Silhouette Party...You're Invited!

I'm not a real party girl. I left my partying days somewhere in the late 90's (along with my water bra from Victoria's Secret, my black micro-mini skirt, and my boufant hair - which, unfortunately, I hung on to longer than most). Truth be told, I also left my hot micro-mini-wearing body in the last decade as well and oh, how I miss it. However, in the name of charity, I am having a party...and the best part is that you are invited (micro-minis and water bras optional).

You see, I'm walking in a local heart walk again this year to raise money for the American Heart Association. For those of you who don't know the story about my dad's heart attack (just hours after I had Ellie), go here to get caught up. I'll wait.

Okay...so I've been trying to think of fun ways to raise money and I saw this post on the Nester's web site about silhouettes. Check it out. I'll wait, again.

Truth is, I've never been a really big fan of silhouette's...they brought to mind images of Edgar Allen Poe and creepy Halloween witches. That is, until the Nester's post. And I realized that silhouette's are classic, timeless pieces that everyone should have. Here's the thing that keeps weighing on me: My sweet little girls are growing so quickly. Their little chins and tiny little button noses and pouty little lips will soon be bigger and more grown up looking. I wish I could find a way to stop time and keep them just as they are...so I take a million photos and I blog about them and I pray that God will help me to be "present" and enjoy their childhoods. And that's why we all need silhouettes...to remember our sweet kids and their tiny little profiles.

So...back to the party. I contacted the silhouette artist (Lena Bengtson) and asked her if we could do a fundraiser for the American Heart Association. She agreed and I'm having a party! Whoo Hooo! What's not to love about a wild and crazy silhouette party? Here are the details:

When: Thursday, June 17

Time: 9:30 a.m. - 1 p.m.

Location: Holly's House

Notes: Stop by (with your kids) any time between 9:30 a.m. and 1 p.m. on June 17 to check out the sample silhouette items, have your child's profile photo taken, and place an order. These would make a great Christmas present for Grandparents and you could cross that off your to do list when life gets hectic this fall (how's that for a sales pitch?). I think the cost for a silhouette is around $20. She also offers Christmas ornaments. If you can't come but are still interested in placing an order, just leave a comment here and we can work it out.

But wait...there's more! The first 5 people to RSVP will get a jar of my irresistable, nearly world-famous, homemade strawberry jelly. That's an even better sales pitch, don't you think?

Let me know if you have questions or need directions. I hope you can come - Lena is going to donate 25% of the profit to the American Heart Association. So come on girls...let's party!

On tomato plantlings (and beer-drinking boyfriends)

Recently, I have learned that one tomato plant, which starts out as a wee, tiny plantling (is that a word?), grows up to be a ginormous, food-bearing monster. Who knew? Obviously no one in this family and after a relaxing shopping trip at our church's annual plant sale, we are now the proud owners of ten wee, tiny tomato plantlings. Yes, ten. And no, I do not have a huge garden...or any garden, for that matter. We just couldn't walk by all those plantlings without taking home ten (and we threw in six pepper plantlings, for good measure).


Being the experienced and worldly gardeners that we are, we put three tomato plantings and two pepper plantlings in decorative pots on our patio. They look cute and cozy all stuffed in there, and I could picture them talking about all the good meals they will make together. That is, until my even more experienced and worldly gardener friends told me that there is NO WAY three tomato and two pepper plantlings can coexist in one small pot for the entire summer (as their mouths gaped open and their eyeballs shot out of their heads - of all the gardening faux pas...what was I thinking?).

This whole crowded pot thing reminds me of my first college roommate...I was stuffed into a tiny dorm room with someone who cramped my style (and brought her beer drinking, boxer-short wearing, 20-something boyfriend in with her). Steve and I have discussed this situation (the plantlings, not the beer-drinking boyfriend) and have decided against creating a real garden at this late date. And so, we will leave the tomato and pepper plantlings to work it out amongst themselves. Oh, the excitement and drama that should ensue...I can't wait to see what will happen! I just hope those old pepper plants don't invite their beer-drinking, boxer-short wearing, 20-something boyfriends into the mix...things are sure to get ugly then!

Happy Mudder's Day...

On Sunday, our home was filled with tiny little hands bearing gifts, home made cards to be treasured, and an original "Stevemark" (as opposed to Hallmark) poem that made me laugh. I had an awesome mother's day weekend, complete with Duncan Donuts, chocolate marshmallow stuffed croissants, stir fry, and fillet mignon (because my husband knows that food = happiness to me). The first thing I heard when I woke up (after sleeping in later than everyone else...because my husband also knows that sleeping in comes in a close second behind food on my happiness scale) was the sound of two little girls shouting "Happy Mudder's Day" as I walked into the kitchen. And the last thing I heard from one tiny little red-headed two-year old that night was, "Happy Mudder's Day...I lub you, Mama."

I think I enjoyed this Mother's Day more than any before it. I hope I will always remember what an amazing blessing it is to be called Mom (or Mama, as Ellie prefers). Sure, I deserve to be celebrated (so bring on the donuts and the poems and the fillet mignon). But on Mother's Day, I think we should also celebrate the gift that we have been given- the chance to share our life with our sweet kids. It is a dream that many women are still praying for, still hoping for. This weekend, I prayed for all of those women who are still waiting for the day when they will walk into the kitchen amid shouts of "Happy Mudder's Day," and "I lub you, Mama." May their prayers be answered as graciously as mine have, and may they know the joy that comes with motherhood.

Kate was so excited about these "special seeds." She told me last week that they planted special seeds for mother's day but that it was a surprise. Then she looked at me and said, "Shhh...don't tell anyone, okay?" It was our little secret!
For those of you who don't know, Steve loves to buy cards...lots of cards. Everyone gets at least two Hallmark cards from Steve on their birthday. I'm not a huge card fan - I prefer handwritten notes and funny poems. So this year, I got a "Stevemark" original...much better than a Hallmark card in my book!

Love this picture of me. Must talk to my hair stylist about the strange yellow and brown striped hair. Oh...and I wanted to note that I am NOT the same age as daddy - I am 5 years younger than daddy. Just sayin'.

This is Ellie's sweet card for me. I can't imagine how they got her to hold her hands still long enough to make it, but I suspect it took extra helpers!

Welcome to 34...

April is always a month of celebration around here. A few weeks ago I baked this amazing cake (just don't tell anyone that the M&M's on the cake were in my freezer since last Halloween, okay?), planned a party, and joyfully welcomed my friends Sara and Sheila to 34. I always feel a little lonely (and a little old) for the four months between my birthday and theirs. And so, April brings cause for celebration!

I'm not exactly sure what's happening in this picture. Somehow, Sheila became the jungle gym for the evening!
Poor Baby Blake wasn't thrilled with his princess attire for the party. Look at him standing by the window...just wishing someone would let him outside to do the grilling with the "men folk."

Happy Birthday, girls, and welcome to your middle 30's! Good thing we just keep getting hotter, smarter, skinnier, and more charismatic. Ha! If only that was true! But we are getting happier, funnier, and more confortable in our (now slightly saggy) skin. That has to count for something, right?

I Prayed for Balls...

Several years ago I used to wake up early in the mornings and walk Bentley before I went to work. I loved those quiet, peaceful mornings. We lived in a different neighborhood at the time and one of my favorite parts of my morning walks was checking out the neighbors' houses. Have you ever noticed how much more you can take in when you're walking instead of driving? I took note of trees and shrubs that I liked and flowers that I thought we should plant. I became friendly with yapping dogs that were happy to see Bentley and I along the way. And every day, at the cute little house on the corner, I would slow down and count the balls in the yard. That family had two small children, and they always had tennis balls, soccer balls, baseballs, and footballs sprinkled tastefully throughout the yard. My highest count was seven...seven balls in the yard at one time.

The truth is, I was jealous of their balls, or rather, what they represented - a happy, growing family. At the time, I desperately wanted a few balls sprinkled around my yard, telling the story of the children who lived there. Unfortunately, there were no balls in my yard and no children in my home. I had just finished my second round of IVF and I had just had my third miscarriage. It was a sad time and I remember praying every morning as I passed that house, for God to bless us with this picture of happiness. Yes...I prayed for balls (and the children who would leave them all over my yard).

One year later my prayers were answered, and today I do not complain when my girls leave their balls all over the yard. I hope they tell the story of the happy, growing family who lives here...and a mom who no longer counts balls, but counts her blessings instead.

This week is Infertility Awareness Week. If you or someone you know is struggling to conceive, please know that you are not alone and that there is hope. No matter how you build your family, whether through adoption or IVF or a suprise pregnancy, there will come a day when this heartache is gone and you, too, will count your blessings (and the balls that fill your yard).

Photography lessons from a 4-year-old

When I was in college, I steered clear of all the teaching majors. I just couldn't see myself leading small groups of children anywhere, much less towards goals in math and science and reading. Today, I find myself teaching all the time, from the basics (like how to wipe a bum and how to brush teeth) to the more advanced (like how to be a good friend and how to get free stuff by couponing at CVS). Okay, I haven't started on the CVS lesson yet with my girls, but I assure you, I will.

What I have heard often from my teacher friends is that they learn as much from their students as their students learn from them. I thought that was just a cliche - something they said because it made them sound like the Mother Theresa of the teaching world. But as I continue on this "teaching journey" with my girls, I have found myself thinking that exact same sentiment (and trust me, i am no Mother Theresa). I have learned invaluable things from my girls, which I hope to write about in the future. But today's lesson is a photography lesson that Kate taught me. Yes, my four-year-old knows a thing or two about photography. We have spent many moments with her parked in my lap, huge camera in hand, aimed at whatever is in front of her face at the moment. What I realized is that Kate's pictures are often more interesting than mine. We may be shooting the same subject, but the angle of her pictures and the way she frames the subject is funkier, cooler, more intriquing. Check them out:

These photos tell a better story than traditional photos. They tell the story of a wild pony, grazing his way along the sand dunes; a little sister in her pajamas on a windy day; a group of preschoolers at the end of a fun birthday party.

I love Kate's photos and after studying them, I realized that I could recreate her style. I learned to get low and look at things from different angles. That's the difference between a snapshot and an amazing photograph. Don't be afraid to lay on the ground and point your camera up or put your camera in the grass and shoot strait toward your subject or stand on a table and shoot down. Crawl around. Get dirty. Feel the stares of passing strangers. It's okay. Your photographs will improve and that's what really matters. It's just a little lesson I learned from a 4-year-old.

I've got the Joy...

Last year, I bought this hideous mirror with a plastic, gold frame at a yard sale. Steve thought I had lost my mind when I drug it into the house, but I was thrilled. I love yard sales, and I love to imagine what the "junk" could become. The problem is that I'm not that crafty. My college roommates still tease me about my basket weaving skills (or lack thereof). But I love the idea of craftiness and I'm envious of girls with a knack for creative decorating. When I grow up, I want to be them. For now, I buy yards of fabric with plans to make curtains and pillows, even though I can hardly thread a needle, and I drag home tacky gold mirrors that spend their days in my dark basement. Until a few weeks ago, when I had an idea, bought some spray paint and went to work on the hideous mirror (sorry...I don't have any before photos, but trust me...it was bad).
Today, it looks like this:

The night we hung it in our hallway, I knew immediately that I wanted to write "Joy" on it. I don't know why...maybe I was just full of joy at my new-found craftiness! So I wrote on the board and went to bed. Briefly. A few hours later, Kate woke up crying and whining and I couldn't figure out what was wrong. She told me (around 1 a.m.) that she was really hungry for pancakes, and I decided that pancakes at 1 a.m. sounded pretty good to me, too. So we headed down to the kitchen for a late-night snack...where she proceeded to throw up all over everything, just a few feet from my "Joy" sign. Nice. She threw up five more times that night. I made many trips past that "Joy" sign and at one point I started laughing. Maybe I was exhausted and delirious, but I do believe that God had a plan when He put the word "Joy" in my mind (and on my new chalkboard). He definitely has a sense of humor and it was not lost on me that long, puke-filled night...full of Joy.

The Pursuit of Perfect Skin Tones...

One of my favorite past times (besides clipping coupons, which is bordering on an addiction of paint sample proportions these days) is studying the photos of really good photographers. I love when the photo is so clear that you feel like you could touch the person in it. Mostly, I've been trying to figure out why my photos don't look that "real" or that great.

I've discovered lots of things, but here's an important one: Great photos of people have true-to-life colors and good skin tones. The skin doesn't look yellow or gray or red or bluish. It's skin-tone. Perfectly colored. I haven't figured out how to get true-to-life colors and perfect skin-tones, but I have learned that white balance is important. Here's my very uneducated explanation of white balance: Certain lights (florescent indoor lighting, bright sunny outdoor lighting, flash lighting, etc.) have colors associated with them. So in some lighting situations, your photos look bluish and in some they look reddish and in others they look yellowish. Rarely do they look skin-tonish. But there is a button on a lot of cameras that will change the white balance based on the lighting. You should play with that and see what it does. Some cameras also allow you to set the White Balance yourself so that you tell your camera what is white in that setting/lighting and then it adjusts itself. I haven't figured that out yet (if anyone knows how, feel free to comment).

What I have figured out is how to do a little white balance adjustment in Photoshop. I took a few photos that I thought were good already and then I fixed the white balance in Photoshop. See exhibits A, B, and C (imagine me pointing daintily, "Vanna White style" to the photos below). Note: the photos on the left (or top) are the before and the photos on the right (or bottom) are the after. You may have to click on the photos to see the whole thing.

These photos aren't even close to the "realness" of one of my favorite photographers, Ashley Ann (photo below reprinted with permission of Ashley Ann - check out her blog. You will love it!)

Now that is some seriously, beautiful skin-tonish loveliness. Doesn't it feel like you're right there next to him? Putting her picture next to mine makes me feel bad. Maybe she would travel here and teach us a thing or two? I would have my people call her people, except my people are all under 3 feet tall and don't dial the phone yet. But if you have Photoshop and want a quick fix for some basic white balance issues, click here for a web site with a fast and easy description (which is exactly what I did to the photos above).

And if you're Ashley Ann and you want to offer a photography class about 1000 miles East of you, I'll start cleaning the spare room in preparation for your visit!

It's Italiano...

After Steve and I had been dating for a few weeks, he invited me to his house for dinner with his family. Dinner with the family can be very overwhelming, especially when it is a large, Italian family. But Steve was cute and I figured I could handle it, so I agreed to go. I was getting my wisdom teeth out two days before the Big Dinner, but I thought... how bad could it be? When I found out we were having spaghetti, I was so thankful. Something slippery and easy to eat...perfect for my sore mouth and my hugely puffy chipmunk cheeks. Yes, I did show up to the Big Dinner with chipmunk cheeks. And I learned something about Italian cooking that night. Spaghetti with homemade sauce is not - I repeat, NOT - a suitable meal for a chipmunk girl. Seriously. Homemade spaghetti sauce (at least the way Steve's family makes it) is far different than my traditional and much loved Ragu. I took one bite and felt sure my huge cheeks were going to burst into flames. Saying that it was hot is an understatement. I pretended to eat it, while I wondered how I was going to extinguish the fire in my mouth (and still be polite and kind and likable during the Big Dinner). Thankfully, I learned another great thing about Italian families that evening...everyone talks and laughs and drinks red wine in generous amounts. So when they weren't looking, I slid my bowl (yes, Italians eat pasta in bowls...how weird is that?) to Steve and said in a very firm voice "Here, EAT IT." Which he graciously did.

Today, nearly 14 years later, we laugh about the Big Dinner and my flaming chipmunk cheeks. Recently, Steve wanted to introduce Kate to the fun of Italian cooking (the real way, not the Ragu way that takes place in our household). So we made a trip to Steve's parents to make ravioli. Everything in the ravioli was homemade by Steve's dad - the pasta, the cheese, and the sauce. Isn't that amazing? Who makes cheese these days? Kate had a fun time helping in the kitchen and the rest of us enjoyed the awesome, true Italian meal. Thankfully, my cheeks have even learned to handle the flaming spaghetti sauce!


Thanks Pop Pop and LoLo for the great dinner! Salud! (see, I am becoming Italian, sort of).

Spa Day...

Okay, so it wasn't really a spa day, but Ellie got her hair cut for the first time. She loved it and I think she would go every day if she could. Check out her face...she thinks she is just the coolest thing around. The best part of every haircut is Miss Dixie's braids. The girls love them (probably because their mommy is lacking in the hair styling department). Check it out...