Remembering

Pictures are an integral part of remembering. Quite often the only reason we remember a certain event in our life is because we have a picture of it. Certainly I have lots of memories without pictures to accompany them, but the only reason I remember making sugar cookies at the table with my Mom when I was 4 years old is because I have a picture of me sitting at the table with knarly hair and a rolling pin. The only reason I remember my bright yellow stir-up pant outfit with lace headband and bicycle-dangly earrings is because of the picture. Or the fact I dressed as a Native American for my 6th birthday party (most of my birthday parties consisted of costumes--its hard to keep them straight) is the picture.

I know I can't photograph or video tape every minute of my children's lives, but I do try to capture moments of them that will forever influence their memories of their childhood. Here are a few choice ones.

Lemonade Stand #?

Ella is getting quite the taste for business as she has now helped her friend sell lemonade several times. It's a great deal given that our neighbor supplies the ingredients and the stand and Ella comes home and puts quarters in her piggy bank. Nice work Ella!

Sisters Reading

I literally sprinted up and down two flights of stairs to grab the camera for this picture. These two are a great pair--Ella loves to read and Sam loves to be read to. I loved the two of them in the rocking chair with Ella's arm around her little sister before bed. My heart was putty.

All the World's A Stage

Elevated cement slab + a favorite dress + public audience in downtown Baltimore= a prime dancing venue.

A Basketball Star in Embryo

Samantha L-O-V-E-S balls, but basketballs in particular. She loves to shoot them in her small hoop and would watch me shoot them at our next door neighbor's all day long. She claps when I make the diaper shot into the diaper pail and yelps when I miss (and then she graciously goes to pick it up and put it in for me.) I'm thinking her love of the game combined with her aggressive tendencies--we've got college paid for.


Who am I kidding? These pictures may punctuate their childhood memories, but most importantly they'll punctuate mine and Brian's. When they're long gone cultivating new lives of their own, I just don't ever want to forget how happy they made our home.

Easter- Part II

Easter Bunny drama aside, we had a splendid Easter weekend. The weather even mostly cooperated. I'm regretting now that we didn't get a family Easter shot with all of us donning our Easter outfits--and the girls didn't really cooperate for their photo shoot.

Festivities included:

A junior primary easter egg hunt at Bishop and Nancy Marriott's home on Saturday, complete with trampoline jumping, storytelling and crafts. They had the most beautiful backyard for the hunt--the girls had a great time and officially kicked off their weekend of obscenely-high sugar consumption.

That evening, Brian and I splurged and went to see

at the National Theater. It's such a fun musical--we had a great time. And of course any time you get to dress up and go out on the town with your hubby is a treat. It gives you that little boost to be able to handle kids for another long week of your husband working late nights.


And then Sunday post-Easter baskets and church, we had our Easter egg hunt in our "new" backyard. Brian and Carrie, my cousin's sister-in-law (what? you don't know any of your cousin's sister-in-laws? You're missing out--this one is darling and devours my girls every chance she gets) took on the egg hiding responsibilities.

Complete with a zillion hiding places and two wild bunnies for effect it worked splendidly--and the girls raked in lots of loot. Ella was the old pro while Samantha poked around the backyard a little distracted.

It was hard to tell if she was actually looking for anything, but at one point she suddenly stopped dead in her tracks and lit upon an egg hidden up in an old birdfeeder. She wouldn't budge until my Mom lifted her up to retrieve the egg. Good eye, Sam!

This was the best picture I could get of the girls in their Easter dresses--they were fairly uncooperative.

Easter ranks high up on my list of favorite holidays--I love the season, traditions and the increased remembrance of our Savior's life and resurrection.

Phew-that's it for tonight. Two posts in one week is leaving me a bit light-headed. Good night.

Easter- Part I

The Easter Bunny Debacle

You'll recall last Christmas season I had some inner conflict about Santa. Now that Ella has reached an age where questions abound about how Santa and the Easter Bunny operate, I feel like more lies are told to cover up the lies. I know it's all about childhood innocence and the magic, blah, blah, blah--but I had kind of told myself that Santa I could do, the Easter Bunny I was going to downplay. I was hoping that we could have our Easter traditions and the Easter Bunny wouldn't even come into the equation. I decided I wouldn't deny the existence of the Easter Bunny, but I wasn't going to hype it up or concoct a whole bunch of lies to protect him.

Over a week ago, we're all driving in the car when the following exchange happens:

E: Mom, Ms. Susan says that the Easter Bunny will come to our house.
Me: Oh, she did? Hmmm. Well, really the Easter Bunny is about the spirit of Easter. He's a fun character that comes out at Easter time.
B: (under his breath) It's a slippery slope, dear.

Silence.

E: So he won't come to our house?
Me: We'll do lots of fun things at our house.

Silence.

I looked in my rear view mirror to see Ella pensively staring out the window.

My heart broke.

In a matter of 10 seconds I feared that I had killed the Easter bunny. I felt a portion of my daughter's innocence evaporate. What had I done??? I kept replaying the conversation back in my head. Maybe Ella hadn't understood what I was saying. I mean, I was vague enough, right? She's only 5-years-old--did she interpret that to mean there was no Easter bunny? Why didn't I think this through more?

And so, I decided I somehow had to resurrect the Easter bunny. The next day as a way of assuaging my guilt, I went to Target to buy all kinds of things for the Easter Bunny to bring. Gobs of candy, stickers, Polly pockets, bubbles, nail polish, lip gloss, Easter socks--this Easter Bunny was going to rock. The next task was to casually slip in to conversation that the Easter Bunny exists.

So I waited for Ella to bring it up again. Surely she would. Ella is an extremely cerebral child. She analyzes everything. She'll ask you an onslaught of questions--internalize your answers for a day or two, come back with new questions. No stone is left unturned. She wants logical explanations to everything. Perhaps this is why Santa and the Easter Bunny have been difficult--she wants to know everything. (The conversations about death from the past month and a half after my Grandma's passing is material for another post.)

But Ella never brought the Easter bunny up again.

It didn't help that after I came out of my bathroom from blow-drying my hair one morning, Ella sat on my bed and said, "Mom, was I supposed to see that Polly Pocket thing in your closet?"
"Um, no" I replied. "That was a surprise. I guess it's not any more."
Great. More cover-ups were needed. I couldn't put the Polly Pocket in her basket from the Easter Bunny, because she knows I bought it. I had a chalk-full week and couldn't go exchange it for another one or get something else. Plus she was on spring break and she certainly couldn't accompany me to the store. Aaargh.

So last Thursday, while Brian was working late, Ella and I started dying Easter eggs. This was it--we had to talk about the Easter Bunny.
Me: So have you thought about what the Easter Bunny might bring you?
E: (eyes wide open) But Mom, I thought you said the Easter Bunny wasn't real!
Shoot. I was right. How could I have been so heartless?
Me: Oh Ella, I'm sorry. The Easter Bunny will come to our house. I'm sorry I made you think he wouldn't.
E: Oh my gosh. I'm so excited. I hope he brings me some more pet shop animals and lots of candy. How does he get in our house? Does he come down the chimney like Santa? It's a good thing he's a bunny and can hop fast to get to everyone's house...

And the deluge of questions continued. So I swallowed, answered her questions the best I could and basked in the joy of a young child so eager to believe.

The Easter Bunny now lives again. A certain little girl anxiously awaited his arrival, not falling asleep for the night until at least 1:30am (she outlasted me). But he ate our carrots (left in front of the fireplace) and filled our baskets with goodies.

PS- A big thanks goes to the Harpers for granting us the use of your bunny for pics.

PPS- Is it possible my children will need therapy by the time I'm done raising them?

Full Swing into Spring

With it 70 degrees and sunny today, we can't help but rejoice. There is something about warmth and sunshine that changes you. It puts spring in your step, makes you WANT to clean your home, and your yard suddenly becomes an additional room to your house. Our delightful weather leaves tomorrow, but we will hold on dearly and wait for its return.

Here are a few snippets of spring around here.

Re-discovering our yard.

Since we weren't in our home yet last spring, we're enjoying watching what pops up. With this being Samantha's first spring being mobile, she walks around the yard and touches every plant and flower. It's quite darling.

A little spring cleaning...

Celebratory dance parties in the kitchen.

(Why, oh why, do they have to occur at 5pm--right in the middle of making dinner? I know I could send her elsewhere, but she goes through a lot of effort to bring her CD player and dolls down for the performance--and I'm an integral part of the audience.)

Springy new crocs...

Outside play time WITHOUT coats.

And of course trampoline static does wonders for your hair.

The return of the bunnies.

The number, by the way, in our yard appears to have doubled. Our one from last year is now two. If we double every year, we could have a serious problem. I'm slightly concerned these two will become parents shortly. My plans for a garden are in serious question.

And I, a DC native, finally ventured to see the cherry blossoms on the tidal basin. The blossoms are one of those things that you know will be there every year, and so you figure you'll make it the next year. But today, we had a beautiful, unusually free Sunday morning and took a stroll under the blossoms. They are indeed lovely, but somehow the beauty is partly lost when I'm sharing it with a gazillion other people. We did see three presidential helicopters fly overhead--whether Obama was in them, we know not. But if I had a helicopter at my disposal, I'd ask to fly over the blossoms every day. That would surely be more enjoyable.

Peek-a-boo amongst the trees:

Apparently another reason to dance:

Now...if only spring would bring about motivation to blog more often. I'll work on that.

Success.

I did it.

I ran the National Half-Marathon yesterday.

I ache all over, my quads are stiff as boards, but

I'm delighted through and through.

Nothing feels so good as achieving a goal. It was exhilarating. The months of training paid off. My biggest fans cheered me into the finish line: Brian, Ella, Samantha and my parents.

These are the lovely ladies I had the privilege of running with. We loaded up on pasta the night before at Gina's home.

Me, Laura (who ran the half with me), Gina (ran the full marathon), Debbie (friend of Jackie's who flew in on Friday to cheer) and Jackie (who also ran the full).

And of course Laura and I afterwards...a little dazed, but delighted.

This picture of me with the girls after the race is amusing. Ella is wrapped in my blanket and Samantha is eating my banana after I'm the one who ran 13 miles. A mother's love knows no bounds.

People keep asking me what my next race will be. I don't know the answer to that yet. But today, as I waddle around, I have little interest. I'm hoping that the effects of running a race are similar to childbirth. After you go through it, you are convinced you don't want to endure that pain again. But then as time passes, the memory of the accomplishment and sheer joy from the experience is what lingers. And that ends up being enough to do it again.

We'll see.

In Memoriam

Josephine Parrish Spring

July 4, 1918 - March 3, 2009

My beautiful Grandma left this world early Tuesday morning, taking her last breath while in my Mother’s arms. My heart aches. I miss her terribly. She was my mentor, listening ear, shopping companion, frequent lunch date, and dear friend.

Till we meet again, Grandma. I love you.

Girls, Girls Everywhere

Part I. Samantha

Our littlest girl just turned 18 months this past week. It seems to be a transition age from babyhood to toddler-dom. As it was with Ella, it has been a joy to see Samantha's little personality reveal itself.

Here are some highlights of our baby, which I realize is more interesting to us than to most of you, but it’s for the record.

Following the example of her sister, she talks constantly. Of course, most of it is still indecipherable, but she has something to say about everything. Words are starting to manifest themselves more and more. Words consist of: baby, Mama (used 1000x a day), Da, bye, hi. And sounds that actually mean something: “B” = book, “Bah”=ball, “Peez”=please, “ah duh”= all done.

She is obsessed with putting things on her head. Hats, helmets, sippy cups, magnets, books, small toys, etc.

We play peek-a-boo at least twenty times a day.

She L-O-V-E-S her pacifier. She is kinder to it than anything/anyone else. I dread the day when we choose to deprive her of her first love. It will be a sad day in Samantha’s world. She swings it in the toy baby swing, pushes it in the stroller, will climb two flights of stairs to retrieve it. Speaking of two flights of stairs, I think she did it in 10 seconds flat today. And instead of climbing down them, she situates herself feet first, straightens her body completely out and glides down the front edge of each stair.

She loves to slide, dance, bounce to music, talk on the phone.

Her favorite place is to be in the kitchen with me. And the toy kitchen is one of her favorite toys.

Maybe we have a chef in our future. She'll run from the other side of the house when she hears me turn the mixer on.

She knows exactly how to push her sister’s buttons and mine. We’re learning what it’s like to have an aggressive child: one who bites, grabs, hits and takes things. She puts small objects in her mouth only when I’m watching. And she waits to throw food from her highchair until I look her way. She climbs to the top of the stairs, waits for me to start up the stairs to fetch her, only to begin to jump off the top stair so that I have to bust a move to catch her. We have often prided ourselves on how gentle and mild-mannered Ella has always been—surely it was our calm dispositions and stellar parenting. We’re not quite sure where the fire in Samantha’s belly came from. The look on her face in this picture somewhat captures the mischief in her eyes.

She eats just about everything. She eats blueberries like candy. And she devours my Mom’s chocolate chip cookies, which my Mom liberally gives her.

She is terrified of the caterpillar at the beginning of the Baby Einstein videos. She'll watch it with her hands over her eyes, allowing just a glimpse between two of her fingers.

Most of the time, she adores her big sister. She hugs her often, loves to climb on her and stroke her hair.

She wildly applauds after Ella’s violin practices and after Ella says a prayer before a meal. Ella’s room is the mecca of all play areas. It’s where the good stuff is. She has little use for toddler toys—Littlest pet shop, Barbies and Webkinz are preferred. And when Ella justifiably closes the door to keep Sam out, there is banging and crying on the other side.

She can be snuggly in your arms or incredibly independent.

She loves water and would gladly spend the day in the tub if I'd let her.

I adore her to no end and live in amazement that she and Ella are mine.

Part II.
Many of you know I have a complicated extended family. I have three biological and three step-siblings. Two of my biological (Caylor) siblings also have children. And all of them are girls (with the exception of my sister’s adopted son). Eight girls in a row. We are a double-X kind of family. My brother, David and his family paid us a visit last week. With their four girls, it is girl heaven. Ella can’t sit still for days prior to their arrival because she can’t stand the excitement. We had a great couple of days with them, complete with dress-up, dancing, a sleepover and Barbie movies.

And to give David a small break from the estrogen, we made a trip to the Udvar-Hazy Air and Space Museum. One of my favorite museums in DC--they have some amazing aircrafts. You can walk right under an actual Space Shuttle or look into the cockpit of the Enola Gay.

Since my brother is a pilot, you can’t go wrong with sticking him in a gigantic room of airplanes. We had to chuckle at this little propeller plane--it's what he learned to fly on. I'm just glad he and his wife, Janene, survived their many flights on it.

Thanks for coming to see us, Caylors!

With all that said, I'm off to bed. With 4-9" of snow coming our way tonight, I'm bracing myself for a snow day tomorrow. Sigh.