Berries & Bubbles & the last of the Belly

Few things in Oregon say "Hold on! Summer is coming, I promise!" like our amazing, freshy-fresh berries.  In some other states, berry picking might be met with a cocked head and furrowed brow, but in Oregon, we LOVE picking our own berries!

As a matter of fact, this little family loves it almost as much as we love eating the berries and yesterday we came home with a whopping $42 worth of berries {luckily I had a Groupon from last summer that was about to expire so it was kinda like getting free berries}Yes, it's excessive.  But we have company coming this week and I did stash some in the freezer for smoothies, and I made real fruit popsicles, and to be honest, we've eaten a ton already - especially the golden raspberries... have you ever seen something so darn pretty?  Sweeter and even more delightful than ever...

PS. We love berries so much, we did this IN THE RAIN. Imagine that.

P has also recently become bubble obsessed - thanks to Nana - and the two of them have been having a blast making the biggest bubbles they possibly can.

In other news, Beckett Jameson will be here in less than a week!  Of course I am still having the best Braxton Hicks but they're still not enough and I'm pretty sure he's going to hold tight until Friday morning.  Naturally, I have a to-do list a mile and a half long but, things in this house have a way of undoing themselves about 3 minutes after I've done them for the last time.  I guess I'm going to just wait until the last minute.  Here's to the last of the belly...

And from the rest of the Thorns... have a fancy Sunday, folks!

Things in the night

Why do things always feel worse in the middle of the night? Is it because we feel so alone? Isolated? Even with someone snoring next to you. Maybe that's even worse. Because in turmoil, you want to know that someone feels your angst too. And yet, they sleep right through it. Or maybe it's the darkness. Being in the dark has a way of making even the most ridiculous thoughts feel ominous. And true. Last night was one of those nights for me. After what felt like a particularly chaotic day, I couldn't wait to get into bed and drift away. And then, I didn't. I think partly it was hormonal: First, my nesting instincts went into overdrive. I was fighting the urge to get up and start organizing, cleaning, and moving heavy furniture. And then the anxiety kicked in. What if Paley caught herself in the drawstring of her roman curtains and it is wrapped around her neck? What if she had managed to open them and a stranger saw her and has taken her? What if she got lambie's yellow ribbon wrapped around her finger and it is turning purple? What if she got a battery out of a toy and she is choking? (these are real, true fears that raced through my mind last night. I would not make this crap up.) There were also smells. Nothing smelled right. The air. Our sheets. Chris' shirt. Things that normally soothe me back from the brink were just off. I wanted to strip the bed, start some laundry, ask Chris to change his pajamas, and maybe even take another bath. The windows were open in our room and it was just too cold. Not right for June. And yet I longed for the fan to be blowing on me. And so I tossed and turned. And I became annoyed. And more frustrated. And I wondered if this is just part of being a mom. Or pregnant. Or crazy. And I worried that I might never feel peaceful and full again. Nothing felt right, even though everything was as it always is. Our doors were locked, we were all safe (yes, I snuck downstairs and checked on P), and I finally got comfortable enough to doze right about the time the birds started singing. In the end, I'm pretty sure it was them that assured me that it was ok to go back to sleep. I was no longer alone. They were awake and would usher in the day and I was free to rest my post as nuerotic guard of the night. The end.

It's lake time, folks!

Ok, so I just posted an update all about me in all of my pregnant glory and then I remembered this:

In case you didn't know it, my husband is a water-man.  He loves anything that has to do with it - swimming in it, fishing it, floating on it... you get the idea.  And like any father who loves something, he is bound and determined to make sure that P loves it too.  So, began her fishing lessons...

First, we dug our own worms from our garden.  

Then, we headed to Nana & Poppy's...

Chris hooked the worms while P watched intently. For a minute.

And then she was bored so she started freeing the worms from their most certain, painful, death.

And finally it was time for the lesson.

Which ended up as less of a lesson and more of Chris sitting patiently with the pole while P wandered the dock chatting away about ducks and boats.

It ended well but P needed a brewsky just for the effort.  {just kidding!  No, we do not give our toddler beer.}

Hope you all had a lovely, summer weekend!