Sand, Baby!

I love to walk barefoot on the beach and feel the sand between my toes. I love to sit in a beach chair with a good book in one hand, brushing my other hand over the warm sand beside me. I love the way cold sand feels in the evening when we're flying kites and running up and down the beach.

I think that's about the extent of my love of sand. Ellie, on the other hand, has found that her love of the sand is much more extensive than her mothers'.

She loves to walk in the sand...

Sit in the sand...

and practice her swimming techniques in the sand.

This girl loves her sand, there's no doubt about it. I love watching the joy that children find in the small things...things that seem like a nusance to us (like sand in every nook and cranny). I'm so happy that I get to watch these little girls experience life.

I'm also happy that it was Steve's turn to handle bath night!

For the Birds...

P.S. No seagulls were harmed and no little girls were pooped on during this experience!

The view from here...

I know summer is almost over, but we're trying to soak up every last ray of sunshine before it ends. My mom says we need to store it all inside us for those cold, dark February days! We usually plan our vacation for late August, when the rates drop and the coast is clear (do you remember that song by Jimmy Buffet called "When the Coast is Clear"). Anyway... our vacation has finally arrived and we are loving it! Check out the view from here:

So Happy Together...

I know I promised a reunion recap and I'll get to that...soon. But for now I wanted to share this fun story. Kate was outside helping Steve build a new swing set (another story that I will share soon) and I was inside making dinner (very domestic of me, huh? It was probably sloppy joes or grilled cheese- nothing fancy here). Anyway, Kate came running inside saying something about a frog and his family. She ran to the playroom and then ran back out of the house. I didn't think much of it until I went outside to call everyone for dinner. This is what I found:

Do you see it? Look closely...there's a little frog hiding under the grass. Kate was so happy that the frog family was together again!

Hot Pink

This weekend, I had a big event...and those don't happen too often around here! It was my 15 year class reunion. I remember that in college, getting ready for a big event was sometimes more fun than the event itself. My friends and I would laugh and share clothes, discuss make up and run up and down the dorm floor searching for the perfect shade of nail polish to match our outfits.

So... on Saturday, I was feeling a little sad that I didn't have any friends around to help me get dressed for the reunion, to laugh as I squeezed into that super tight girdle, or to reassure me that my shoes and my dress worked perfectly together. But then I remembered that I do have a little girl in my house who needed to be introduced to the fine art of primping and planning for a big night out. So I woke Kate up early from her nap, asked her if she wanted to help mommy get ready for a party, and solicited her advice on nail polish colors (which I later vetoed, because lime green with silver sparkles just didn't match my outfit).

We settled on hot pink, and we enjoyed a little girl time before the big event. The conversation wasn't quite as sophisticated and her knowledge of mineral based foundations was limited, but I'd say it was every bit as fun as those college days.

P.S. Up next...15 Year Reunion Recap!

Pop Secret

For Christmas last year, I asked Steve for an old-fashioned popcorn maker...like the ones we used to have way back in the 80's (before Microwaves...can you believe we're old enough to remember life before microwaves?). When I was little, we made popcorn every Tuesday night in preparation for the A-Team. Remember that show? I only remember half of it, because my bedtime was 8:30 and so I missed the conclusion every week. But I do know that I loved me some Mr. T. and his mohawk and chains....But the point of this story is not my love of Mr. T (which, by the way, pales in comparison to my love of Jordan Knight and Edward Cullin). This story is all about the popcorn, people. Focus on the popcorn.

When I opened my lovely little popcorn machine from Steve on Christmas day, I was thrilled beyond words. We waited until the kids were safely in bed (because making popcorn is serious adult business, I guess), we got out the popcorn kernals, plugged in the machine, and stared at each other, all giddy and such. You know what happened next, don't you? Scalding hot, unpopped kernals of corn came flying out of that machine all over the kitchen. Apparently, popcorn making is serious adult business and we forgot our safety goggles and teflon gloves. I can't believe how dangerous that machine was. We followed the directions to a T and we even tried it a second time, because we're crazy, I guess. Afterwards, I went on line to write a review of this ridiculously dangerous product and found that about a million other people beat me to it.

We returned the machine, but were left with a bottle of popcorn kernals just waiting for their chance to pop. I did a little internet research and found a fabulous thing...way better than a scary, 1980's popcorn maker. And I'm going to let you in on the secret... Step 1: Get ye to the store and buy some popcorn, butter sticks, and brown paper lunch bags. Don't be fooled...I don't really use Orville Redenbacher's popcorn. Well, I did once, but then I bought the cheapo popcorn in a bag and just dumped it in this container for easier storage.

Step 2: Measure 1/4 cup popcorn and dump it directly into the paper bag. Fold the top of the bag down three times and put it in the microwave with the folded side up (though I don't know if this matters). Microwave for 1 minute, 30 seconds (or so...depending on your microwave).

Step 3: While it's popping, measure some butter (yes, we use real, artery clogging butter...yum).

When the popcorn is done, take it out of the microwave and put the butter in for 20-30 seconds until melted.

Step 4: Dump popcorn in beautiful bowl (or not, that's up to you) and then dump melted, artery clogging butter all over it. Sprinkle heavily with salt (at least that's what we do) and ...

Step 5: Enjoy that old fashioned, popped in an air popper taste, which by the way, is so much better than the regular microwave popcorn that you buy at the store.

P.S. Special money saving tip: you can reuse the brown lunch bag many, many times if you don't dump the butter and salt into it. We just dump our popcorn into a bowl, put the bag back in the cabinet and save it for another day.

Flying Wallendas...

Ellie is practicing for her upcoming audition with the Flying Wallendas...see?

She's fearless, performing her high flying routine on the ceramic tile floor. We had a little discussion about this and I asked her to please keep her high flying antics on the carpeted area. She didn't seem to mind the change of venue...

When all was said and done, I think she was pretty happy with her performance...wouldn't you agree?

Turn it up...

Isn’t it funny how our lives are set to music? How we can hear a song and immediately be taken back to a certain time or place in our lives. I love music. I love all kinds of music, but I would say I’m a country music fan at heart. I’m not ashamed of it, though there have been times in my life that I haven’t openly discussed my country music choices, for fear that others would think I’m an uneducated, back-woods, beer-drinkin’, redneck.

My high school years were full of Alan Jackson and Garth Brooks. My friends and I decided to be Alan Jackson groupies. We went to concerts and stalked his tour bus, and one of us even ripped our jeans when we bent over to pick up his guitar pick (I’m not naming names, though I’m wondering if Gretchen still has that guitar pick). We drove through town blaring the “Chattahoochie” and singing loudly (a lovely sound, I’m sure, as three of us practically failed chorus). As I reread those last few sentences, I can see why we might have been considered uneducated, back-woods, rednecks.

My music tastes expanded greatly during the summers when I was a lifeguard at a local lake. We played cards, flirted, and got the perfect tans (and saved a few lives along the way) all while listening to The Eagles and the Steve Miller Band. Just hearing “The Joker” or “Seven Bridges Road” takes me right back to those lazy summer days at the lake.

My college roommates were not country music fans and instead of Alan Jackson and Garth Brooks, they introduced me to 10,000 Maniacs, Sheryl Crow, Natalie Merchant, Jewel, ABBA, Rusted Root, and Simon and Garfunkle. We spent our college days with Natalie Merchant telling us “These are the Days,” and ABBA reminding us that we were the “Dancing Queen.” And our road trip song was always, always “Cecilia” by Simon and Garfunkle. I still feel the need to crank up the radio to deafening levels every time I hear that song, reminding me of our girls’ only road trips. Those were good times.

Then this crazy, wild guy entered my life (aka, Steve) and introduced me to Jimmy Buffet. How could I have made it through 21 years without knowing “Margaritaville” and “Cheeseburger in Paradise?” My wedding gift to Steve was a set of overly priced (scalped on the internet) concert tickets to see the chief Parrothead himself. Romantic wedding gift, huh?

Some songs have traveled through life with me. My mom’s favorite song is Bette Middler’s “The Rose.” It was the background to my senior dance recital piece and it played during my wedding ceremony. Other songs just randomly showed up, like the background music in an etoys commercial many years ago. I loved the music and quickly learned that it was Israel Kamakawiwo'Ole’s “Somewhere Over The Rainbow.” I tracked down the CD, gave it to my uncle and my cousin (two very talented musicians) and begged them to perform it on my wedding day.

Not long after that, we were introduced to upbeat Christian music. I suspect some of our friends would laugh at the thought of Steve and I singing Christian music, but sing it we did (and still do). When we were struggling to have a baby, those songs about God’s love and promises always made the tears start streaming down my face. I was broken and hurt and I just prayed that God would see us through this hard time. Now, I rock my sweet little girls and sing “Blessed be the Name” and “Amazing Love.” The tears still come, but this time they are tears of joy and gratitude.

Music has such an incredible way of connecting us to places and people. It can remind us of a high school boyfriend, a wild summer, our college apartment, a road trip to the beach, the first time we met our husband. It can make us laugh at our college antics and cry over the amazing blessings God has given us.

Today, while listening to my favorite country station, Kate said “Mommy, turn it up.” Whether it’s redneck country or beach bum Buffet, rockin’ Christian Music or something slow and sentimental…turn it up, indeed.

Puppy Love

Kate has her first case of puppy love. Can you blame her? As for me, I'm just in love with that sweet, innocent, chubby cheeked little red head. Oh, I love that little girl so much.

Colorful Addiction

I’m addicted to paint samples. Plain and simple, straight forward…it’s time to admit it. I know I’m not the only who suffers from this affliction. I remember seeing paint samples in the purse of my colleague, Barb. You can imagine my excitement to meet a kindred spirit in the office place. I boldly pulled some paint samples out of my coat pocket, acknowledged my addiction, and that was the start of a wonderful friendship.

My addiction takes many forms. I can’t walk by the paint aisle at Lowes without venturing in and picking up a few samples. My shopping cart seems to steer itself toward the cherry apple reds and blushing bride pinks. I love the names of paint samples and hope to someday name my own color (Holly’s Honey Bun yellow?). I remember the night that Steve and I searched through my collection of paint samples looking for a name for the tiny puppy we were picking up the next day. Unfortunately, Sunset Yellow and Starlight Sage just didn’t fit, and we finally settled on Bentley.

A few years ago during a very productive and creative work meeting, Barb and I decided that we should start marketing little cans of paint samples…because we couldn’t be the only people with such an addiction. A few weeks later, she sent me a magazine article advertising Benjamin Moore’s sample paint pots. Alas, someone had stolen our idea. My disappointment was short lived when I realized that I could now buy paint sample pots anywhere. Beach House Brown and Tobacco Road Gold, now available in little paint pots. It was like a dream come true, and buy them I did! I have probably spent $150 on paint sample pots, and they are lined up in my garage. I love every one of them, even the ones that didn’t make the cut.

These are currently sitting in my bathroom, waiting patiently for me to pick one.

My poor husband has suffered at the hands of my paint addiction. We have lived in our home for just over two years and in that time he has painted the family room three times, the morning room twice, the kitchen twice, and the two-story foyer twice. Well…I did help him during rounds two and three (I was pregnant for the first round, so he was on his own). He has suffered through many long conversations, comparing the benefits of Plantation Beige vs. Biltmore Buff. He has lived with rainbow- colored, paint-sampled-covered rooms (for months) while I try to choose the exact color to fit the mood of the space. He nods politely (and only rolls his eyes a little) when I suggest that the freshly painted kitchen might need a little lighter color to cheer things up. It seems I never get it quite right.

This is my master bathroom...and it's been this way for months.

My addiction is not a secret to my friends and family. I email them to find out what color their bathroom is. I share paint sample pots with them. I visit their homes and decide that my bedroom could use a little shot of Java Dust brown.

I entertain my kids with paint samples. There’s nothing like a big basket full of fun colors to keep a toddler busy. I imagine them one day saying, “I’ll trade you my Carolina Shoreline for your Cotton Candy Pink.” Or maybe we could make our own game of Go Fish – “Do you have a Raspberry Delight? Nope…Go Fish.”

Look closely...they are trading paint samples in this picture, taken two months ago.

My friend Sheila once gave me a framed paint sample collage for Christmas. Two years ago, Steve gave me the entire Sherwin Williams paint sample collection as a Christmas present, tucked neatly into my stocking. Now that’s a romantic gift, if you ask me.

And when my friend and fellow paint sample addict, Barb, moved away a few years ago, I sent her on her way with a full supply of paint samples and the prayer that she would never be far from a Sherwin Williams.

Fellow Paint Sample Addicts – I encourage you to come clean. Admit your secret lust of Sun Ripened Peach or Lemon Butter Cream. Tell me how you feel about Frog Jumpin’ Green and Thunder Sky Gray. I know I’m not the only paint sample addict in town, and it’s time to unite!

Small Group Field Trip

Steve and I are a part of a small group at our church...which means that we get to hang out, eat good food, and have interesting discussions with other couples from our church on a regular basis. Our group takes a break from our usual routine in the summer and we plan fun "field trips." This month we planned to go to the Big City Zoo, but it was raining. So we ventured over to different Big City children's museum. The kids had a blast. My camera battery died, so I didn't get a ton of pictures, but the museum was awesome. If you want more information, let me know. I was even impressed that they had activities that were appropriate for Ellie (age 19 months). Her favorite was a drum room (very loud, but so fun). She also liked the ball pit, potatoe picking, and the water room. There was so much to do there. Kate loved the water room - she got to stand inside a big bubble! And she loved climbing the slides and rock walls with daddy. But I think her favorite was the art room (who doesn't love a room filled with glue and glitter...especially one that you don't have to clean!). Here are some pictures:

Fleeting

Today, there are fairies in my house, clip clopping in high-heeled shoes and pitter pattering on barefeet. Sweet, tiny little girls, playing dress up and make believe...giggling and talking about how they can fly. Today is not unusual, as fairies frequent this place quite often. But the minute I looked at this picture, I was reminded that this time is fleeting...that the fairies won't always giggle and clip clop and believe they can fly.

It's bittersweet, isn't it...watching your child grow? I remember crying when Kate was a week old and I noticed that her tiny, skinny newborn fingers had suddenly become plump and dimpled. They grow so very quickly. My babies are now toddlers, trading their bottles and swaddling blankets for fairy wings and princess skirts. They run through the house, dancing, twirling, and leaving fairy dust (or cracker crumbs) in their wake. And some days I pray for peace and quite. I long to read novels and eat dinner without anyone complaining (or mashing potatoes into her hair). The days can be long and my patience can sometimes be limited. But there is joy in this moment...this amazing time when my house is a castle and the fairies run rampant through it. I know it won't last long and that breaks my heart. What a blessing it is to share my life with the fairies...I wish it could last forever.

Water Walking

Many years ago, a friend from work shared a great book with me. The book, written by John Ortberg, is titled If You Want to Walk on Water, You’ve Got to Get Out of the Boat.

The book refers to Peter’s journey out of the boat (literally) and his subsequent walk on the water with Jesus. As a quick summary, the author suggests that we need to pray and listen to God’s calling and then, when the time is right, get out of the boat…because that is where the magic happens.

I think that many of us (myself included) spend too much time in the boat. We live in a society where the ‘boat’ is comfortable (often equipped with good salaries, a corner office, a hefty pension plan, or maybe it has double ovens, wireless internet, jetted tubs). So… who needs to leave the boat? We’re content there. We’re happy there. We don’t even really think about the ‘boat’ much until some big decision presents itself or some difficult circumstance comes our way.

I’ll admit that I’m a boat dweller (life jacket on, firmly secured), most of the time. I’m a worrier and I don’t like change and sometimes I let fear get the best of me. As I look back over my life, though, I believe Ortberg’s assertion. Outside of the boat is where God works best…when we’re afraid and we’re in over our heads.

I’ve been out of the boat a few times in my life. Moving away to college is the first time that comes to mind. I was all gung ho to go to college (in theory), but when the time came I turned into a bumbling, crying, miserable mess. Literally, I think I cried through the entire first semester. I wouldn’t have made it without my parents and their reliable sedan that drove back and forth to my college (two hours away) four days a week (yes…four days a week…they are amazing parents). I was sinking in the water, so to speak, and couldn’t find my bearings…not unlike Peter, who became fearful even when Jesus was right beside him. I guess I shouldn’t feel so bad, huh? But miraculous things happened when I started to loosen my grip on the boat. I met some of my very best friends, Erica and Lori. I grew and became independent. I learned to do laundry. I earned a degree. I plucked my eyebrows for the first time. I met my future husband. The magic happened when I got out of the boat.

There is another very big situation that required me to get out of the boat. Steve and I were trying to have a baby and it just wasn’t happening. Let me just say that struggling with infertility was so heartbreaking and overwhelming for me. We went through a lot during those three years (three miscarriages, three rounds of IUI, three rounds of IVF). I remember the day that I felt like I had enough. I picked up the phone and joined a support group in a Big City near us. I was afraid to drive to the Big City at night. I was afraid to tell my story to strangers. I was embarrassed that I needed help….but I jumped out of the boat and started doggy paddling for help anyway. Sitting there every week with these amazing women, who were struggling with exactly the same thing that I was, helped me tremendously. We were strangers who walked together through hard times. We called after doctor’s appointments. We cried when one of us got bad news, and we celebrated together when, one by one, we each welcomed our first baby into the world. That was magic, and it happened outside of the boat.

Recently, I made a decision to leave a job that I held for ten years. It was the perfect job for me, and I believe that I was very good at it. But I wanted a part-time job so that I could spend more time with my girls. When the part time job came, it had one big hitch. It was a two-year job, only to be continued if I proved to be successful in the position. The boat was a nice, comfortable, permanent job that I enjoyed and the decision was not easy. But I stepped out of the boat. I don’t know how this one is going to work out, as I’m only half-way into it (and I have yet to meet the definition of “success” in my new position). But on my days off, I get to finger paint and read stories and go to the park and hang out with the sweetest little girls around. That seems pretty magical to me.

I have a good friend, Sheila, who made a decision to get out of the boat this summer. She’s making a big leap, trusting God, putting on her water-walking shoes. I think the magic is waiting for her…just around the bend.

What about you? Is it time for you to get out of the boat? It’s not easy, but who doesn’t want to walk on water? I bet Peter’s friends (you know…the ones who stayed in the boat) always regretted that decision.

I have a long way to go in the boat-jumping, water-walking area. I need to trust more. I need to fear less. I need to listen to God, unstrap that life jacket, and step out of the boat more often. That’s where the magic happens, and I don’t want to miss it.

Smurfette

Ellie's first painting experience...enough said?