s the red snowsuit that all 11 of my mom’s toddlers wore, and the detailed and delicate, little dollhouse she made (that we only ever played with IN the attic because it was too precious for careless, routine use). And there are a thousand memories of laughing with siblings and friends (from childhood far into college) as we scoured the attic for costumes from every decade for every conceivable reason we ever felt to dress up (dances, ridiculous photoshoots, and even filming our own talk shows). Every now and then, when I’m at my mom’s, I go up there with one or two of my kids, crouch down to explore the farthest sides, feel the floor push under my feet, and recall what a beautiful life, clutter included, my parents made for me. 💫

We aren't far off from having another official driver. (And thank goodness! I have no kids who can drive living at home right now!) And, as you can see, I'm admirably diligent about actually recording her driving hours. 

Above is a photo of me, Mike and Abe at my nephew's wedding dinner. We sat at a table with my bothers Mark and Rob (and their wives). (Look at the pleasant expressions both brothers have. Haha.) It was the first time I'd seen Mark and Darlene since their return from serving a mission in Alaska, so it was a happy visit. 

And below: Anders happily holding one of the balloon creations Daisy made for them during her last weekend home.

And that is all.

(For a minute anyway.)