Mmmmmm....

Dad and his little ladies.

Happy Father.

Caught you just after working on your motorcycle. It goes without saying. You're simply the best.

And to my dad: ditto, and I miss ya.

Have you kissed your baby's neck today? How about your husband's?

11 months today.

This photo is from a few days ago. Kind of out of focus, but I love it anyway.

Happy 33rd.

I felt like going back a few years.... The first one is at a cabin in Idaho. Second is our very first Christmas together. Third is Jake at our Arizona condo and fourth is us in San Francisco when Grace was 10 months old. Same age as our youngest is now.

Happy Birthday to my Jakies. I absolutely could not live without you.

Love Day

I cannot ever put into words how I feel about you, Jake.

I would write you a love poem if I could. But then they'd just make fun of us, wouldn't they?

I'll say this. There has never, and there never will be, anyone I love more than you. You are the beginning, the end, and all the in-between. You're my super-crazy best friend and I love you times a thousand.

xoxo
Sarie.

All you need.

Thank you for the comments and compliments, for the site feedback, for the emails, facebook posts, facebook likes and blog posts. Thank you for all the support! I am beyond humbled. This project has been working its way out of me for a long, long time and I finally came to a point in my life where I could make it work. So, thank you.

Speaking of work... I am constantly amazed how our men work so hard... how we can marry them as young twenty-somethings, not knowing exactly what they signed up for. I doubt that Jake fully realized that someday, ten years later, he will work at the office until 8, getting tacos on the way home, and five minutes after he kisses his daughters' little heads goodnight, he'll set up his workstation at the teeny kitchen table.

Eyes stinging and cheerios crunching under his feet, he writes trucking schedules and orders materials. He feels the pressure and meets it head-on. He's the un-sung hero to four little girls who will one day believe, with all their hearts, that their daddy can do no wrong.

Life is tougher than we expected. But we have each other and we have our girls. Healthy, strong and thriving.

Long ago, Jake told me this song was ours... and I've loved it ever since.

Tea Time.

Jake

Reasons why I love you:

1. You're a perfect Dad, an excellent Dad. The best Dad there is.

2. You have a lot of really good ideas.

3. You love to snuggle us, and especially, me.

4. You were young with me.

5. You love babies just as much as me.

6. You crack me up {almost} every day.

7. We think the same and we think opposite. Both are good.

8. We're in this together. We both just know... our cores are the same.

9. You're a perfectionist.

10. You want to be close to our girls. You want to love them and take care of them just as much as I do. And for that, I love you the most.

Staying Young.

Jake riding his motorcycle at Little Sahara dunes, Utah.

Let's just cross our fingers he doesn't get hurt...

Sunday Photos

These photos are grainy, I took them at dusk right after their bath and right before I sent them to bed. Lillie's got binkies and a bottle, Ruby's got a bruise on her forehead, Grace is loving her matching pajamas and Matilda looks like she's 9 months old.

As for Jake, I didn't know where life would lead us when we got married. We were only kids, with lofty dreams and all the freedom in the world. There's been twists and free falls. There's been heaven and something in between. I didn't know how I could love him more than I did the day we were married in the Oakland temple, me a little lightweight in my wedding dress I bought at the mall. He wearing a tux and all smiles. We held our breath.

And here we stand. These baby girls forever wedged in between us. Physically and emotionally. We hardly talk about anything else. Our barrels are full of them. And our reserves are empty. Being their parents takes everything we have and everything we will have.

But I have him. He is my home and rock and thunderclap and hot shower. My throat tightens as I look that this photo. I couldn't have married a man who would love my daughters more than he does.

No matter what he does, no matter what he says, I will forever love him for that. I know what I have and I try not to take it for granted.

A Love Story

Jake went to Home Depot by himself last night after the kids went to bed. Just a short trip to return something.

Today I got in the car with the kids to head down to 7-11 for slurpees. We turned the car on and what came blasting through the speakers?

WHAT I ASK YOU?

Taylor Swift. Specifically Taylor Swift's "Love Story".

ROMEO TAKE ME SOMEWHERE WE CAN BE ALONE!!!!!

Ya. He was listening to it last night on the way back from Home Depot. Havin' a little guy time. He swears he was just spacing out and that it was a coincidence. I think not.

It's a catchy tune!

I love it and him.

So much!!!

Made me laugh out loud. And I still am.

I LOVE YOU AND THAT'S ALL I REALLY KNOW.

IT'S A LOVE STORY BABY JUST SAY YES.

Gifts.

Jake's Father's day was nice and relaxing. We decided not to give each other gifts for Father's and Mother's day anymore. Special treatment and zero responsibilities that day as well as homemade cards from the kids and home cooked meals. That's what the day will now consist of. It all started with a realization that I don't want to get stuck home the day before Mother's day, babysitting the kids, while he's out shopping for something that I don't necessarily need. It's just so commercialized. Besides, it gives me a little more "wiggle room" when out shopping for myself another day. But shhhhhhhh!

It does make for the most relaxing day. No pressure of gift-giving, and me making sure he can really take a break (which is actually way more work than just handing him a present!!).

Also, there are about a thousand photos of Jake sleeping with the kids. I need to learn something from this...

It's good.

He stays up late worrying about things. That he's not doing enough. I usually good grief him the next day asking him what on earth he was doing staying up so late worrying.

He says he has a house full of girls, who else is going to take care of them?

I don't like to admit my dire femininity. Or admit that I really need to be taken care of. After all, aren't I an island? I could look after myself just fine before my brawny man came into the mix, thank you very much.

But at this point in my life, I find myself giving into all of it. Yes, think of ways to make us a fortune. Yes, make some phone calls in my behalf. Yes, take in the garbage cans. After so many years I have finally come to terms. I'll cook him some supper after he comes home from a long day at work. Because I care.

But let's be honest, I didn't even get up off the couch when he walked through the door tonight. I clocked out. I promptly requested he cook us girls some quesadillas. Grace ran up and plucked his phone from his pocket and started playing games (running the battery down), Ruby stormed down the hall crying (because she didn't get the phone first) and Lillie pulled at his pant leg and yelled at him incessantly to play doggy.

It's midnight. He fell asleep on the couch at 9. Tonight's not a night for worrying.

Seriously, I love the guy.

32

Jake,

Sometimes we talk about how much space there is between us compared to our newlywed days. How the girls have wedged their bodies and their hearts in between us, between our conversation and coherent thoughts, inside our rational ideas. There's no escaping them, and we've learned how to somewhat cling to the us, the two of us. But really, what would we be without our girls?

I remember the day you told me you wanted to marry me.

I remember the day we found out we were pregnant with Grace, the look on your face, me in my cut offs that day, both of us so young.

I remember the day she was born. How we both cried. How a bright heaviness was in the room, pulling us together, making our dreams come true, creating in just moments a bond we could never break. How you stayed up all night with her, holding and rocking. Her birth taught us how valuable we are to our own family, to our own God.

I remember moving with you. So many places. Getting the girls settled in their beds. Always that first night in our new place, staying up so late laughing, unpacking, arguing about little things, laughing later, living day after day in our new life.

I remember flying on airplanes with you. First to our honeymoon, alone, on our own little cloud, across the country. Then to Arizona, California, Florida, each place adding experience. Each child adding chaos and entertainment.

There are so many memories only you and I can recount. That's the special part.

Tonight I rocked Lillie in her room. It was a no-go. I gave her a pack of m&m's at Home Depot (I know, you told me not to!) and there was no way she was snoozing anytime soon. So I just rocked her for awhile. I heard your voice float down the hallway. So deep and familiar. So strong. How long in my life I wished for a big strong man in my house to have that voice, that deep one, that filled the air. Calming my nerves, making me feel loved.

I heard a higher version, an inflection saved for our daughters. One of them was out of her bed and on your lap at the computer. She talked with you and without hearing the words you said, I could tell you were caring about her, caressing her face, telling her she was loved and beautiful and worth so much.

This is precisely why I love you. If I could pinpoint it, it would be the love you have for me and our children. It wrenches my heart. It melts away your imperfections. It makes me love you madly, makes my heart beat strong, gives me chills.

I love you, of course, told you a million times. And if I had a bunch of money, I'd buy you a motorbike and a couple of timeshares.

Happy Birthday.

Missing something.

Do you think I need a new dustpan? Do you?

What possessed my husband to run over/step on/throw/smash (who really knows what happened out in the garage that night) my $3 dustpan? What might be the momentus events leading up to such destruction? Did this have to happen?

And the biggest question. Who leaves a smashed up dustpan leaning respectfully against the cement wall of the garage without-a-mention of it's demise? WHO? Just leaning there next to it's broom whistlin' dixie like nothing in the world is wrong.

So now I'm using this dustpan as is. Yes, I buy $10 per block mozzarella cheese but I don't take the time to replace my dustpan. That I use EVERY SINGLE DAY.

It's just the way my mind works (or doesn't).

But seriously, WHO? and WHY?

Great Endeavor

My little word to the wise:
Don't look at a photograph like this and listen to "Forever" by Ben Harper. Don't. Unless you want your face to look like you have a hangover tomorrow morning.

Do you want to know something amazing? Jake was working on his jeep tonight and up the rainy gutter flopped a catfish. It must have come from the lake just in our backyard. I pleaded with Jake to put it back into the lake, which involves a dangerous trudge through our "wild florida jungle" out back. You start to wonder what lives back there when you see a five-foot circular indentation in the tall weeds. What is that big? What is that heavy? I boycott the thought...

So we were discussing what to do with the fish so it wouldn't die anywhere close to our house (for the smell). My husband, the one who used to light scorpions on fire just for fun in his younger years, picked up the catfish between two pieces of cardboard (from the recycling bin endeavor that he so lovingly supports), gingerly walked all the way down to the shore, and let the little guy go, whiskers and all. He did it for me. For me and the house full of girls that would have cared for that fish immensely had they been awake.

I couldn't be more in love with him than at this very moment.

Quick.

Last night we had one of the girls up really late. Thirst, starvation and loneliness plagued her and the both of us gave in. She sat on Jake's knee on the couch and I nestled my back into the opposite corner and just watched them. They were playing rock-paper-scissors, but a much livelier version, containing hand signals, voyeurism and imaginary inventions.

She was laughing, loud, contagious, repetitive. He kept touching her hair, tucking it behind her ears. She was full of a bright light. She loves him. She learns about the world through he and I. I got scared then. Wondered if she'll stay close and listen to us. If she'll dye her luscious black hair someday. I know I'll be proud of her. I know I will cry at every mature turn she makes.

I wonder if they will ever know how much I watch them. Stare at them while they watch Ice Age and eat pretzels. Watch the light bounce down their forehead, cheeks and lips like a waterfall. How often I position the rear view mirror so I can watch my girls play and my baby fall asleep in her car seat.

I get a feeling that knocks me over, quick and stern. How fast time passes by.

Sleepy.

We're a church going family. It's hard to get up in the morning, hard to get the girls looking decent, but we attend every Sunday. Most Sundays, during the last two hours of church, Jake takes care of Lillie while I'm busy in Primary.

Yesterday when church was over, I gathered my books, children, scraps of paper and headed out to the foyer and waited. Jake was not at our meeting place. A long 20 minutes passed full of the older girls running around an empty chapel, Ruby jumping on the couch in the foyer before I could catch her and tons of other shenanigans. I began to really stretch my imagination of where Jake could be. See, he's not the kind to chat it up after the meetings. He gets out of there as fast as he possibly can.

So I walked down the hall. I listened for his voice. The building was practically empty by now. A few voices came around the corner, I looked, nope, not him. I started opening a few doors only to find empty classrooms. I stopped short at the end of the hall at the Mother's Lounge. I hesitated, wondered if there was any chance... I opened the door slowly.

The sight will forever be etched into the inside of my skull. Jake, on one of the recliners, hunched over, snoring, with Lillie asleep against his chest. I stopped and stared with my mouth wide open for ten seconds, just enough time for Jake to sense my presence and blink his eyes open wildly.

20 minutes, people.

Get. Real.