Snapshots of a Wedding, part 3

To me, weddings are synonymous with tears, or what our family calls, "happy crying".  We happy cry a lot around here - through the finale of "Beauty and the Beast", every time Sara Groves sings "Small Piece of You" and throughout the "Amazing Race" as contestants overcome trials.  

I've known for a while that Norah is a happy crier, but another one joined the club this weekend.

There were the expected teary eyes during the wedding:

... as the organ began the triumphant fanfare and all heads swiveled to catch a glimpse of the Bride,

(first tears escaped)

... in response to the Father of the Bride escorting his little girl down the aisle and when he handed her off to the Groom,

(sniffle, sniffle)

... when the congregation sang together, "Brother, Let Me Be Your Servant",

(gulp, snuffle)

... as the Bride and Groom exchanged vows,

(sniff and dab the eyes)

... and as the recently hitched couple walked arm-in-arm up the aisle.

(dabbing and smiling, simultaneously)

As the wedding party arrived back in the parlor, doors swinging closed behind us and bridesmaids casting off their pointy-toed shoes, cheerful hugs were exchanged.  Relief and happiness flooded the faces of the Bride and Groom and the rest of us relaxed, knowing that the "work" was over.  

It was then that I felt little hands desperately clutching my dress.  Turning my head, I found my Ashley with her face buried in the folds of my skirt, sobbing.  Bending down, I ran my head over her hair and asked, "Is this happy crying?"  Still nestled in my dress, she nodded and sniffled, in response.

Being a happy crier myself, I knew that the only thing to do was to let her go ahead and have a good cry, even if my dress suffered the consequences.  A few minutes passed and she peeked out from the purple fabric.  We dried her tears, she managed a chin-trembling smile and then she was off, laughing and giggling with her cousins again.

Happy tears ... the way our tender hearts stay tender.  And why we always have a tissue in our pocket.

Pitter Patter

Splish, splash ...

Two pudgy feet clad in floppy pink crocs jump off the bottom step and land in a puddle.  

Sploosh!

Rain comes down heavy, bubbles forming on the asphalt as little drops collide with the ground.  She points a dimpled finger at the black street and giggles, "Bubbas, Momma!"

Plip, plop ...

Tiptoeing out into the grass, her ladybug umbrella hides her gleeful face.  One little hand peeks out from under the red and white covering, fingers wiggling in the rain.  She laughs and the umbrella slips back, the pole resting on her shoulder.  The handle gripped in her wet hand.  She turns her dimpled grin toward me and I can't help but smile.  Such joy!

A flash lights up the sky followed by a low rumble, a growling from the clouds.  Her delight turns to distress, eyes wide, smile slipping.  Another flare, a louder grumble and she scurries up the steps.  Panic in her every move, fast feet and fluttering hands.

Her footsteps are soggy, bare feet slipping inside her plastic shoes.

Squitch, squelch ...

She topples into my lap here on the top step under the protection of the porch.  The cluster of ladybugs lays forgotten in the grass.  Her shoulders are damp; dark hair hangs in clumps, sticking to her forehead and cheeks.  A single raindrop glimmers, hanging off an eyelash.  She looks up at me, resting her head against my chest.  Her smile creeps back into place.  "Sing the song, Momma?"

Pitter, patter, pitter, patter,
Listen to the rain!
Pitter, patter, pitter, patter,
Listen to the rain!
Our God in heaven,
He makes the rain fall,
He makes the rain fall down!

small things {glue guns}

small things #71 ... glue guns

I love my glue gun.  My rusty, trusty, trigger-happy, turquoise glue gun.

This morning I blew away a pile of odds and ends in need of some fixing ...

Lydia's poor, dismembered pencil-topper monkey - Ka-pow!

Norah's cutie-patootie magnet face - Poom!

Ashley's dusty foam frame (complete with cobwebs!) - Blam!

Three out of the four wings on my decrepit dragonfly napkin ring - 

Rat-a-tat-tat-tat!

The unintentional floppy parts of Aaron's wannabe Teva sandals - 

Pow! and Phuwp!

Ma and her glue gun ... the Fixin'est Gun in the West!

Glue guns ... my crafty way of keeping my house together.  

One splootch at a time.

small things {progress}

small things #69 ... progress

Date:  April, 2012
Location:  MOPS meeting (correction:  on the way to MOPS meeting)

"Mommy?  Where we going?  Where kids going?"

"The big kids are off to school.  Say, bye-bye!  And we are off to MOPS."

... silence from the back seat ...

"Are you all buckled up?  Here we go."

"Mommy?  I, I, I don't want, want to go to MOPS!"  Her explosive sobbing makes her stutter.

"I know, Honey.  But you are going to have a great time, okay?  You get to play with Nancy and the other kids ..."

"I. Don't. Want. To. Go. MOPS!  I stay with you.  I stay with you, Mommy!"

We pull into the parking lot of the church.  Lydia's passionate sobs have progressed into hopeless sniffles.  Her protests have a touch of resignation to them.

"Mommy?  You stay with me?  I go to big church with you?"

"You can come with me for a little bit while I put my purse at my seat and then we'll go to your class.  Got it?"

Liddy blows her nose, grips my hand and shuffles to the church.  A few minutes later, her grip tightens as I check her into her four-year old class.

"I'll be back in just a bit.  You're going to have so much fun.  Look!  They have puzzles!  You are a good puzzler.  Here ... I'll get you started and then you can finish it."

"Mommy ..."

smooch ... "I love you!  Have fun!"

I successfully disentangle myself, but her pouty lower lip breaks my heart.

Fast forward six months ...

Date:  September, 2012
Location:  Kayla's House (correction:  Kayla's driveway)

"You are going to have such fun with Kayla!  I think you girls are going to go to the park."

"You no have to come in Mommy.  I go in myself."

"Uh.  I think I will get out with you and say hi to Miss Kim."

"I don't need your help.  I'm big."

She hops out of the van, grabs her water bottle and giggles with Kayla all the way to the garage.

"I love you ... have fun."

She didn't even turn around.

Progress ... the bittersweet and inevitable journey our babies make from "Don't go, Mommy!" to "See ya."

small things {hullabalooga}

small things #68 ... hullabalooga

"Welcome to Cranium Hullabaloo!"

The electronic MC announces the rules and Lydia heads to a purple Cranium pad.  Her goofy smile and bouncy feet tell me she's excited.

"Mommy!  You have to get on a purple guy.  You can stand with me!"

I step over to "Creative Cat" (and over the baby) and wait for the directions.

"Move over to a yellow."

I step over to the yellow triangle while Lydia dances over to the yellow circle.

"Fly to a square."

We flap our wings and head to the blue square.  Lydia dodges Baby S and her sorter box.

"Ha!  We sharing!"

"Crawl to an animal."

Lydia scurries on all fours to the elephant.  I stoop over and pretend to crawl to the monkey.

"Freeze!  Is anyone standing on the elephant?  If you are, you're the winner!  Winner?  Take a bow!"

Lydia claps for herself and bows deeply and dramatically.  One sweeping arm barely misses Baby S's noggin.

"I won!  I da winner!"

We step back on the purple pads.

"Samantha, no!  Mommy, Samantha has the elephant."

"That's okay.  I'll trade her this toy for the pad.  You get on a red pad."

"Slither to a musical instrument."

Baby S walks by with the piano.

"Get on a blue."

Lydia grabs Baby S by the hand and "helps" her find a blue.

"Hop to a triangle."

Lydia hops around Baby S and lands next to me on the red triangle.

"Freeze!  Is anyone standing on the red triangle?  If you are, you're the winner!  Winner?  Do a funky monkey dance!"

Lydia be-bops around the room, arms flailing and feet kicking, narrowly missing Baby S, who is also frenetically boogying.  I do my own rendition of John Travolta's "Stayin' Alive", much to Lydia's delight.

As we head back to our purple pads, Lydia protests that Baby S is putting the pads away.  Sure enough the baby has gathered up three pads and is walking back to the box.  I rescue the pads and redistribute them around the floor.  Frustrated, Baby S flaps her arms and plops herself down on the blue circle.

"Try this Hullabaloo move!  Put your knee on a circle.  Annnd ... touch your foot to a green.  Annnd ... put your nose on a food." ... annnd balance over the baby who is crawling under your belly.

We stretch and pretzel ourselves to reach the three pads and I fear I might not get back off the floor.

"Everybody stand up!  Walk on your tip-toes to a green."

We tip-toe to the spaghetti pad and Lydia hangs from my leg.

"Freeze!  Is anyone standing on the frog?  If you are, you're the winner!  Winner?  Do a victory jump!"

We look around.  Baby S is sucking on the frog.

"Samantha!  You da winner!  Jump!  Jump!  Jump!"

Baby S cries as she gets jumped and bumped to the floor.

"Want to play again?  Get on a purple Cranium pad to start."

Whew!  I'm about Hullabalooga-ed out!

Hullabalooga ...  Ashley changed the name and Baby S changed the rules.  It's a lively game where anything goes and everybody wins!

small things {getting lost}

small things #67 ... getting lost

Like most moms, Labor Day doesn't really look a whole lot different for me.  Still loving on my kids.  Still keeping up with the plopping.  Still feeding the galloping horde.  It is significantly better, of course, because Brett's home ... but I don't actually take the day off.

So when the discussion came up, "What do you want to do Monday?", I quickly asserted my desire to do something.  Anything.  Whatever would keep us busy and, preferably, out of the house.

And so we decided to get lost.  Sorta.

We loaded up the kids, lunches, water bottles, snacks, camera, iPod, sunscreen, bug spray, hats, sweatshirts and GPS (Whew!  Labor Day, my foot!) and headed to Grand Mesa.  Our destination:   Lost Lake.

Following the dirt path led us deep into the forest.  The cool, refreshing and delightfully green forest - such a contrast to our desert dwelling.  This is my kind of hiking.  Shade covered the rock strewn trail due to the towering pines and spruce trees.  Aspen trees danced in the breeze.  On each side of the path were boulders and fallen logs covered with lichen and moss.  We counted almost a dozen different types of moss.  A dozen!  Some were fuzzy, others scaly and still others looked like miniature trumpets.  We marveled at the varying textures and colors - from mint to emerald to copper.  

During a drink break, we stooped down to inspect a little hole between two rocks and imagined a little fairy living there - fluttering about and sitting on her front lawn of spongy verdant moss.  We half expected to see a few Hobbits cross our path singing a lively tune and carrying their knapsacks filled with treasure.  It was a truly magical forest!

We trudged on stepping over gnarled roots and pitted stones.  The consistent incline required a few breaks for short legs to rest, but Lil' Liddy was remarkable and only requested a ride one time.  The rest of the hike she spent hopping from rock to root ("Like Tigger, Mommy!") and giggling at the chittering chipmunks who chatted with us from the tops of the trees.

The 1.5 mile path wound through the forest and past hillsides covered in sloughed off boulders.  One portion of our hike crossed in front of a massive pile of rocks that had slid down the mountain face and come to rest at the bottom - a perpetual rock slide, of sorts.  I could see in Aaron's eyes the desire to climb and clamber about on the stones.  "Sorry, Buddy.  Let's stick to the path."

At the turn of each switchback, our view changed.  The light was altered as it shifted through the trees casting fresh shadows and startling colors. New angles appeared as fallen logs, leaning trees and upright evergreens intersected one another.  A curious boulder shaped like an egg.  An uprooted trunk that looked like an elephant.  A shocking red leaf in a field of green oak brush.  An aspen tree flirting with fall.  Norah commandeered the camera and snapped off endless photos.

Most of us hiked.  Ashley trotted.  She had on her running shoes, you see, and so she kept a quicker pace.  With a water bottle in each hand ("You're welcome, Lydia!") she kept up with her longer-legged siblings and stayed maybe even a little ahead at times.  She flexed her hiking muscles and showed us that she can tackle a steady hill and even carry her own supplies.

On our final descent to our destination, Aaron jogged back to tell us that ...

We'd found it!

Yes, Lost Lake really was this color.  An amazing turquoise with a ring of ocher and a bold outline of black rocks.  It was still and quiet and tranquil.  And begged to have stones thrown into it!

After a rest and a picnic lunch balanced on boulders, we headed back the way we had come, but not before deciding that we'd love to get lost here again.

Getting Lost ... connecting with one another, marveling at God's creativity, strengthening our muscles and capturing memories.  How soon 'til we get lost again?

small things {plopping}

small things #66 ... plopping

My kids are suffering from a serious malady.  I don't think it's life-threatening, but it is serious.  (Of course, if we can't find an antidote it might become life-threatening because I might lose my mind!)  Perhaps your kid's suffer from the same illness.  Here are the symptoms:

~ randomly depositing toys and other small items in strange and random places.

~ unconsciously dropping gadgets and gizmos on any flat surface when encountering another more desirable gadget or gizmo.

~ leaving socks, hair rubber bands, pj's, backpacks and shoes wherever they fall when they are shed from their bodies.

~ unloading precious belongings anywhere and wondering later where they are.

Any other families out there with rampant plopping in their homes?  Please tell me we aren't the only ones!

I have stood dumbfounded as I watched my son walk into the living room with a pair of socks in his hands and walk out of the living room having successfully deposited them in the La-Z-Boy.  Plop!

I have watched wide-eyed as my oldest daughter has cartwheeled into the family room with a magazine in her hand and cartwheeled back out leaving the magazine peeking half-way out from under the couch.  Plop!

I have watched stunned as my middle girl has walked up to the dining room table and exchanged her handful of Legos for the Strawberry Shortcake dolls she previously deposited there.  Plop!

I have observed flabbergasted as my baby girl has trotted into the kitchen with an armful of baby doll paraphernalia and dropped it on the floor upon spotting her Tinkerbell cell phone under the dishwasher.  Plop!

Plop!  Plop!  Plop!

A few times a day I declare that there is an abundance of ploppage building up on the flat surfaces of our home and my kids scurry around gathering up the items they have pollinated throughout the house  - which I'm grateful for.  But I truly wish that they would get into the habit of putting things away, or as we say in our house, "where they live."  

I keep thinking that they will catch on and realize that the amount of time that they spend cleaning up is 100% avoidable if they kept their belongings tidy, but I also recognize that it's a natural part of growing up.  Maybe there is a vaccine against this childhood disease.

Until the medical community discovers a way to immunize my kids against plopping, I'll just have to use my Buy It Back Box.  But I'm going to need a bigger box.

Plopping ... an opportunity for my kids to grow and learn.  And for Mommy to pray for patience.

small things {lucky}

small things #65 ... lucky

Sitting on the step I can feel the crisp air from the swamp cooler on the nape of my neck.  Norah sits between my knees on the bottom step.  I ask her to hold still while I comb out her hair.  Baby S is toddling around the living room:  a rattle in one hand and a Matchbox car in the other.  Both are equally delicious, it appears.  Beside me on the step, Lydia holds the hairbrush and the little cup of rubber bands.  Ashley sits behind me and plays with my hair.

Pinched between my left ear and shoulder I hold the phone and try to have a conversation.

I comb out a little rat's nest and Norah winces. 

"Hold still, please," I whisper, interrupting the caller on the line.  Gratefully my friend knows that this isn't the best time to call and she's prepared to be interrupted.  She continues with her train of thought.

I hold the comb between my teeth and wrestle with an unruly ponytail and a too-small rubber band.  The phone almost slips out of it's place in the crook of my neck, but I catch it with my hand.  "Sorry.  What was that last bit?"

I move on to the next ponytail and spot Baby S with a magazine in one hand.  One corner is a bit soggy.  I motion her to come to me and she smiles and sprints away.  I whisper to Lydia, "Can you get that from her?  Give her a board book instead."

I return my attention to the caller and the second ponytail.  The caller chats on and the pony tail is being difficult.  But there's more.  Ashley and Lydia have decided to do my hair, too.  Now I wince as Ashley tugs on the rubber band in my hair.  I try to hold my head still as they comb, brush and twist.  In the midst of my one-sided conversation I hear giggles and whispers as my hairdressers braid and band my hair.

I finish Norah's ponytails and give them each a quick brushing.  "You're done," I whisper, "get a quick snack before we leave for gymnastics."  The girls behind be continue to clip and comb my curls.  A brief fight breaks out over a butterfly barrette, but one silent and stern look from me nips it in the bud. 

My phone call is close to wrapping up and a good thing, too, as it's almost time for us to head to Kidzplex.  As my friend takes a breath, I take the opportunity to describe to my current situation ... doing hair, having hair done and wrangling a toddler all in a four foot radius.  She laughs and says, "My, aren't you lucky?"

"Well ... that wasn't the first word that came to my mind," I retort.  

As I hang up the phone, I turn to look at my girls behind me.  They are all smiles. 

Norah cartwheels into the living room with a granola bar in one hand and smiles.  

Baby S cruises past me, headed to the kitchen and the promise of a snack, smiling broadly.

Well ... I guess she's right after all.

Lucky ... it all depends on our perspective.

small things {fleeting}

small things #64 ... fleeting

I open my eyes and I close my eyes and I open my eyes again to find that I'm awake.  And I'm alone.  Mommy said that she was going to nap with me, but I don't think she did.  I push back the comforter and swing my little chubby legs off the side of the bed.  I have to slide my bottom off the edge of the bed a little bit until my barefoot toes reach the carpet.  I rub my eyes a few times and stagger toward the stairs.  Why didn't Mommy nap with me?

I use my hands to help me navigate the steps - one, two, three, four, five, seven .... I push open the basement door and peer up the stairs to the living room.  I see my Mommy stretched out in the rocking chair, shoes off and eyes closed.

"Mom ... Mommy ... Mommeee," my words come out stuttered with my sleepiness.  "Why didn't you, why didn't you nap with me."

Her eyes open and she smiles.

"Hi, Sweetie.  I came downstairs, but you were already asleep and I didn't want to wake you up."

"You said.  You said you would sleep with me."

"I know.  Did you have a good nap?"

I blink a few times and try to focus my drooping eyes.  "I wasn't asleep.  I opened my eyes and I closed my eyes, but I didn't sleep."

My bottom lip starts to quiver and I feel hot tears press against my eyes.  "You said you'd sleep with me."

Mommy tilts her head to the side and holds her arms out to me.  She turns sideways in the rocking chair and I crawl up and fit into the hole she made for me, sprawled across her lap with one arm flung over her shoulder.  I sniff my nose and wipe it against her shirt.  She sighs and pats my back as I nestle into her arms.  It's warm and quickly I feel a bit sweaty and sticky squeezed in beside my Mommy but I don't want to move.  I enjoy the rise and fall of her own breathing and the way she gently tickles my arm.  She whispers, "I like you," and I smile into the crook of her neck.

I hope Mommy naps with me tomorrow.  Doesn't she know that these chances to snuggle and sleep together are short-lived?

Fleeting ... kids grow up too fast.  I'd better take advantage of snuggle sessions while I can.  Before Lydia declares, "I think I'll just read by myself."

small things {veggies}

small things #63 ... veggies

I hear the car door slam and I know that Daddy has come home.  From my spot at the kitchen sink, I hear the thump and thud as kids run to the front door.  Lydia grabs a leg and gives it a squeeze while Ashley grabs his attention with the latest news from school.  Being the good daddy that he is, he listens and squeezes back and then slowly disengages himself in an effort to get to the kitchen.

A quick smooch and a smile and he's landed back at home.  Ahhh....

The kids run back to whatever they were doing before they attacked Brett at the door and I return to stirring pasta and chopping tomatoes.  A few minutes later, Aaron sniffs his way into the kitchen.

"What's for dinner?"

"Spaghetti and a salad."

"Yum.  Where's Dad?"

"I'd check the garden."

The garden.  Brett's other baby.

(Three years ago, Brett had a dream to put in two garden boxes and we've been enjoying the fruits of his labor ever since!  We've had another bountiful year and it has been a pure delight to eat and enjoy vegetables from our own garden.)

In the morning, Brett can be found checking on his plants and making sure that all the sprinkler heads are working.  In the evenings, if Brett isn't in the house, you can bet that he's outside checking on the pepper plants, re-directing the pumpkin vine, hunting for cucumbers or harvesting tomatoes.

Upon returning to the kitchen, he's likely to deposit a pile of produce on the countertop.  Hardy green zucchini and lumpy squash abound.  Purple eggplants and chubby cucumbers spill out of the bowl.  Fire engine red cherry tomatoes and brilliant yellow pear tomatoes sit within reach to be nibbled and munched by my grazing children.  And me.

He also fills me in on the prolific abundance of pole beans, the voracious spreading habits of oregano and the curiously orange spaghetti squash that apparently experienced a little cross-pollination with the pumpkin plant nearby.  We mourn the demise of the Santa Fe pepper plant and Google recipes requiring an abundance of cucumber.

On our recent return from a visit with Gramps and Grammy, we discovered a rather barren kitchen.  The refrigerator light was blinding for lack of food and the pantry echoed.  Gratefully the garden was still overflowing with veggies.  In spite of being desperately in need of a grocery store run, we ate like kings and queens that night.  Veggie-loving kings and queens!

Grilled eggplant and zucchini, roasted spaghetti squash and homemade fresh tomato sauce with basil.

Veggies ... one of the most delicious aspects of summer.  Especially if we grew them ourselves!

Four other fruits we grew this summer ...
standing in front of our prolific garden.

______________________________________________

#2 - You were supposed to have a garden this summer - share the fruits of your labor.  Or in our case, Brett's labor.