It Takes Two Grown Men

I had to laugh at these summer photos I just rolled across. Snaps and arm holes are not a man's friend.

Ahhh, Drat! I Don't Live in Marrakesh

 He's always doing this to me. I'll look at the weather forecast and catch my breath ... "What?! Sunny skies? Eighty degrees? What luck, what joy!!"

And then. I notice. Marrakesh. I don't live in Marrakesh.

Peter views humor as a covert operation. He almost always wins.

(And yes, the clock is set for Mumbai time and the calculator has a most impressive computation. Why? I guess because it is just cool to know these things ...)

How to Cure a Bonked Noggin. Apparently.

Apparently little Jane bonked her noggin while I was out. Apparently, heads feel better when a bag of frozen edamame is wrapped in a towel and secured to head with a checkered orange scarf.

Dads always know just what to do. Apparently.

Mothers and Fathers

"What do you do? You're just a housewife and slave, aren't you? A nursemaid to a bunch of kids?" ---"No, I have a fantastic job, a terrific career. I am a curator in a museum --- a museum of memories!"

"You're tied down by a whole family. What a bore! Don't you wish you could get away with the fellows for a real good time?" --- "No, I can't waste my time that way. I'm a collector, you see. I have to spend my time collecting, whenever I'm not tied up in work. I am collecting memories for our family museum!"

-What Is A Family?, Edith Schaeffer

Valley of the Sun, Pt. VII

Yes, dear. You are most impressive. In every way. And really, I'm not laughing at you. It's just a nervous giggle because I am so overwhelmed by your man-beauty and general magnificence.

I am one. lucky. girl.

Well, we tried to take a family picture and this is the best we could do ...

Unless we magically manage a better group photo this weekend, this is what's going in the Christmas cards. Out of 50 shots, this is the best we could do. An ape boy, a mildly amused mother, a cute tot, a father who thinks he's Tommy Lee Jones in some cinematic thriller, and an overly perturbed girl-child who won't look at the camera.

Just keepin' it real, girls. Keepin' it real.

Prudence Tries Again

I once heard someone say that they regularly try to do things with their kids that they are not good at. Or at the very least, may stand a reasonable chance to experience failure.

So often we find ourselves encouraging our children to push for success. "You can do it!" we applaud. This is a good thing. A parents' blind belief that their children are amazing and possess a wide berth of potential can be a great source of security and motivation for a child.

However. We don't always experience success, despite our best efforts and cheers from the sidelines. And that's okay, isn't it. Life is full of grand attempts ... and grand failures, too.

Oddly, what is prudent may not always be what feels natural.

Because sometimes it's good to try things that may result in peals of laughter ... rather than rounds of applause. I think it's good for my kids to see that in action.

Because even if we fail, we can always try again. And sometimes we even succeed.

Prudence Takes a Leap

Yesterday, I described our most recent form of family entertainment. The zipline. I shared how I had some mom-ish misgivings, but how easily swayed I became when I witnessed their sheer delight and obvious aptitude for the thing.

So. I decided to try it myself. Up on the fence I scrambled, scurried down to the end like a giant squirrel with an inner-ear problem, and readied myself for the jump.

"Jump big," Pops tells me, "'cause you don't want to smack into the fence." I'm good at following instructions. I grabbed onto the rope ... and jumped big.

Really big. Like, so big my adult-sized body sailed up into the air with an abandon that should never be attempted ... unless your grip is super tight, your legs are tucked under you firmly, and you are ready for the jolt that comes when your body weight snaps against the overhead wire ...

... of which, I did none. 'Cause I was only told to "Jump Big!" Which I did.

And wouldn't you know ... my grip slipped.

And then I slipped.

And then I ended up on my back in the dirt. Laughing hysterically.

And my children hovered to see if I was okay and why I was laughing so much. And my husband kept taking pictures.

So that, my friends, is a real-life example of what happens when you hoist Prudence up to a homemade zipline and tell her to jump big.

The End.

A Male Perspective

I was most charmed by this catalog cover. Apparently, my menfolk don't have the same appreciation for aesthetic that I do.

An Inspired Series

Thank you, one-dollar sunglasses. You inspire us down to our intellectual core.

Happily Abandoned and Recovered Again

There isn't anything about my phase of life I would change. Even the hard stuff. God has been abundant in his blessings and gracious in His provisions. However. Given an opportunity to have no responsibilities and excessive time to myself? I'll snatch it up in a heartbeat!

This past weekend, the boys were at "Man Camp" and my mother offered to host a weekend for my girlies, leaving me ... all alone. For the first time EVER I spent a weekend by myself, with no one else around. It was a first in a very big way.

So, I decided to approach the whole weekend in a "firsts" sort of way. A nice mix of kicking my feet up and doing new things.

Friday afternoon. Beginning the adventure of firsts. After reserving and picking up a free pass to the art museum (that we didn't really get a chance to see a few weeks ago) from the library, I headed into the city for my own solo viewing. It was a gorgeous evening to be out. I strolled the museum for an hour or so, taking time to sit and stare. I was mesmerized by an enormous Monet. It was a water lily painting as I've seen many times in print, but in person, I was stunned by the texture and the surprising neon quality to the floating flowers. So electric, yet serene.

Photo via PANet

I was also quite taken with a room of Grotjahn's Dancing Black Butterflies. If you stood in the room and slowly spun yourself around, the paintings seem to flutter in the hurky-jerky, yet graceful way a butterfly does. Fascinating.

But that's where my sedate and sophisticated evening ended.

Right before I exited the museum I stopped in at the restroom only realize, "Gasp! Where did my favorite belt go? Oh my goodness! I took it off while driving, laid it in my lap, and I bet it fell off into the street when I parked and stepped out of the car!" So out I dashed, down three city blocks, to the car in my heels ('cause you know I wore them since I was pretending to be all chic and carefree for the night!), searched the car and the curb and came up empty. "Drat! I bet it could be at the first place I parked, only to realize it was a 30 minute spot and had to hop back into the car and find a new spot."

So, down the street I clippty-clopped, imagining some punked-out skateboarding teenager wearing my darling belt and having to wrestle him to the ground to re-possess it. But, as I neared the location, there it was, all dejected and huddled by the curb. My belt had been waiting for me and cleverly hid itself from the skateboarding masses. I quickly snatched it up, petting it and whispering words of comfort, and scuttled quickly away from the spiky-haired youths who were, most certainly, wondering what the crazy lady on the sidewalk was skulking about for.

Hunting for a belt on city streets? A definite first.

image via departure gallery

Back in the car, be-belted once more, and trying to settle down and behave like a sane person, I headed off to my next first. Dinner at a restaurant, by myself. I confidently had made reservations for one at a swanky top-floor restaurant (in a refurbished old building that my mother and I used to lunch at) to sample their speciality, another first for me, sushi. To sum up ... loved the sushi, not the excessive swank.

While the food was delicious and the view and vibrant setting was exciting, it became quickly apparent to me that I was waaaay out of my element and way not cool enough for the establishment. My first cue may have come when my server quite nearly rolled her eyes when I told her I was not ordering alcohol that night and then the second cue may have been giggling to myself realizing that the vintage Grace Livingston Hill book I brought to read, pretty much advertised the fact I was more out of place than a mud-wrestler at a white sale.

By the time the next day had arrived, I was feeling back to my old self and not at all like a figurative mud-wrestler. I spent the day doing a little shopping and general loafing about. However, I did manage to squeeze in another first ... getting my eyebrows done. I've always wanted to do this!

And yes, I know I look kind of mean here. Sorry. It's hard to take a picture of your own face and not show the concentration. Nevertheless, I was quite happy with my eyebrows and I don't think I look overly surprised as I was worried I might. Look okay?

That evening, I changed into some nice stretchy pants and made myself and my eyebrows a nice pasta dinner. I enjoyed my solitary meal and mused that my weekend of firsts had been successfully executed. After I stood up to clear and clean my dishes, I happened to look down and realize ... the pockets of my stretch pants were not at the front where they were supposed to be, but hanging out on my bum instead. Turns out, I ate dinner with my pants on backwards. Apparently, "firsts" can occur without even trying.

My family is home now and I'm quite happy about it. I had a marvelously quiet, tidy, and lonely weekend, but I'm happy to be back in the chaotic swing of regular life. I'm well rested, sporting well-groomed eyebrows and my pants are on correctly. I'm feeling good.

Summer in the City, Pt. 1

This past weekend, Pops and I planned to have a date night. But, as things worked out, we scrapped the baby-sitter plan and decided to make a family event of it.

Naturally, date nights are needed and wonderful. We will try again soon. However, a family day full of purposeful adventure was more delight than we bargained for. Into the city we went and spent the day behaving like tourists. Herewith, part one of our excursion:

First up? Rent a gigantic surrey down at the waterfront. Here you see everyone in excited anticipation ... and Lucette trying not to smile. (Why do kids do that?)

Surreys are fantastical entertainment in the same way I view ferris wheels: old-fashioned fun that is calm and sweet as an observer, but a down-right adrenaline ride once you hop on and really get moving. (I swear I once those ferris wheel carts get a-swingin' way up high, I feel like immanent doom is upon me. Scariest ride at the fair, if you ask me.) Anyhow, besides nearly running over myriad pedestrians, peddling maniacally on the streets ... then sidewalks ... then streets of downtown, and praying that no one toppled out or sliced their feet on the razor sharp pedals ... it was completely safe and lots of fun.

Lucette wrestled with sheer invigorated enthusiasm of the experience and then down-right terror.

Below, you see her frumping as we had just pedaled over one of the city's many bridges to the east side. These are not little bridges, as they span a river that hosts actual ships and barges. She was a little shook up over the experience, and I can't say I blame her. I have a freak-out thing about bridges and I fear she may have acquired my neurosis in this area. Here you see me happy and assured that all is fine. After all, we made it over the bridge and isn't the day is beautiful! However ...

... if you had a picture of us 30 minutes later, you'd see me in a near fit of hysteria. You see, we had to get back to the west side and cross yet another bridge. This one more scary than the first, as you could see through it, down, down, down into the river below. And wouldn't you know, halfway across, alarms started sounding. A colossal barge was coming through and the bridge had to accommodate. An unusual draw bridge, this one has a middle section that separates from the whole and rises vertically.

Being stuck on an active drawbridge terrifies me in a car. But on a giant open car-bike, with small children, and sandwiched between cars and a woven metal railing with a watery grave on the other side? Oh mercy, I was fit to be tied. If the kids hadn't been with us (forcing me to hold it together and quiver and cry silently--pathetic, I know), I think I would have lost it entirely.

But then, Jesus listened to my fervent prayers about death by bridges and surreys and brought us safely to the other side. Phew.

As soon as I had pulled myself together and thumbed my nose at death and it's futile attempt upon our lives ... the happy day could resume once more. Naturally, riding the surrey through the fountain was top on Pops' list. And I mean through the fountain. The family kicked me out after the first run because I kept screaming and laughing and drawing entirely too much attention.

And round and round they went, happy to be drizzled and splashed and just to be together. Pops always knows how to turn on the fun.

Summer day with the family, part one? Adventure found, smiles bright. A much more tame part two to come ...

Mother Triumphs Again

Sometimes they are willing participants in my camera-happy moments. But. Sometimes they are not.

Sometimes they bury their head in the sofa and yell out a muffled: "Mmmommmm!"

Sometimes I listen and respect their wishes.

And sometimes I don't. Bwwaahaahaa ...

The 4th In All It's Glory

Independence Day always comes as a mixed bag, for me. Love the flying flags, the red-white-&-blue, the barbeques, and the over-abundance of food. But the fire works? Meh. Kinda' loud, kinda' scary ... kinda' just freaks me out.

Of course, finding myself in a close network of family and friends who make homemade "boomers" out of black powder and non-dairy creamer (That would be Pops. Bizarre, right?) and beloved Grandpas that light the children's two-footed sparklers with an actual blow-torch could be where some of my issues stem.

Needless to say, I was so preoccupied, I took virtually no photos. And when Peter took a picture of Pops and myself, apparently I still managed to be distracted about the potential hazards Jane might be encountering during this fool-hardy moment of portraiture.

Or. It could be I was just so blinded by the fantastical fashion statement Pops was making. He wore this to church. Seriously, he did. (But tucked in, with a belt so it was more "dressy") A person sitting behind us mentioned they could barely concentrate on singing the hymn during the "stand-up" portion of the worship because she couldn't stop looking a his ensemble, and one man stopped us in the parking lot to tell Pops that, quote, "Those shorts are awesome, man. Really. It takes a real man to wear that. You're my hero."

Anyhow. Back to the more soothing elements of the celebration. Dessert. I baked a batch of Sweet Nest Brownies, but in a parchment lined jelly roll pan for 20 minutes, frosted with real chocolate frosting (Melt two squares unsweetened chocolate, cool and combine with 1/3 c. soft butter. Beat in 2 cups powdered sugar, 1.5 t. vanilla and 2 T milk or 'til creamy), sprinkled with turbinado sugar and topped with berries. Yum.

Now to get back into the swing of things this week. Anybody else in a post-holiday lazy slump like me?

To See Us in Our Natural Habitat

This past Saturday, we had a surprising patch of glory weather to break up our days of cloud and drizzle. So nice. We decided to head out to the nature park to explore the trails and appreciate some of the sun before it disappears again.

My girls have decided that scarves are very fashionable and barely set a foot out of doors without being adorned by one. Between a sundress, scarf, and a birthday party face-painting, my little buttercup picker felt very glamorous.

However, we did not maintain the image of refinement for long. As soon as the mind-bender word puzzles and math riddles started (yes, we are one of those families), our inner geek unearthed and happily flourished.

It wasn't long until there was a sighting of the woodland Methuselah. You know you are having a good time when ecology meets bible humor.

Then the children turned on their charm full force. Ah, how a mother's heart beams with pride ...

And us girls posed for a picture in an utterly enchanted walkway in our own utterly enchanting way. (Getting repeatedly rammed in the bottom by the head of a four-year old poses it's own difficulties. Why do they do that?)

Yup. I think that about sums up our Saturday. Aren't we just special?