I made bread this month, several times, even experimented with my old stand-by recipe. But I never did take any pictures and nothing turned out well enough to blog about. But check this out:
Last week when I was packing for our camping trip I felt myself thinking "I can't, I can't, I can't". A while ago my grandparents took my kids to McDonalds and in their Happy Meals were little Melmans that talked. For months I had three Melmans saying "I can't, I can't, I can't" all over my house. I finally got rid of the toys, but sometimes the phrase sneaks back into my mind. Yet, I'm determined not to be a Melman. I want to be a Marty. Marty wants to live in the WILD and he creates "the fun side of the island". Henry David Thoreau has a essay titled Walking and Adam has a copy in his truck. I read it this weekend and felt inspired to "live in the WILD" more often. Thoreau says things like: “How near to good is what is wild!” Life consists with wildness. The most alive is the wildest. Not yet subdued to man, its presence refreshes him. One who pressed forward incessantly and never rested from his labors, who grew fast and made infinite demands on life, would always find himself in a new country or wilderness, and surrounded by the raw material of life. He would be climbing over the prostrate stems of primitive forest-trees. I want to be wild. I'm sure any family/friends/associates reading this would laugh out loud at the thought of Mindi Bennett considering herself "wild". But perhaps Thoreau and I share a different definition of "wild". I don't want to be the mamma at the playground with tatoos and black lace Harley Davidson tank-tops (although I have one of those--not a tatoo, a Harley tank-top). I want to "make infinite demands on life...[and be] surrounded by the raw material of life." I want to be like my MIL who says she decided she was going to do more than just maintain, more than just barely stay afloat while raising 6 kids and running a household. I want to 'homestead' some land with my family; have goats and bees and gardens and orchards. But even here in my suburban house where the neighbors hear me shout: "Are you kidding me! Glitter all over the kitchen floor?!" or "Seriously, Sierra?! You can't stand on the couch while holding Ruby!!!" I think I'm surrounded with the wildness of life. The wildness of children, time management, nourishment, and self preservation are all mine. I am living in the WILD, the fun side of the island, even.
In December Adam heard about a guy who decided to not buy anything he deemed unnecessary for an entire year. No frivolous forms of entertainment, no new clothes, etc. We decided to try it. There was a car in our old neighborhood that had a bumper sticker that read "LESS STUFF MORE FUN". That has become our family motto. Kaia had to create a "family flag" for Joy School and we put that motto on there, along with our family scripture: "Wherefore, do not spend money for that which is of no worth, nor your labor for that which cannot satisfy. Hearken diligently unto me, and remember the words which I have spoken; and come unto the Holy One of Israel, and feast upon that which perisheth not, neither can be corrupted, and let your soul delight in fatness" (2 Nephi 9:51). That last line, "let your soul delight in fatness", is a favorite of mine. Jack Johnson has a great song (Gone) where he says:
Joseph F. and his company had stopped to camp one afternoon when a band “of drunken men rode into the camp … , cursing and swearing and threatening to kill any ‘Mormons’ that came within their path. … Some of the brethren when they heard them coming had cautiously gone into the brush down the creek, out of sight. Joseph F. was … gathering wood for the fire. [He walked up to the campfire to deposit his wood. One drunken ruffian with a pistol in his hand said] that it was his duty to [kill] every ‘Mormon’ he should meet. … In a loud, angry voice [he demanded from Joseph], ‘Are you a … Mormon?’ [Joseph ignored the gun aimed at him,] and looking the ruffian in the eye … boldly answered, ‘Yes siree; dyed in the wool, true blue, through and through.’
“This [surprised] the man; and … he grasped [Elder Smith’s] hand and said,
“ ‘Well, you are the … pleasantest man I ever met! Shake, young fellow, I am glad to see a man that stands up for his convictions’ ” (Smith, Life of Joseph F. Smith, p. 189). The man seemed to be the leader of the group, for when he rode off the rest followed him. President Smith said he fully expected to be shot when he admitted being a Mormon, but he did it anyway.
Ruby, Ruby, Ruby, Ruby is 1 month old.
The girls' soccer season ended recently. Kaia told me before her last game, "Mom, I don't want to do soccer again. I want to be a ballerina." Here is Kaia with her buddy, Cooper.
Sierra on the other hand, loved soccer and was the second most competitive/aggressive kid on the team (she was only outdone by the coach's son). 
I almost posted a before/after shot of my new hairstyle but the "before" (after I cut my bangs myself) was so hideous that I couldn't bring myself to put it on this here blog. But this is me "after", meaning after having a wonderfully professionally done hair cut by the talented Erica Niles. She said I wasn't the worst self-haircut she has tried to fix, more of a yellow than a red (to use her words), but it took almost an hour and a half to get the desired result. I like it a lot. So does Kaia, obviously.
I wish I could have gotten to the camera faster at this moment. Tristan came in my room while I was nursing and performed a hula dance. I think he saw his sisters dancing a few weeks ago and decided to give it a try. I laughed till I cried.
Oh, Kaia. I think she may have laughed till she cried when she saw this picture.
I was listening to this song today in the car and it got me feeling all artsy. I started daydreaming about getting back into painting. When nap time fell apart I strapped the baby into the Hug-a-Bub and pulled out the watercolors. As expected, Sierra and Kaia were soon at my side wanting to paint too. There is a book that has been on my night stand for way too long (The Creative Family by Amanda Soule) and in the few pages I've read there was a statement about not separating your kids from the "good" art supplies. Essentially she's saying let your kids create with the expensive stuff, not the 2 for $1 water colors. Well, I just can't bring myself to do that, although it would have saved me an argument and having to get all the kid paint down from the closet. Anyway, I painted unproductively for a while then spent twice as long cleaning up the painting mess my girls made. And all this made me think of a conversation between friends last night. We were discussing the talent of one friend's husband who is amazing on the piano/organ. Another friend mentioned that she would sure like to have a talent like that. Another friend's husband piped up and said something to the effect of, "Your talent could be Motherhood." Those words really stuck with me and reminds me of the quote I have on my fridge: "She who can paint a masterpiece or write a book that will influence millions deserves the admiration and the plaudits of mankind; but she who rears successfully a family of healthy, beautiful sons and daughters, whose influence will be felt through generations to come, ... deserves the highest honor that man can give, and the choicest blessings of God." --President David O. McKay
*Cut your own bangs. Especially if said hair cut takes place in the wee hours of the morning and is performed by a sleepy (and insane) momma with a pair of sewing scissors. The result will be a look from a husband that reads "that looks terrible, but I'm not going to say the words out loud". Always remember if you see a hair style in a movie, someone with a whole lot of training and talent created that hair cut. I was trying to go for this:
I'm supposed to be sleeping. Adam has the "three noisies" at the pool so you would think conditions would be perfect. I was up till who knows when trying to get Ruby to fall asleep last night, so I'm definitely tired. Nap time just didn't happen for anyone today so again...I'm tired. Sweet little Ruby was sleeping soundly until a few moments ago. I tried to nurse her back to sleep, but to no avail. Maybe it is because everyone in the neighborhood decided to mow and/or weed eat their lawn tonight. Is that a chain saw I hear too? I dunno. Adam took the camera to work a few days ago and I decided I was way behind on taking pics of Ruby. I started using Photo Booth here on my Mac. Something about the camera made Ruby's stomach decide it was time to eject buckets of milk. That is what is happening in the picture above. But to prove she is a delightful little cutie see photo below:
Reddish brown hair, blue eyes, light olive skin, delightful personality--maybe I'm biased. I think she is mad about her name, though. Oh, she likes "Ruby", we all do. It is the middle name that is the problem. I want her middle name to be "Josephine" (my dear Grammy's middle name--well, her birth certificate says "Joe" because her dad wanted her to be a boy, but her mother always called her "Barbara Josephine"). Adam wants Ruby's middle name to be "Danger". He is still upset with me for not letting him use that middle name for Tristan. Pfssshhh, like I'm in any shape to raise a "Danger" for Pete's sake.
