Rough draft

We moved on Saturday. It's official. We are now on day three as citizens of Sunnyside, and so far it is treating us well. We love our new rental house and all of its quirks. We love the panoramic views of the gorgeous countryside sweeping around our little white house.

And then there's the canal road. After a mere eight miles of running on it, I am already spouting sonnets about its tranquility and beauty. While I was running into the sunrise this glorious fresh morning, I thought to myself, "this is what I've been missing." For six years I worked on reconciling myself to this dry, treeless foreign climate that is so different from what I grew up with (think jungles of west Tennessee). After three days in the countryside of Sunnyside, I have finally found an effortless, true love for this valley.

That sounds dramatic and bubble-headed and doe-eyed, but right now that is exactly how I feel! Ah, new love. The excitement and oblivion of new love are real! If new love is a condition, then I've got it bad. Or maybe this place really is as amazing as my new eyes and hopeful heart think, so that even when I'm used to that big bright sky curving down around me, painting the irrigation canal's water gold, it will still feel wonderful to call Sunnyside home.

The quiet restful feeling that comes in the wake of a big tumultuous decision involving lots of hard work is the best reward. Even though our house is only about a quarter of the way unpacked and organized, I feel so peaceful. We did it. It was big, scary, and very very hard, but we did it. We sold our house and moved away! Today is the closing date. I'm exhausted from all of the packing, lifting, loading, cleaning, arranging, and planning involved in moving, but it's a contented tired rather than the desperate tired I was feeling at this time a week ago. On Sunday morning, Jeff and I sat on the couch together and laughed our heads off for the first time in weeks. It was such good medicine for my soul! Stress has a way of taking over my brain and it was eating away at me all the way up until last night, when we closed the door to our house in Grandview for the last time.

Nothing turned out like we thought it would when we first decided to move three months ago, but I am so completely content with how things have turned out. Every now and then I have to banish some absurd adult-guilt about renting instead of buying a house. "It's such a waste of money!" my inner thoughts moan. But then I review the inspired chain of events that led us to this point and all of the new possibilities that are opening up to us here, and I remember that this is right. We are happy and this is right. That is what matters.

On Saturday a bunch of men from church came bright and early to help us move. Our new bishop brought his big trailer, and the elders quorum from our old ward loaded it up in less than 2 hours. Then we drove 20 minutes to our new house where we were met with a fresh crew of men from our new ward, who unloaded everything so fast I could hardly keep up with telling then where to put things in the house. Every now and then there was a lull in activity during which I stood on the front porch watching the kind men provide muscular service to us, and I felt a surge of emotion. Not necessarily a teary emotion (surprisingly), but more of the "divine hug" type of emotion. It may sound cheesy, but that's the best way I can describe how it felt: a divine hug. My heart felt full and happy and I felt loved, by both our new ward and the old, by both the men doing the heavy lifting and by their wives who sacrificed time with them so they could go do exhausting service on a holiday weekend. Most of all I felt loved by the Lord. He really does know and care about each one of us. Truth: serving others helps them feel God's love.

My sister texted me asking to see pictures of our new house today, and I found myself wanting to wait till it's all put together before I show pictures. But that could take a while, so here's the rough draft of our new house, stacks of boxes and all.

[ps: I did this entire blog post on my phone because our internet installation isn't till next week. Thumb typing is tricky.]

The front room: family room. I love having the piano in the main part of the house! In our last place, it was in the basement.

Looking into the dining area from the family room. The space was barely big enough for our table.

Kitchen! It's much smaller than our last kitchen, but that makes it easier to keep clean. I am reveling in downsizing--smaller means less work! We used to have a counter with stools plus the table in our old kitchen, and keeping both eating areas clean was like trying to win a two front war: impossible.

I spent six hours on Memorial Day organizing my new kitchen. Everything has a place, and it feels so satisfying.

The side door is by the kitchen, and the basement door is to the left of it on the other side of that box.

The girls'room. I think it's cozy. This house has new carpet and it's soft and thick.

Jay's room: reading amidst his boxes of books.

The main floor bathroom: functional and adequate. We love the counter height sink. Our previous house had vanit height sinks and counters in the bathrooms, which hit our 6 foot tall bodies around mid thigh. It is luxurious not to hunch while washing hands!

The office room is between the other two bedrooms on the main floor. The door visible leads into a giant bonus room above the garage.

4 stairs lead up into the bonus room, which we have made into a playroom. It is a great place for the kids to go be wild kids because the sound is relatively well contained in that back part of the house.

We considered making this room the master suite or the family room, but we're glad we didn't because it doesn't get it's fair share of air conditioning. There's easily a 20+ degree swing between the playroom and the basement on a hot day.

"Plenty of storage in the playroom!" Was our initial thought. But so far the kids just use those cabinets as playhouses.

As you can see, the kids wasted no time in decorating the playroom with its usual array of sharp, career ending Legos and assorted other items.

I would've loved these nooks and crannies as a kid.

Now down to the basement on the narrow, steep stairs. Hold on tight and lean back as you descend!

To the left of the basement stairs: the unromantic but functional laundry room.

To the right of the stairs: bathroom and Jeff's man cave.

Basement bathroom: bare minimum, but gets the job done.

Jeff's man cave

Opposite the man cave: garage door and a bonus walk-in pantry...

...be still, my heart.

And the second kitchen, complete with vintage mint colored cabinetry, metal sink unit, and sloping linoleum flooring. I adore it and hope to get a ruffly apron, A-line dress, high heels, and lipstick and cook up some meat and potatoes in it someday. 

Last basement room: our master suite! Wood paneling and floral carpet for the win. We actually love it because it's​a solid fifteen degrees cooler in the basement than upstairs, even on a 95 degree day. This basement is completely underground and it's cool. I shiver into my pajamas down there every night!

Boring picture, but that entire wall of our bedroom is closets. Jeff and I each have our own double door closet, and there's a third closet that I'm using for craft and sewing supplies. Laaaa!

Our bedroom is the dumping ground for undetermined boxes.

The garage! I know you're dying to see it.

It's pretty, isn't it? It smells funny, but the garage door is automatic and that, my friends, is a step up from our last garage.

We haven't lived here long enough for me to get adequate pristine morning pictures, but here's one of Jeff leaving on his bike for work this morning. He's that little speck at the end of the driveway. We are only three miles from the high school where Jeff works! He didn't have to leave till 6:45am this morning! 

The canal road is great for biking and running. Jeff acquainted Jay and Rose with their preliminary distance from home limits on the canal road, and they plan on biking there every day. Jay actually got up and rode his bike at 6am today.

Good morning from paradise. This front porch view has my heart.

So there it is: our new rental house. It is humble, tranquil, convenient, and cozy: everything we want our home to be.

Mother's Day and moving on

Moving is stressful and exhausting, and this time it's not just the packing-loading ordeal that's wearing us out. First we had to fix all of the things in our current house to bring it up to snuff for the buyers and then fix more things to appease the appraiser. On Monday morning after most of those repairs were done, I got the keys to our new house, and that afternoon I painted the exterior of our Grandview house (not the whole thing, just the many bald chipped patches). I started the process on Saturday for a few hours, then had to retire due to rain, wind, and sheer exhaustion. Painting is hard! It uses random unexpected muscles. I fell asleep sitting up on Saturday afternoon. On Monday I slaved for nearly three additional hours getting the plethora of patches painted, then dropped my brush in the trash and drove the kids straight to piano lessons. Somehow I managed to cook dinner for real that evening too, but the details are muddled. That was Monday. It was exhausting.

On Tuesday I loaded and drove our first stack of boxes over to the new house, and I have buried myself in boxes, dust, and packing ever since. It's disheartening when there is so much to do that it seems impossible to do alone, yet I keep plunking those drops in the bucket because this must be done before the end of the month. Even now, when I have made a sizeable dent in our possessions and hauled three jam-packed minivans full of stuff over to the new house, I look around and it seems as though everything is the same. Logical-Shaina says it's probably because I'm moving the non-essentials that we keep tucked away in closest and in cabinets, so my progress really is invisible. Desperate-Shaina says invisible progress is pointless and disheartening.

Another tricky part of this whole process is that there are still normal things like school and soccer practice and piano lessons and church responsibilities to take care of amidst the dusty stormy mess of packing and loading. And Jay turns the big EIGHT years old this Sunday. Since turning eight is a big deal, I agreed to let him have a birthday party--his second one ever--so that's happening too. Oh, and Jeff has work and track practice to coach AND a big district track meet to attend ALL DAY on Saturday, one week before our final furniture move day. I'm flying solo on this and all I can do is work hard and hope the strain doesn't break me. Or make me too mean-grouchy-emotional-hangry-impatient-tired to function as a nice wife and mother along the way.

People are so nice and offer to help, but I don't know what to ask them to do. Go through our stuff and figure out what to throw out and what to keep? Probably not. Pack for me? We don't have enough boxes so mostly I'm cramming stuff into our van and then dumping it at the house until we figure out where to store everything there. Rounding up enough boxes is too much work when you're only moving 20 minutes down the road. Other kind souls have offered to watch kids while I work. But Jay and Rose are in school, so they don't need it and Amber won't go to someone's house without them--she won't even go to nursery at church without a parent. Sigh. 

I am so tired--I almost cried three separate times today for three completely different reasons, and only resisted succumbing to tears by sheer willpower mingled with the desire to avoid the post-cry puffy-eyed headache. I am doing my best to hold it together and not transform into the aforementioned mean-grouchy-emotional-hangry-impatient-tired lady, but she rears her ugly head more than I would like her to, in spite of my best efforts.

I gave Jay a haircut this weekend, handsome boy.

It is tempting to shut myself off and only think about myself right now: how tired I am from all of the work I am doing by myself on top of all of my normal efforts, while everyone else simply keeps on going to school and waiting for dinner to appear while I slave slave slave at this beast that is moving. I lifted 300 pounds of books three times yesterday! Doesn't that qualify me to demand massages and praise and thanks and food from my family? A conversation Jeff and I had recently got me thinking and has helped get me through our move this far without retreating into my selfish shell. It all started with Mother's Day.

Basically, Mother's Day 2017 was one of the worst days ever, and I am not exaggerating. There are some challenges that bring us together (e.g. my pregnancy deathbed), and others that yank us apart. Mother's Day was the latter, if you can believe it. I woke up in delicious anticipation of the traditional cute cards from my kids and extra kindness all around. It didn't happen. We've never done anything elaborate like gifts or outings for Mother's Day; I was simply looking forward to a day where my family might feed my need for words of affirmation a bit more liberally than usual. But Mother's Day was just another Sunday, free of cards and lavish praise (or praise of any magnitude). That would have been fine if that particular day wasn't already labeled as a special day for people to do unspecified acts of kindness for their mothers. I found myself resenting the lack of perceived appreciation more and more as the day progressed with selfish, petulant thoughts like "Why didn't anyone go out of their way to make me feel special and loved? A little appreciation is not too much to ask, right? Especially on Mother's Day for goodness sake! They owe me! I deserve it!" I actually thought those words. I think I even said them too, in a venting phone conversation with my sister (cringe). After chewing over this dilemma for the past few days, I have come to the conclusion that if I have to ask for appreciation, then it IS too much to ask. Appreciation is only appreciation if it is voluntarily and willingly given.

Jeff had a bout of insomnia the night before Mother's Day, leaving him unnaturally drained, and he had a heap of extra burdens via church and extended family already on his shoulders that day, on top of Mother's Day (not to mention the buildup over the past few weeks of stresses from work, coaching, and moving). It cost him a monumental effort to shoulder all of his other responsibilities on Mother's Day and in his weakened state, he simply did not have the energy to go above and beyond to make my Mother's Day spectacular. He was kind and normal. He could've been cranky and tired, but he was placid and calm. Having dealt with prolonged sleep deprivation three times myself (newborns), I should have been impressed at Jeff's cool collected manner. Instead of understanding and applauding his efforts, however, I selfishly begged for more, more, more and complained when he had nothing more to give. He was making an effort, but because his efforts didn't match my expectations or those of past years, I did not notice them. We both could have communicated better in the situation, but neither one of us believed it was needed in the moment--a classic misunderstanding!

When I realized that if it hadn't been Mother's Day, I actually would have been patient and impressed with Jeff's efforts, the reality of my own selfishness slapped me in the face. Splat. Like a stinky slimy rotten fish. Like that fish, I felt absolutely rotten and resolved to stop asking for appreciation and expecting it. Should family members honor and appreciate their mothers, even outside Mother's Day? Absolutely. Should the mothers forcibly drag that appreciation out of them? Never.

In spite of all of the so-called unselfish things that I do every day as a wife and mother, I realized that my tendency was to hold back, testing my family and privately evaluating their ability to appreciate my sacrifices for them. "Will they say thank you? Will they notice?" I thought loftily. I held that thirst for thanks close and eventually it started to poison me. I was holding back kindness, burdening myself and my family with my angst, whether indirectly (like when my mood plummeted at yet another failure 'o family to act like they cared that I just cleaned something), or directly (when I demanded thanks and they were startled into giving it insincerely in response).

To me, the phrase "equally yoked" in reference to marriage always meant that the husband helps the wife around the house, even when he has been at work all day. That yoke is equal though; it pulls both ways. Jeff helps me and I help him. Even if I can't go help him teach high school French during the day, I can help him when he's home by meeting his needs while he meets mine. My entire ten years of marriage and eight years of motherhood were not necessarily defined by my thirst for thanks, but I definitely wasted a lot of time being grouchy about it.  

So in spite of the Mother's Day Debacle of 2017, I'm glad it happened (and that it's over!) because I needed the reminder (however reluctantly I received it initially) that we're all in this together, that even when it feels like I'm the only one working, I am never the only one working for the good of our family. We all have different roles and we all help. Everyone has a part to play. We need each other--strengths, weaknesses, and all. Of course I still love to be acknowledged and appreciated. I'm just working on removing the craving for it and replacing it with faith that my family will respond to my love with love of their own. No matter what, I will keep on working hard, loving unconditionally, and doing my part.

My part right now involves singlehandedly packing and transporting our non-furniture belongings to Sunnyside: daunting! And keeping Amber alive in spite of her wild exploratory experimentation: equally daunting!

Now on to the only Mother's Day tradition we managed to keep this year: a mom-with-kids picture. 

Squeeze! I love being able to wrap my arms around all of my kids and hug 'em hard. Long arms are good for something, and two armfuls of kids = the best. 

 Amber's Mother's Day gift to me was to fall asleep on me in church. It was sweet except my back was killing me on the unforgiving wooden-backed pews. 

Jeff's brother Sam surprised his mom with a one day visit on Mother's Day (he flew in from San Diego).

I said "act like you love me" and they each did, in their own way.

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PS: dear heart-o-gold Jeff has promised me a surprise make-up Mother's Day with all of the love, pampering, and appreciation I can hold. I think I'd rather have a surprise Mother's Day every year! It seems more in keeping with the original intent of Mother's Day: less duty and more sincerity in showing appreciation for mothers.

PPS: I didn't start out intending to write this long of post. Originally this was a placeholder "we're moving so adios for two weeks" type of post. I especially did not think I wanted to include such a personal and raw subject as this past Mother's Day. As usual, however, clarity formed as I typed and after a certain point I needed to put these thoughts into words to give them a more concrete meaning. I find that I appreciate honesty and delicacy in my online associations. This is me returning the favor, even if it does make me feel nervous and vulnerable to share. I have a wonderful life, but I think it's important to share the struggles in all their variety right along with the joys. The struggles make the joys shine brighter.

Floor plan

Yesterday during Sunday school (I actually got to go! Amber stayed home from church with sick Jeff), our teacher said something that really struck me. She said "when Joseph Smith was restoring the gospel, the Lord didn't give him a complete floor plan at the beginning; he gave him pieces along the way, little by little, as they were needed." I don't remember the point of that statement (sorry) but when she said the floor plan, the word caught my ear and the spirit opened a broader understanding of things I have been gnawing on and learning over the past few months. It wasn't an epiphany full of new knowledge; a bunch of thoughts that have been jangling around my brain just clicked into place.

The essence of what came to my mind at the mention of floor plans is that the Lord gives us line upon line, here a little there a little in LIFE just like he does for gospel knowledge and understanding. We don't get a floor plan for the details of life--where we are going to live, what jobs we will have, what trials we'll face, what our kids will do. We do have the plan of salvation--the big picture--to guide us along, but we fill in the details of our personal life floor plan a little at a time. We journey along with faith, making choices and following spiritual promptings as they come, and slowly our "floorplan" is filled in as our unique journey progresses. We are "led by the Spirit, not knowing beforehand the things which [we] should do." (1 Nephi 4:6)

It's amazing how one phrase--floor plan--struck me in such a specific way. Normally people use the word blueprint instead of floor plan when they are talking about big plans, but the word floor plan was used this time, and it combined with recent events to bring specific thoughts to my mind. The housing market in Sunnyside is sluggish to say the least, with outrageously inflated prices and low quality houses for sale. Last month I did a bunch of research into the possibility of building a house and looked at a lot of floor plans in the process. For about two weeks we really felt good about building a house this summer. The plan was to rent a small apartment in Sunnyside while building. Then we moved a little further along in our journey and received new ideas and inspiration that instantly felt right--better than building a house this summer.

Two weeks ago Jeff alerted his friends in the Sunnyside Ward that we were looking for a rental (because we thought we'd rent while building a house). The rental market around here is highly competitive with the good places only available through word of mouth--they go too fast for official listings--so we knew we'd need help if we wanted a good rental. A few days later, I got a text with the contact info of a ward member who had a house for rent. An entire house!?! I contacted them immediately. It turns out that some other people had filled out the paperwork to rent the house but backed out at the last minute. The next day the home's owner heard we needed a house (through the ward). The timing was perfect. Everything about the situation says divine intervention to me, and I feel so humbled, grateful, and loved.

The bishop of the Sunnyside Ward met with us and showed us the rental house (the house belongs to his son), and from the minute I walked in the front door, I felt GOOD. Jeff and I were both almost giddy with relief and GOOD vibes. While we walked around the quirky little country house, we were amazed that it had everything we hoped for in a house (minus a roomy kitchen). It's not fancy or perfect, but it is exactly what we need. It is also far better than we thought we'd be able to find in a rental. Immediately we both knew that this was the place, and we were surprised to feel so comfortable about renting long term. It was such a peaceful, restful feeling--no more stress and rush, looking at houses/building houses and trying to talk ourselves into them. Now we can take our time finding a house to buy, even if it takes a couple of years! We have time. There's no rush. Those are such calming words after a month of stressful scrambling.

I am the type who likes to have a PLAN--a completed floor plan--and it is hard for me to live with faith over fear when there aren't perfectly prepared plans in place. When we signed the contract to sell our house, closing on May 30th (before the end of the school year), it was a huge leap of faith because we didn't have anywhere to live besides my parents in-law's house (bless them for the offer). But the decision felt right, so we took the leap of faith, lived through a month with an uncertain future home, and now we have landed in a near-perfect situation in Sunnyside, without the transitional living-with-parents phase.

So we viewed and claimed the rental house immediately, signing the lease and paying the deposit on May 1st. Suddenly everything was REAL and our clock in Grandview started ticking down fast! Before the rental house was in the picture, we didn't have a solid move-out date from Grandview, since Jeff's parents live there. That all changed in a day! We are officially moving to Sunnyside on Memorial Day weekend, on May 27th. We get the keys to our rental house on May 15th and plan to ferry smaller stuff over during the days leading up to our big moving day. I am swamped with prepping our Grandview house for its pending sale--scheduling the electrician and roofing guy to do repairs, getting a paint match and touching up some exterior peeling paint, etc. And of course normal life is chugging along too, with piano lessons, AMBER, soccer practice, church, book club, running, Jeff coaching at high school track meets till all hours of the night, etc. We start packing next week!

Then there is the slow-burning emotional attachment I have to Grandview, our big white house behind the high school, and the life we have created here. We have lived in our Grandview house for five whole years. That's half of our marriage! And we've lived in Grandview for seven years total! This move is a big deal and a big change. Nostalgia strikes sporadically, and I find myself taking pictures of the most boring everyday things (more than usual--ha): the kids sitting at our beloved kitchen counter, the way the sunrise looks through my bedroom window, you get the idea. But however normal these scenes are right now, they are about to be completely in the PAST.

The idea of receiving LIFE line upon line is another way to say "it's the journey that matters, not the destination." If we hadn't put our house on the market and sold it, we wouldn't have looked for a house in Sunnyside. If we hadn't looked unsuccessfully for a house in Sunnyside, we would not have investigated building. If we hadn't considered building a house, we would not have pursued renting a home so soon. Etc. etc. etc. We were led by the spirit, not knowing beforehand the things which we should do. One line at a time. It is good to have a destination in mind for our moving journey.

It is so easy to get comfortable and be used to doing things a certain way. Moving disrupts all of that. But here in the middle of all these anxious preparations, I can look back on all of the events and inspirations that have led us this far with peace and know that moving forward on this path is the right thing for our family.

Deep breath in. Exhale. Onward!

Our next White house.

The garage door is automatic! #upgrade

The house is on the edge of this big canal--yikes! I bought Amber a leash this week.

I never thought we'd live in the country, but I am looking forward to it--as if I need any fuel to my hermit-ish nature.

Now, for a bunch of random happy everyday pictures:

Sunrise through my bedroom window. I like to get up, go to the bathroom, open the shades, and sit up in bed to read my scriptures first thing in the morning. Sunrise is at the perfect time right now so I can usually watch it while I read.

Recently I have started reading from paper scriptures part time instead of the Gospel Library app. There is something so solid about real books. I can hold all of those words in my hands like treasure.

Slowly the visitors trickle into my bedroom...

...then I am booted from my own bed.

Rose got ready extra early one morning last week so she could have some art time before school. Amber watched very closely.

As long as Amber doesn't try to draw on Rose's paper, Rose is the most patient big sister, letting her crowd in for a closer look.

Family prayer usually happens in the car right before we leave for school on weekdays.

Amber, the messy little bookworm

She likes to line things up.

Chatbooks are the best!

Yogurt face! We call it Yog for short, pronounced y-oh-g

One morning Amber got all of the Golden Books into a stack and methodically went through each one, page by page, placing finished books on a separate stack. She alternates between these endearing, calm, legal activities and raiding the fridge and painting with yogurt and hiding butter in the toaster oven.

I packed up well over half of the toys when we first put the house on the market, leaving mostly just books upstairs. Amber was 100% ok with that.

Amber has been reluctant to take naps lately so I have taken to wearing her out in the great outdoors on days I really need her to take a nap. Last week we hunted sage rats behind the bleachers in the soccer field out back.

These creepy little creatures got used to us in no time. I had to drag Amber away before they let her pet them. My toes curled every time they popped their tiny heads out of the hole, and Amber shrieked in delight.

Another energy-using plan: play at the park

It works! Zzzz

With all of the me vs. her combat, it's nice when she's in a good enough mood to snuggle with me for a few minutes before she heads off to her next destructive project.

Sometimes I forget to unlock the back door in time for the kids to get home from school. Sometimes they race home. On days where these two events coincide, the door shakes when they crash into it and start tugging on the locked handle. It'll be a miracle if we move out of this house before the kids destroy the place! Amber yanked the family room curtains straight out of the wall last week.

Sweet Amber, hugging her crying big sister. I'm pretty sure Amber was the one who made Rose cry (hair pulling, hitting, teasing, and stealing are all Amber-specialties), but a stern reminder from the mama had Amber gently comforting Rose.

Everything's better when Daddy's home!

Walking out of piano lessons. Rose loves Sister Cook's flowers.

I have completely succumbed to turning on a movie for Amber to watch while strapped into her carseat during piano lessons. She watches so intently that she hardly blinks and her eyes get all watery. Intensity should've been Amber's middle name. It's a relief to keep her strapped down during piano lessons.

I love it when Jay comes home from school brimming with stories, facts, and news.

After I scored a stack of 50 cent books at the local PEO rummage sale last week, the kids enjoyed cold chocolate milk after school snack while checking out the new reading material.

On Saturday morning, Amber hoisted a stack of books into my bed, sat on my feet, and started reading.

Jeff is the favorite seat at family movie night. These kids have missed having him around as often as usual during this long track season.

Amber gets jealous whenever Jeff and I get too close.

Sweet Jay brought me breakfast in bed at 6:15am last Saturday. He said "I know you're tired from the long week and I wanted to save you energy." I gave him a sideways hug while I groggily tried to wake up. Cute boy.

Another morning, another Rose-meltdown. It's exhausting. The meltdowns are unpredictable--it can be over piano frustrations, Amber-irritation, hair brushing, inability to find the perfect clothes, or any other large number of things. Lately I have been emotionally drained by 8am!

Long Sunday mornings with Daddy all to themselves.

Coaching track at all hours wears Jeff out, but he patiently lets the kids climb all over him, talking, questioning, and prodding.

Rose agreed to take a nap with him.

Amber poked him in the face while Jay read him excerpts from his World War II library book.

The boys, playing Civilizations together. Jay LOVES this time with his dad.

Amber loves to destroy and defeat me completely:

My life.

Dude!