Dear Stefan

my darling boy,

I'm glad you are so happy. Your letters make me laugh and feed my heart for days. But by Tuesday night I'm starved for news of you.

One week until you leave for Russia! I'm sure you are more than ready to go. Your big meeting at the Marriott Center this Sunday has been splashed all over the internet. Supposedly President Monson is making some big announcement. What is there left to announce? Nine year olds going on missions? The church website says anyone interested in missionary work is invited, so I'll be driving down after church hoping to catch a glimpse of you with my camera and long range lens.

We've had a happy busy week. After moving the chicken coop, we ordered a new playset for the garden area. I know, I know, we just took that playset out three years ago, but it was WRONG. Mary was only six years old and she's missed the swings and slide ever since. Ben argued against buying a new one for two reasons: a. he doesn't think we should ever spend money and b. everyone is growing up so quickly.

Ben and I are looking in opposite directions these days-- he's excited for everyone to grow up and get married and I want to hang onto the little children still at home. Yes, our play set years are numbered, but I am desperately clinging to playing pretend, searching for fairies and twirling until you're too dizzy to walk.

As a grand wondrous Father's Day gift, Xander and Hans determined to assemble assemble the entire play set all on their own. You would have been so proud of them-- Xander up before dawn, arranging the pieces, Hans reading aloud the instructions, both of them glorying in using dad's drills and saws and wood clamps, Gabe and Mary begging to help in any way at all....and then drifting off into more interesting pursuits. I don't think the boys realized the enormity of the job until they were halfway through-- they must have put in 30 hours each. But it's done and it's lovely and Dad was oh-so-happy to NOT take part.

We did our best to spoil Dad on Father's Day. The attached video, croissants and chocolate for breakfast, a new pizza peel and electronic thermometer (although Dad calls them a spanking paddle and laser gun).

Grandpa Fritz and Grandma Maria joined us for dinner (pizza, of course) and Xander interviewed Grandpa Fritz with some new sound equipment.

In the middle of dinner, in typical Lehnardt fashion, the boys decided to build a giant bow and arrow out of sprinkler pipes. How do these things happen? I'll never know. One minute we're talking like normal people and the next they have a saw and a rope and are balancing pipes on lawn chairs. Amazingly, it worked pretty well, shooting the pipe across the yard and over the trampoline. Of course, just shooting a pipe wasn't enough and they had to light napkins on fire and shoot those too.

Father's Day can be tricky, so many of are fatherless and much of the world wants to pretend fathers don't matter. I know I don't need to tell you how lucky you are to have a father who adores you, who adores me and stands as an example of honor and sacrifice. I love the way he's always allowed you to be yourself-- he's never tried to make any of his children fit a certain mold or fulfill his childhood dreams. He just wants you to be YOU and to be happy. Actually, I must say (on a less serious note) the new Superman movie featured two awesome fathers. Kind of a perfect movie for Father's Day weekend. I loved the movie, loved the symbols of Christ (so many it was almost overplayed) but Clark Kent reminded me so much of you I cried through the entire first half.

But don't worry, I'm not crying all the time. We're laughing a lot, eating Mile High Raspberry Pie (sorry about that) and talking in bunny voices at every opportunity. I'm sitting at the kitchen counter right now (at 11:22 pm) with Hans and Xander on my left working on family history, Gabe on my right wrapped in a blanket, all eating bowls of delicious Golden Puffs. Cute Hans dressed all in plaids and argyle for his date playing croquet tonight and, wow, I just overheard an apology for a moment of impatience while building the playset. Life is good. Oh so good.

Hugs and kisses and lots of love,

mom

"You Can Be My Yoko Ono"

creating this video in the midst of a crazy week with six differing opinions made me pretty insecure about anyone liking the final result. But when I previewed it for Xander, he choked up a bit at the end, nodded his head and said, "It's good."

And I knew it was.

"You Can Be My Yoko Ono" Father's Day 2013 from Michelle Lehnardt on Vimeo.

step on a crack

Dear Stefan,

Perhaps I was overly optimistic in my last post about summer; these long days with everyone at home are lovely, but we're certainly going through an adjustment period. Lots of bossing and "you need to put your dish in the sink" and "shouldn't you be practicing right now?" None of it from me, but older siblings instructing the younger ones and vice versa. You know how it goes. Good thing you never did any of that. ;)

A game of Les Miserables in the backyard seemed picture perfect at first-- shouting "Can You Hear the People Sing?" and building a barricade by the chicken coop-- until someone (whom you can certainly guess) decided to make the game more authentic by killing off all the rebels.

Still, life at home is good and mostly happy. We especially enjoy the golden evenings watching bunny spring across the grass and dad tending to his sprinkler repair hobby.

So, my leg injury has revealed itself as a back injury. My first MRI last week was an adventure-- I got to wear comfy hospital scrubs and take a twenty minute nap while listening to music in a plastic coffin-- I don't know how a claustrophobic could handle it? Big signs in the changing room politely reminded patients the scrubs were only for use during examinations-- I guess lots of people were tempted like I was to simply wear them home.

My back is bad but not horrible. The first stage of treatment includes lots of goofy looking exercises and a very unfortunate drug called prednisone, more commonly referred to as grumpy pills. I've taken them before-- nearly every runner goes through a dose at some point-- and while they reduce irritation in the back or achilles or hamstring they make you incredibly irritable. Soothing the nerves while everything gets on your nerves.

Frankly, these pills terrify me. I try SO HARD to be nice. And the timing could scarcely be worse. But really, when is a good time to be mean?

On my doctor's advice, I've warned everyone at home and I'll be avoiding my friends for the rest of the week. I don't want to say anything rude or thoughtless; I'm determined to remain calm and patient.

Ah, I failed to share my summer theme with you:

I think I'll make a dozen different versions of this and hang them all over the house. For some silly reason, I sometimes think I have to be grumpy to get anyone to help me. I think it's a common brain cramp for moms. But happiness works just as well and is much more fun.

We miss you. Xander was looking through our London photos the other day and got all sniffly over the many many photos of you in the center of everything making us laugh.

Hugs and kisses.

Love, mom

p.s. The Man of Steel opens on Friday! I haven't been to a movie since Les Miserables, and just while I was puzzling over how to see this one, Mary received a birthday party invitation for Friday afternoon. Serendipity. Wish you could come with us; I do know your secret identity.

summer: unplugged

note: DesNes just published an article on this very subject -- Heber Valley Unplugged: Turn on Life challenge. The city council has created a reward system and a list of 101 activities. Pretty cool. Made me feel a little less silly about this post.

laughter bubbles up from the basement, music spills from the kitchen and the front and back doors slam open and shut as giddy, buoyant children race in and out, glide up and down the stairs-- what to do first? play house? run through sprinklers? a lemonade stand?

I unabashedly adore summer. Tis the season of roses and honeysuckle, afternoons reading on the back porch, corn and watermelon for dinner. After our long cold winter, stepping outside without a coat, walking across the grass in my bare feet, watching my garden come to life feel like miracles.

But summer with kids-- with it's long lazy days and freedom from school schedules-- requires some planning. We'd been talking about summer goals and wishes for a few weeks when Gabe excitedly told us over the dinner table, "Truman's family is doing no-electronics all summer! We should do it too!"

sometimes iPhone photos really are better

Sharing our goals and ambitions can feel a bit braggy (Truman's mom, Sarah, said she was afraid to tell anyone), but Gabe's response was the perfect example of why we should speak up. Hans wants to learn another language because his friend Paul loves languages, Mary wants to sew because her friend Isabelle took lessons, Gabe wants to learn the basics of piano because Ben did the same at his age and Xander is practicing lacrosse with his soccer friends.

Despite Sarah's hesitance to share their summer goals, she and her sister Emily set up a website detailing how they make an unplugged summer work: http://www.plugintolife.org/

I love their pledge:

Sarah and Emily's emphasize the "Yes" list much more than the "Don'ts." Yes, they're keeping the television and computer screens dark, but they are also crafting, volunteering, learning new skills. They have some great ideas, but they'd love contributors to their blog (and yes, they do catch the irony of blogging about an unplugged summer).

It's so much more fun to brainstorm everything we can do, rather than the don'ts. I'm also inspired by my brilliant friend Montserrat, who just compiled lists of indoor and outdoor games.

iPhone again 

You should have seen the kitchen after Xander and friends made cardboard helmets (or maybe not). But I accept the price of creativity.

The house may be messy, but what do we get in return? Hugs and kisses, games on the lawn, sunrises and sunset, the best hours of our day. Of our lives.

Happy summer days are like eating healthy-- it's not that hard when all your friends share their best recipes. I'd love to hear yours.

bunny love

Everything you ever wanted to know (or didn't) in under two minutes. WARNING: this video is only for silly people and not recommended for serious sorts.

bunny from Michelle Lehnardt on Vimeo.

p.s. more photos from the orchard. Which one should hang on my wall?

memory weekend

Every year, I hear the voices decrying the traditions surrounding Memorial Day, "It shouldn't be a day for barbecues, but for remembering our dead."

And while I absolutely believe we should remember those who have gone before-- especially our family members and the soldiers who gave their lives to make us free-- I think they'd be the first to tell us, "Go home, play, fire up the grill, make memories with the people you love."

The days before my mother's death, she went over and over old family stories, anecdotes, long-ago picnics, "We're so lucky," she said, "to have so many happy memories."

In the end, she pushed aside the hard times and remembered only the holidays, vacations, silly pranks. Nostalgia, they say, sifts through our varied experiences and chooses the best, happiest times. Our memories are who we are, and we all want to believe we have a happy story.

All the more reason to celebrate a three day weekend, visit the zoo (even Erik came along), play Frisbee in the yard and move the chicken coop on a whim (it was fun. really.).

Nostalgia sweetens with time, but even now our hours together (especially with Ben home!) shimmer with golden light.