These Are Mine

She sits in the middle of the living room floor, chipped pink polish on her little toes and matching band-aids on each knee.  On the carpet before her is spread a motley collection of pencils, markers, sticky notes, colored pencils and a box of Kleenex.  A folder with an image on the cover of a kitty cat in a tiara sits propped on her lap.  Permanent marker in hand, she scrunches her forehead, tongue peeking out between the gap left by two lost teeth, and adds her brand to the top right corner.

Pointy "A".
Lightening-bolt "S".
Haphazard "H".
Crooked "L".
Lopsided "E".
And a "Y" masquerading as a "T".

She sits back and admires her work.  As she reaches for her new pencil bag, a grin dances across her face and the freckles on her nose sparkle.  It's the Eve of the First Day of School!

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Linking up with Trifecta - inspired by the word:  Brand 

3a (1) : a mark made by burning with a hot iron to attest manufacture or quality or to designate ownership 
     (2) : a printed mark made for similar purposes : trademark
  b (1) : a mark put on criminals with a hot iron 
     (2) : a mark of disgrace : stigma <the brand of poverty> - 

My Personal Paparazzi

"Can I play wit dis?"

Turning, I see Lydia, head cocked to the left and hip cocked to the right, smiling at me clutching our camera in her pudgy hands.  The strap lays crookedly around her shoulders and her finger is already on the trigger.

I spy an opportunity for this little one to be busy and happy while I finish up the last load of laundry.  As "helpful" as she is to match socks, her folding skills leave something to be desired, as she typically resorts to the wad-technique.

"Alright.  Just keep the strap around your neck, please."

"Tanks, Mommy!"  She skips off to the living room, clicking off random shots from belly button-level.

Flash!  The dusty windowsill bathed in sunshine.

Flash!  The fireplace, complete with ancient ashes and two long-lost pieces of popcorn.

Flash!  The big toe on her left foot with the spiky nail.

Opening the dryer, I drag jeans and towels from the machine, dumping them into the laundry basket at my feet.  Peering in, I see a lone sock left in the back, just out of reach.  Leaning into the mouth of the dryer, I stretch to snatch the forgotten sock.  Flash!

"Look, Mommy!  I gotchu!"

Peeking over my shoulder, I see the picture frozen on the camera screen.  My backside illuminated in the blinding light of the camera.  Her proud smile almost makes that snapshot okay.  Almost, but not quite.

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Linking up (several days late!) with Trifecta: 33-333 words inspired by the single word mouth (something that resembles a mouth especially in affording entrance or exit).

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.

Snapshots of a Wedding, part 2

Another memorable aspect of the wedding weekend was the diversity of people involved in the celebration, all with ties to the happy couple.  We joked throughout the weekend about the intimacy of having dinner with 40 of your closest friends and family!

The melting pot of friends and family was an astonishing mix ...

guests from back east and guests from the northwest,

guests living in town and guests flying across the Atlantic,

friends with Boston accents and friends speaking only Spanish,

close-knit childhood friends and friends not seen since childhood, and

old family friends and new-found friends.

With this hodge-podge of friends and families comes a treasure trove of stories to tell.   And backstories to share.  And explanations to those stories.  And footnotes to their anecdotes.  And laughter.  Lots of laughter.

It was marvel the way that, in spite of the age differences, the differing family histories, the extent of familiarity among guests and even language barriers, that stories could be told, appreciated and enjoyed by everyone present.

And we made even more stories this weekend.  Stories that will be told, appreciated and enjoyed again and again.  That is the beautiful way that God weaves families and friends together so that when we return back east or to the northwest or across the Atlantic or just back across the state, we're still knit together.

Snapshots of a Wedding

This past weekend, we had the joy of participating in the wedding of my husband's sister and her new groom.  Five days of family, friends and festivities!

Congratulations, again and again, Stephanie & Ned!

Last evening, as the dust settled following our feverish unpacking of our slush-covered van, we sat around the dinner table, munched on post-wedding pizza and tried to capture a few of the snapshots of the celebration, hoping to keep these precious and sacred moments from escaping away into the ordinariness of our school night.  Or the seven loads of laundry waiting to be loaded.

A few images floated to the surface of our reminiscing ...

In the few quiet moments before company arrives, there is a busy-ness.  Last minute preparations before the fun.  Straightening renegade pillows on sofas, stowing away migrating tennis shoes, freshening up and taming cowlicks and quick checks to make sure dinner is in order.

And then there's a knock at the door.

Suddenly the house erupts in excitement.  A dozen voices speaking at once and arms stretched for hugs with cheeks turned for kisses.  A traffic jam on the front steps while cold air sneaks in.  The gusts blow scarves from guests and cause young hostesses to scurry back to their toys on the living room floor.  Greetings to cousins, brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles.  Introductions of new friends; names spoken, forgotten, repeated and remembered.  A chorus of hello, you've grown, welcome and come in fill the previously quiet and waiting home.

I love the cacophony at the front door.  The clamor to greet and be greeted.  The cries of joy at being reunited under one roof for a spell.  I love the commotion that comes when the door bell rings ... and the guests arrive.

small things {music-er}

small things #60 ... music-er

Lydia is strapped into her car seat.  Baby S gazes appreciatively at her buddy from across the van.  She bobs her head and smiles with all seven teeth, clapping her hands with enthusiasm.  Lydia proudly plays Ashley's "music-er".

eeeeeeeehhhh-aaaaaaahhhhhhhh

eeeeeehhhh-uuuuuhhhhhhhhh

uuuuuuuuuu-eeeeeeeehhhhh

eeehh-uuuhh-eeehh-uuuhh-eeehhhhhhh

ooooooooeeeeeeeeeeuuuuuuhhhh!

The audience goes wild!  A round of applause erupts from the middle seats of the van as Lydia begins the next song in her lengthy repertoire.

uuuuu-eeeeh-uuuuuu-eeeeh-oooooooh ...

Music-er ... even a three year old can feel like Yo Yo Ma with a harmonica on their lips!

small things {stirring}

small things #57 ... stirring

Yesterday's post of slumbering and snuggling made me wish that we scheduled in a daily siesta for sleeping!  Or at least preserved the restorative habits of napping that we protected so diligently when our kids were babies.  There is nothing quite so lovely as feeling that delicious sensation of dropping off into dreamland in the middle of the afternoon!

Unless you compare that to the delightful moments of waking after a much needed nap ...

Lydia begins stirring a bit, rubbing her nose with the back of her pudgy hand.  Her eyes stay closed but she wriggles around a bit - attempting to settle back into her nest of blankets and a lumpy, down pillow. She is still for a moment.  Then her hands flutter up to her face to feverishly rub at her eyes and nose.  She scrunches her shoulders up to her ears, turning onto her side and burying her face in my pillow.  My girl stretches out her legs with her toes pointed and her back arched a bit.  Her body tenses as she stretches from the top of her sweaty head to her chubby toes.  She makes a little grunting noise and rolls onto her back.  Her eyes flutter and she peeks at me through her dark lashes ...

She bestows on me a sleepy grin.

Lydia scoots closer to me and flops her dimpled arm across my hip.  She absently pats me and exhales deeply.  Her sweet breath on my face carries a hint of the milk she had before nap time.   She mumbles something and forces her eyes to focus on me.

"What's that, Sweetie?", I whisper.

"May we get up, peas?", she murmurs. 

"Sure.  But let's wake up first," I say with a chuckle.

Stirring ... the pull of the pillow and the pull of playtime are equally undeniable!

small things {tangled}

small things #56 ... tangled

It's a quarter after two in the afternoon and the fan above our bed spins lazily.  It just barely moves the still, warm air.  Liddy and I are snuggled in bed - eyes drowsy and breathing deeply.

One chubby arm lays across my shoulder.  A blue and red paint smudge still clings to her skin.  One arm lies across her back, pulling her close.

One dimpled hand clutches the green chenille throw blanket between us.  One hand is tucked under her back, still smelling of the warm vanilla lotion we put on before climbing into bed.

One set of knees folded up to her chin - ankles crossed and pudgy toes tucked under the blanket.  One set of knees bent and snuggled around her balled-up form.

One forehead smooth and peaceful with dark and damp wisps of hair curled against her sleeping face.  One forehead creased and furrowed - trying to cast off the worry and work that crawled into bed with me.

Who is who?

Who is helping who hold still enough to rest?

Who is helping who nap?

Tangled ... a heavenly knot of nappers on a Saturday afternoon.

small things {being great}

small things #55 ... being great

Lydia leans into my Gram's lap.  She smiles and lays her chubby hand on Gram's ~ a powerful reminder of the eighty years that separate them.

Norah smiles at something my Poppy says to her as she perches on the coffee table in front of him.  He strokes her hair back from her face and she giggles.

Aaron looks Gram straight in the eye.  Shoulder to shoulder and nose to nose.  He gently hugs her and mumbles something I can't make out.  But Gram smiles and touches her forehead to his.

Ashley sits in the crook of Poppy's arm.  He pats her knee and reminds her of how much he adores her.  She smiles up at him past the thumb in her mouth.

From my seat across the room, I watch these precious and fleeting interactions with my eyes burning.

My great grandparents sharing their great love with their GREAT-grandchildren couldn't be more, well ... great.

Being great ... whether you are in your eighties or still just three, loving well is pure sweetness.

small things {band aids}

small things #50 ... band aids

The kids had survived yet another mommy-mandated family walk through the neighborhood.  And now they were racing around the cul-de-sac, timing one another on the iPod.

(How is it that they have such boundless energy to frolic and run in a frenzy?  Just a few minutes ago there had been such moaning and groaning about having to walk.  So.  Very.  Far.  Such astonishing recovery!)

Soon the cul-de-sac was transformed into an Olympic arena complete with chalked starting lines and the cottonwood relay baton to pass from runner to runner.  We timed laps, stopped for water breaks and compared neighborhood records.

As the final moments before bedtime ticked by, the kids lined up for one last race around the asphalt.  They stood shoulder to shoulder with their toes on the white line waiting for the signal.  At "Ready!" they crouched toward the ground.  At "Set!" they leaned into their starts.  At "Go!" they took off, bending around the asphalt circle together.

And then it happened.

A little jostling, a little bumping, and a whole lot of slow-motion falling.

Brett and I were half-way across the concrete before poor Norah starting shrieking.  

Oh, the humanity.

I'll save you the details, but suffice it to say that sweet tender skin and unforgiving rugged asphalt do not mix.

As I gently settled her in the warm bath to clean her knees, hip, elbow and shoulder, she whimpered.  And my heart broke.  Her wounds were sharp and painful while my efforts seemed inept and clumsy.  Her tears were fresh and hot and my attempts to sponge away the road rubble only brought a new wave of tears.  She rejected the efforts of her daddy to help - leaving me to face the hard job of dabbing, ointmenting and band aiding.  All while swallowing hard against my own waves of distress.  (Did I mention that I feel a little like gagging around physical injuries?  No?  Well, I do.)

Finally Norah was fully band aided and pajama-ed.  She gingerly sat on the futon, waiting for our bedtime book.  In a tremulous voice she asked about gymnastics the next day.

"Well, we'll just see how you are feeling.  Okay?"

She nodded and sniffled.

Fast forward ten minutes into book time ...

Norah had transferred to the floor and was practicing her candlestick and her splits.

"Feeling better?"

A smile and a cartwheel.

It's a miracle!

I had felt rather helpless in the face of her injuries and yet my fumbling and awkward efforts had actually soothed her sorry little self.  Or at least the band aids had.

In the same way, I often feel at a loss as to what to say when someone experiences loss and pain, and yet even my most heartfelt, sincere, bumbling words can bring comfort.  More than my silence would, at least.

Band aids ... be they camouflaged, Hello Kitty or plain ol' beige - they bring comfort.  And so do compassionate, warm and kind words.

Vacation Snapshot #5

Fourth of July Camping

The tents were up.
The air mattresses were inflated.
PJ's were on and teeth were brushed.
The excitement over the glow-sticks had begun to fade.
The full moon was creeping over the horizon.
The mommies and daddies were feeling sleepy.

And the kids were still going strong!

Finally we shepherd each child to bed.
Boys over here and girls over there.
We zipped up sleeping bags and fluffed pillows.
We found little nooks for the glow sticks that still glowed
... comforting camping night-lights.
We closed up tent windows and doors.
We blew kisses to tired (but perky) campers.
We adults congregated on the patio.
We waited for the tussling and bustling to subside.

And the kids all got the giggles!

What is it about camping that brings out the wild things?
Loud voices sound louder.
Quiet voices still echo.
Sleeping bags swish and swoosh.
Zippers zig and zag.  Loudly.
Laughter erupts with nothing to dampen it.
Shhhushing resonates through the nylon tents.
In vain.

And the kids are running on empty!

Slowly, the explosions of giggles dissipate.
The whispers begin to fade away.
The mommies and daddies check in on the kids.
Settle campers back on mattresses and pillows.
Zip up sleeping bags one last time.
Do we dare head to bed ourselves?
No more potty breaks?
No more requests for a sip of water?
Silence.
Stars.
Sleeping out of doors.
Summer-time fun.

And the kids get to giggling again ... at ten after six!

Vacation Snapshots #3

Without any actual planning on our part, we unintentionally planned our family get-away to coincide with the Olympic trials for swimming and gymnastics.  Two of our family's favorite sports.

I swam as a kid and I love watching the swimmers defy the odds - whittling down world records, a tenth of a second at a time.  And as you know, our girls live and breath gymnastics and so to have an opportunity to see the best of the US go head-to-head was a treat.

The big screen TV at the condo was in the master bedroom, and so it was inevitable that we six fans would tumble onto the king-sized bed to watch the events unfold.

The kids brought the pillows from their beds and piled criss-crossed and scallywag across our bed.  They were focused on the wet and wild races between Phelps and Lochte.  They were riveted on the suspense building at the HP arena between Gabby Douglas and Jordyn Wieber.  And they were barely containing themselves in their desire to reenact every back-flip and flip-turn.

Before our very eyes, our kids were transformed into Olympic hopefuls:

Norah found the springy-ness of the king-sized mattress almost too much to resist.  She front rolled off the edge of the bed into a handstand and let her legs thump back onto the comforter.  She bonked Aaron with her legs as she practiced her straddle splits from end table to end table.  She slid off the bed backwards and back-walk-overed through the bedroom door.  She also thought this was a great location for some balance work ... we discouraged her from doing this in the saddle:

Ashley was enamored with the spiral staircase that twisted up to the second-story loft.  She practiced her iron-cross on the handrails.  She perfected her hip swing: back and forth, back and forth, back and forth ... while suspending herself between the railings.  She flew through the air (and over the bottom four stairs) to land in a perfect 10 salute.

Not to be out done, Lydia enjoyed (and repeatedly requested) time on the jungle gym.  She climbed, swung and clambered over every surface.  She loved to monkey up the "rock wall" and shimmy down the ladders.  

And then, there was Aaron.  Our Aaron-boy morphed into a water-wannabe.  Every moment in the pool was spent practicing his free-style, pooching out his stomach to stay afloat on his back and perfecting his flip-turn.  But his very most favorite reenactment occurred before he even got wet.  Standing on the deck, he swung his arms around and around, windmill-style - just like Phelps.  The he swung them back and forth, criss-crossing them in front and behind himself - just like Phelps.  He shook his head from side to side - just like Phelps.  He shook out his legs, keeping them loose - just like Phelps.  All he was missing was the warm-up parka and the huge headphones.

Watch out 2020 Olympics ... we've got a couple of athletes who are just getting warmed up!

Vacation Snapshot #2

Napping.

That elusive and coveted past-time of vacations.

While I do love to succumb to a mid-afternoon snooze, it rarely happens what with all the kids and their unified refusal to nap.  Or stop moving.

So on our recent trip to Steamboat, it was with great joy (and abandon) that I took two naps.  Two blissful naps while kids read, played games and generally stayed out of trouble.  (Except for the one time when I sleepily and rather grumpily demanded that they stop jumping from the spiral staircase steps.  Thud!)

For my nap on Saturday, my goal was two-fold:  catch a few winks and help Lydia to do the same.

As I ushered our youngest little whiner to the condo's king-sized bed, she sniffled and sniveled about not being tired, not needing a nap and not wanting to lay down.  Yeah.  Right.

We snuggled down into our pillows and Liddy continued to moan and groan about wanting to go play. I sleepily assured her that we would only lay down for a few minutes and mm-hmmed her plaintive pleas to get up soon.

Soon she was quietly laying on her back, periodically sighing.  I reached over to lay my hand on her belly and she gripped my fingers in her own little hand.

And that's how I woke up.

Snuggling my little sweetie and holding hands.  And drooling together.

A definite highlight of my vacation!

Vacation Snapshot #1

It's the first day back from vacation.

It's the day Brett goes back to work.

It's the day Baby S comes back to play.

It's the day when I go back to being outnumbered, 5-to-1.

It's the first day back from a week break of gymnastics.
(Classes, that is.  We have still gymnasticked everyday.  Every.  Day.)

It's the regular, filled-to-the-brim, back-in-the-saddle, go-go-go speed of our lives.

and ...

It's Monday.

We might be looking at a bumpy landing for this crew as we find our feet!

What better way to cope with the end of a delightful vacation than to reflect back on my favorite snapshots from our time in Steamboat and Ouray??  And then share them with you?

Vacation Snapshot #1

We trekked to Steamboat for a few days last week amid exuberant enthusiasm from the kids, sweet memories of past Steamboat visits and smoky skies from area forest fires.  

In spite of black smoke billowing to the north of the interstate ("Why does everything smell like a campsite?"), my unintentionally forgetting my swimsuit ("Must I start my trip trying on swimsuits?  My least favorite activity ever."), finding ourselves on the wrong side of the tracks ("This might be the longest and slowest train of all time."), a near miss on the highway ("Is he on OUR side of the road?  Yes!  Hang on kids! Whew!") ... we made it to the condos.  

The same condos we stayed in for our honeymoon.  

Since that first vacation over 14 years ago, we have been back to this same resort several times ... thanks to Ma & Pa Kellum!  I love that Steamboat Springs has become a destination that our whole family enjoys and that we all have wonderful memories of time together here.

We have our favorite stores that we like to browse while visiting downtown.

Love Aaron's tough look.  And Lydia's, too.

Guess what Ashley wants for her birthday.

We have enjoyed the walking path along the Yampa River.

Try not to get too wet.  Yeah, right.

We love jumping into the pools at the resort, right outside our door.

Mommy's little fishies!

One goal of this visit, however, was to do a little something new.  A little something memorable.  A little something the entire family would enjoy.  And we were successful.

On Saturday morning, we headed up to the ski village for a trip up the mountain on the gondola.  We didn't really have any more plans than that, but that little kernel of an idea ended up being enough!

When we arrived at the ticket office, there were a few families milling around, but the majority of gondola riders were covered in BMX gear and walking their souped-up mountain bikes.  Being a mom, I took this opportunity to point out to the kids the importance of wearing the appropriate helmets and body armor when participating in an extreme sport.  (No thanks to the biker who chose that particular moment to walk by wearing his flip-flops!)

Brett bought our tickets and thrilled the kids with the news that our passes allowed us multiple trips up the mountain - time and weather permitting.  With great expectations, we headed to the gondola and greeted the ticket-taker with six tickets and six smiles!

I truly wished I had recored for posterity the pure joy and gleeful excitement of the kids as we loaded the gondola.  The kids sat on one side of the enclosed car, looking ahead while Brett and I sat on the opposite side and bit our lips, trying not to laugh at their anticipation.

Their eyes were huge as they watched the car just before ours take off up the hill.  Then as we paused for a moment, just before the cable caught and pulled us up the mountain, they took a collective breath and yelled, "Wheee!"  There was laughter, clapping and shouts of excitement ... and I thought, "Wow. We really need to get these kids on an actual roller-coaster."

The nine-minute ride climbed 2,200 feet and every minute and foot was filled with outbursts of "Look at that!", "We're so high!", "I'm so scared (giggle, giggle, giggle)!" and "This is awesome!"  We watched mountain bikers wind down the mountain below us, we peered into the property surrounding the homes along the path and marveled at crazy and precarious constructions and kidney-shaped pools, and we laughed every time the wheels of our car vibrated over the support posts.  We could spy our condo at the base of the mountain ... just on the other side of the white-domed tennis courts.  We pointed out the straight-as-an-arrow Main Street of downtown.  We looked down valley and traced our route along the highway ... and Aaron boasted he could see our house.

When the ride finally came to an end, we popped out at 9,080 feet and took time for a few family pictures at the top of the world!  

We took a little nature hike through the aspens and fern - so different from our desert hikes here in the Grand Valley - and enjoyed the coolness of the mountain air.  

As our hike came to a close (and the kids came to the end of their oomph) we headed back down the hill.

... And enjoyed another exuberant and glee-filled descent.

Then lunch.  And another trip up the hill.  And a dessert of Mint Oreos on the sky deck.  And another trip back down.

And each time, in the moments when the the gondola car slowed to a stop, it was the same anticipation and the same uncontainable thrill.  What a treat to enjoy life through the eyes of a child!