I'm officially wrapping the summer up and calling it good. Not like I'm singing the praises of fall just yet though. That's still a good month away at least. But summertime has closed its doors and I finally went back and looked at what we captured from it. Cousin time. Water time. Mountain time. Family time. All good stuff. These are traditions that I hope they remember. It takes a lot of work (and a little bit of frustration) to make them happen but looking back, it is so worth it. Family relationships are worth it.

Goodbye summer 2011. Thanks for the memories. (that sounds like a cheesy yearbook autograph now doesn't it?)

My favorite photo of the summer is right here. Dallin and his cousin have lame sunburns but that smile from Lincoln. Just kills me. every. time.

Summertime took us to Utah. It was the perfect respite to skip the relentless heat of an Arizona summer. Nothing better than a cool summer night, folks. Nothing better. Especially in July. You are bound to see fireworks lighting the sky for weeks on end. We'd scoop up some ice cream cones and sit out on the lawn watching the colorful blasts pepper the night until way past our bed time. Way, way past our bed time. There wasn't a single night that they were awake when I tucked them in. Half dead is more like it. But they loved it. And they begged every evening to stay up until the whites of their eyes resembled road maps.

The 24th happened to be on a Sunday this year. What better place to celebrate this pioneer shindig than at Temple Square. I can't help but feel giddy when I see the sister missionaries dotting the grounds. They take me to a place…no they take me to a person…that I used to be. I often think about that part of my life and long to be that person again. Oh she's here, but sometimes it takes a while to find her.

But seeing those sister missionaries, it makes it so much easier to feel like Hermana (Sister) Pierce all over again. Yes, I think this really is the place.

I glanced up at the wall. It was eight o'clock pm. How did it get to be eight already? I had a to-do list a mile long when I realized that more than half of it just wasn't going to get done. The next morning was the first day of school and Lincoln's birthday. I had tried to be prepared for it all, but I'm a procrastinator. It's not one of my finer qualities. At this point, I had to pick and choose what was going to happen and what was not.  Going down my list, I narrowed it down to two things.

Balloons and bread.

Balloons for his room when he woke up. And bread for their lunches. Yes. Those two things were necessities. The rest would have to wait.

The day came and went and it seemed to be a good one for all. School went well. The birthday boy was happy. As I sat down at the end of the day to process it all, I thought about my role as a mom. Days like these help me realize what they really need from me most. Balloons? Sure. Bread? Yes. But most of all they need to feel my love. What they really need is my arms to pull them close and tousle their hair in the morning when they crawl out of bed. Or that extra squeeze hug when they come barreling through the door after school.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not going to let them all starve or anything. But loving them is tops on my list.

The ants went marching while in Colorado.

I used to be a hiker. It's on my list of things I used to be. Like a runner. Or an early morning riser. Oh, and maybe an organizer. Nah, I've never truly been organized for more than a week so I'll just toss that one out the window right now. 

But a hiker? I really did like that once upon a time. So when the chance came in Colorado, I was up for it. With 8 little feet along for the ride, I was pretty nervous how it would end up. Very nervous.

Was there whining? Check. Was there crying? Maybe a little. But did they do it? Oh yeah! And surprisingly well considering I was even winded after a mile uphill climb. 

It was so worthwhile to do something hard together as a family. Now, if we could all learn to organize…