Jingle Bells and Whoopie Pies

Let other families go over the river and through the woods...the Temple Family heads to The City for our Christmas fun.
Even the car ride was harmonious as the kids compared iphone apps and took silly pictures of themselves.

No, there's nothing wrong with your eyes...Hill took these pics with some kind of app on her phone, making them look...retro?
Anyway, after enjoying some marvelous Mongolian food we hit the stores, collecting Christmas in the form of clothing, cologne, and cds.

And of course, in the car between stores, we did a few quick-changes.  Because who can resist wearing their new stuff right away?  I introduced Hillary to this fabulousness...

where she was pampered and prettied and persuaded to buy a few face necessities.
But the highlight of the day happened at Starbucks.
Hubby eased up to the drive-thru speaker where he placed our orders, one at a time...a mocha for me...a peppermint latte for himself...and then my Big Burly Guy looked at that speaker and with a straight face said, "...and one Whoopie Pie."  At this point I was the one doing the whooping.  With laughter that is.  I'm sure the poor clerk inside was rolling his eyes.  Hubby accused Hillary of ordering this just so he would have to say the word "whoopie".  She couldn't defend herself because she was laughing so hard.

We ended our evening with Sherlock Holmes...

..and popcorn and sodas and contraband candy smuggled in by purse and by pocket.
And I wanted to exclaim
as they turned down the lights...
"Merry Christmas to all!
It has been a GREAT night!"

Orna-MENTAL

Recently, a helpful friend of mine pointed out to me just how many weeks, days, and hours it had been since my last blog post.  She was wondering when I might feel inspired again.  I explained to her that I try to keep this blog about happy, positive things.  And since our lives have resembled a chapter straight out of A Series of Unfortunate Events since Thanksgiving, I haven't had much good to write about.
It's enough to drive a girl mental.
You know...call the crazy house and reserve a bed kind of "mental".
But then I looked at my bare-except-for-lights Christmas tree and decided to go ORNA-mental instead.  I will put it all on the tree.
Here is a little car that I smashed up with a hammer on the front end to represent the real car Parker wrecked.  (He wasn't hurt at all...Christmas miracle!)
And hanging from a pretty red ribbon is the burned out furnace plates we had to replace last week.
A tiny gas can to remind me that I ran out of gas IN OUR DRIVEWAY the other morning before school.
And that Dust Bunny on a hook?  That tells the story of my broken vacuum cleaner.  Thank goodness I have a generous sister who lives a few miles away and is willing to share her Hoover.
But wait...here's another box of ornaments!
These will remind me of what DIDN'T happen to me this Christmas season.
I place an ugly little elf on the tree.  And although I occasionally still have nightmares in which a purple dinosaur sings through his large nose about his love for me, I thank my lucky stars that my kids aged out before Elf on a Shelf made his appearance!  At least Barney was in charge of his own magic and didn't expect me to move him around in the middle of the night.
And this subpoena over here by the bottom branch?  That reminds me that I DIDN'T have to go to court this week.  (Dear Crazy Lady, I'm your kids TEACHER not your custody mediator!)
And here's one more - a dollar bill - to show how I DIDN'T lose the kids' Christmas.  Like that layer of fat around your heart that your body won't let you use, even if you starve to death, I craftily held on to the Christmas money by hiding it in the deep freeze in a bowl labeled "leftover pea soup".  Neither Hubby nor Insurance Agent managed to find it.  So our annual Family Christmas Shopping Day is safe!
There...finished!
Now I have a full tree... and a full heart!
Merry Christmas :)

I was looking through the fundraiser packet Parker brought home from band, and I had to chuckle.  On one side of the page, he had been asked to write down a list of people he could sell to.  After all the Usual Suspects (grandparents, aunts and uncles, neighbors) he had written "sister".  Never mind that said Sister is a poor college student who raids my change jar in the kitchen to put gas in her car.  But then again...maybe she owes him.
Just last weekend, she roped him into helping her with a photography assignment.  This required him to jump off our second story deck while she stood on the ground and tried to capture "movement" on film.
And it wasn't a one-time shot.
He jumped off the deck, rolled to a stop, walked in the basement door, climbed the stairs, walked through the living room dropping leaves on the carpet, and went out the patio door to do it all over again no less than 10 times.
I told her that any medical bills incurred during this procedure would be her responsibility.
Fortunately, nothing was broken, or even sprained, and the picture did turn out pretty cool...

I guess when you've risked your life for someone, it's not asking too much to expect them to buy a $10 box of chocolates from you.  

Sigh.

Guess I better make sure there's plenty of change in my jar.

Life Stories

"Mom, what time was I born?"
It was Hillary's birthday, and she wanted to know if she'd passed the actual hour and minute of her birth already.  I had to stop and think.  It's been 20 years.  I remember the scent of her baby head.  The weight of her as they lay her on my arm for just a moment before whisking her away from me.  But the "time of birth"?  I wasn't sure.
And then I realized that I had it written down.
I had started a journal for Hillary while she was still in the womb.  I wanted her to know what I was thinking and how I was feeling as I prepared for her.  I wanted her to have her own life story.  And I would record it for her until she was old enough to write it herself.
I dug through the closet and found the pink journal with yellowed pages.  There it was...the whole story of her birth.

I smiled and kept reading.
The language was stilted and unfamiliar as I tried to describe to this new little human...a stranger to me...the events happening around her, the family members who loved her, her favorite toy, her first steps, her quirky habits.  I think I was trying to convince her (and myself) that we were all going to be okay.

The years passed and I continued writing in her journal, and started one for Parker as soon as we knew he was coming.
And then I started this blog and continued recording their lives, including pictures and music.
And I'm SO glad I did.
I look back through these journals and blog entries and I smile at the sweet things I've forgotten.  Stories are important.  And I won't be here forever, but these stories can be.
I read a quote from a book today, "Are you living a life worth telling stories about?"
Our answer is YES!
What's yours?

Free Lunch

"Mom, I need lunch money," Parker said to me as we were getting ready to leave for school.
"I just GAVE you lunch money." I complained.  "Are you spending it all on a la carte?"
"No."
"What are you doing then, buying lunch for the entire lunchroom?"
He rolled his eyes and said, "Of course not.  Just for me and Eli."
Just to be clear, I do not have a child named Eli.  Yet apparently I have been buying him lunch for a while now.  This is not the first time Parker has been generous with my money.  He often gets me to make a fast food run before sporting events, returning with enough food for a whole passel of half-grown kids.  And he swipes my extra packs of gum from the kitchen drawer and passes it out like Santa Clause on a mission.
I guess it could be worse.  He could be stingy and selfish.  Or be the kid who mooches off everyone else.  So I just pretend to be irritated, and I write him out another lunch money check.
You know what they say...there is no free lunch.
Unless you happen to be friends with my kid.

Hilarity

hi·lar·i·tyNoun/həˈle(ə)ritē/

1. Extreme amusement, esp. when expressed by laughter.

2. Boisterous merriment.

There has been much discussion over the years about Hillary's name.  When I was pregnant with her, I wanted to name a girl "Harmony".  But others thought that was the kind of name that would cause people to make fun of a child.  And I was a teenager...easily swayed.  So I chose "Hillary" instead.  Now that it's apparent what kind of person our girl is, everyone agrees that "Harmony" would have been perfect.  She's musical AND she brings peace and unity to whatever group she is a part of.  

But "Hillary" fits just as well.

It means "cheerful".  And she is.  But the name also has the same root as "hilarity".  And if there is anything that brings hilarity to our family, it's our Hillary.

Case in point...

Today we were sitting at the table, finishing our Sunday lunch...an event that is becoming rare around our growing up family, when the conversation turned to tasting.

..."Maybe I'm a Supertaster," I said.

My family just looked around at each other as if to say "Here she goes..."

"Seriously," I protested.  "It's a real thing.  Some people have more taste buds than others and react more strongly to taste.  You can get a little test disc to disolve on your tongue.  Some people don't even taste it, some kind of taste it.  And some taste it so strongly they are gagging and looking for a drink."

This led to wondering where one could score such a neat product...which led to the question of whether one could see this with the naked eye and do their own testing by counting the taste buds on various tongues...which led, of course, to all of us sticking out our tongues.

Hillary erupted in laughter.  "Mom!  Stick out your tongue again."  hahahaha "Why do you make that face?" hahahaha!

"What face?"

"Look at Parker.  When he sticks out his tongue, he looks normal.  But when you do it, your entire face changes!" hahahaha

By this point her mirth was contagious.  Parker was laughing.  Even Hubby was chuckling.  Hillary was squeaking her words by now and wiping tears from her eyes.  Which made me laugh too.  

I don't know anyone else who could turn something so simple into something that engulfs a family in shared belly laughter.  

This kind of stuff happens all the time when Hillary is around.  She laughs easily and with no holds barred.  And thank goodness...since the rest of us tend to be more reserved and serious.  I think God knew this little family would need regular bursts of Harmony AND Hilarity.  

Cool Blue

Parker was fixing himself an after-school snack.
As he waited for the water to boil for his three hot dogs, he commented on how "cool" the water looked.  I think his exact words were "That is the COOLEST boiling water EVER!"
I just kept folding laundry...unimpressed because he uses that sentence a lot.  Substitute the words "boiling water" with "car" "hat" "shoe" "spider" "scar"...you get the idea.
But he didn't stop there.
"I wonder what would happen if I put food coloring in there?" he mused, more to himself than to me.
To which I replied, "Do it and find out.  It won't hurt your food."
He broke into a broad grin and before you could say "experiment" he had my stash of food coloring out on the counter.  After a short debate with himself he chose blue and....voila!

I have to admit it WAS pretty cool.

The water was blue.  The hot dogs were not.  Photo not available as I couldn't find a way to take a picture of a hot dog without it being obscene.

Parker has always been a bit of a scientist.  This experiment reminded me of a similar one he performed 10 years ago when he boiled dandelions to see if the water would turn yellow.  He is always taking things apart, observing minute details, asking questions.  And I love it.  I could be the know-it-all who answers all his questions...but I'm not that kind of mom.  I would much rather watch him test things and find the answer for himself.  Plus, (and I'm loathe to admit this) I really DON'T know it all. So if he's willing to do the work, I'm willing to give him the time and tools.  

Who knows...he may grow up to be the COOLEST scientist EVER! 

Lost and Found

The specter of loss has been hovering in the air for the last few weeks.
The anniversary of a local teenage girl killed in a bus accident last year.
The death of a dear friend which left his wife (also my dear friend and Soul Sister) trying to comprehend the reality that in the morning her husband was there, and in the afternoon he was not.
And of course, all the remembering of September 11...the images, the sounds, the feelings all rushing back as though they never abated.
On a quiet Sunday evening, all this loss makes me pensive.
But it makes me do other things too.
It makes me aware of what I have.  It makes me take time for "I love you" even when I'm running late.  It makes me appreciate Hillary's art and music.  It makes me text Parker from the front seat to the back on the way home from family reunion to say "I'm so glad you were with us this weekend."  It makes me realize what a gift it is to have both children along on a grocery shopping trip...laughing at their mother and throwing Zebra cakes and cheesy hot dogs in the cart..creating more chaos than they ever did as toddlers.
It makes me more patient with my husband when he wants to talk in the morning.  And when we are at a social gathering and he catches me looking at him across the room and he gives me a little wink, it makes me say in my heart "Thank you God for a good man who loves me.  Thank you that I had this day...this wink."
And when Parker returns home at night after "driving around" with his newly licensed friend and comes in my room to let me see that he is all in one piece, it makes me breathe in his scent of four-wheeler and firework and memorize the feel of his hug and the sound of his voice.
The realization that these things could be lost makes them infinitely more valuable.
If I look closely, there are plenty of blessings to be found.

In Tune

A chill in the air...a pep assembly...a boy in uniform...

It all adds up to one thing...

Marching Band season!!

With a little football sprinkled between songs, of course ;)

I spent my Friday night cheering for my favorite trumpet player.

I sat dangerously close to the roped-off "band only" section of the bleachers...like any good groupie. And if you think that embarrasses my boy you'd be wrong.

He's part ham.

From his father's side, of course!

They played the National Anthem, and then short bursts of song during every timeout and touchdown.  With a few minutes left in the first quarter, Parker leaned over to me and said, "Check the weather on your phone.  I want to know if it's gonna rain." I assured him it would be fine, but he continued, "No, I WANT it to rain...preferably before halftime!"

I guess he wasn't too confident in their halftime show.

The much loved band director Parker has had since junior high left at the end of last year and the new girl is ambitious.  

But it didn't rain.

And they sounded great!

Hillary had to work, so I sent her play-by-play texts on how it was going.  And I sat by the girl who Drum Majored with Hillary during her senior year and we commiserated Hillary's absence.  

All in all it was a great first night on the Field.

And then halftime is over...which means I get to go home!

Parker hugged me goodbye, took my last two dollars, and went to hang with the other SuperCool Band Geeks.  Hubby kissed me bye and headed off to work the "chain gang".  And as I drove home, it started to rain.  I laughed out loud and texted Parker.  He got his rain, just a little late.

Now as I sit with my popcorn and think about the four of us in different places, but still connected, I smile.  It's good to be in tune.

Overtime

I am not a morning person.  And that's understating it.
But now that I am working in the same district where we live, I get an extra 15 min of sleep...and a chauffeur.  Parker, unlike his father, understands my need for silence in the morning and drives without any cheery chat or country music.  When we arrive, he carries in my ubiquitous school bag, gives me a quick hug, and he's off down the hall toward the high school.
But by 3:00 when he comes back down that same hallway, he's a different boy.  There's a pep in his step and he feels like TALKING.  Details of his day come flying at me in no logical order as he messes with my SmartBoard and rattles the "helper" sticks in their bucket and rolls around in my chair before adjusting the height up and down a bunch of times. So I give him jobs to do.  He grades papers, hangs up student work in the halls, cleans the whiteboard, and straightens desks.  And I listen with half my brain as I try to make sure things are prepared for the next day so I can get the heck outta there.
Yesterday, he didn't show up.  I vaguely wondered where he was, but figured he had decided to pester his dad for a change.  Then I got a text informing me he was hanging out in another teacher's classroom with her one-year-younger daughter. I smiled and texted him back that I was ready to GO and to meet me in the car in no more than 5 minutes.
This morning on the way to school, I reminded him that we had to pack and be ready to leave town when Dad got home from basketball try-outs, so I would be ready to leave school early and he better get down to my room right away.  His face fell a bit.
"Is there something you need to do after school?" I asked.
He shrugged.  "Me and Cute Girl (name has been changed to protect the innocent) were gonna hang out in your room after school."
I sighed.
And that's how I ended up staying 15 min later than I wanted to at work today.  My plans were all done, my copies all made.  I was ready to leave...but I shuffled papers and checked my email one more time so Boy and Girl could play a kiddie game on my SmartBoard, giggling and showing off and being teenagers.
Maybe it's because I launched into parenting before I was done being a kid myself, but I can't NOT remember how it feels to be a teenager.  How exciting it is to be with someone who thinks you're cute.  How you want to just hang out forever doing nothing.
As much as I may hate every minute spent at work, I love every minute spent watching my kid be happy.  Even if it means working overtime.

Heels to Toes

Hillary is always doing crazy stuff for her college art classes...hanging mirrors from the ceiling...popping paint-filled balloons with darts...forcing me to frolic through a cotton field while she takes film shots of "movement". But this week she came home with an assignment that had her head over heels.

She was supposed to make a shoe out of paper. 

It had to "represent" her personality.

She couldn't use any tape, glue, or other adhesive.

She had to be able to WALK ACROSS THE ROOM in them.

It sounded impossible to me, but Hillary was undaunted.  She took to the challenge like a true Disney heroine, optimistically declaring that she would make a high heel shoe which would impress her teacher and be the envy of all the other lazy students making moccasins by wrapping brown paper bag around their feet.  I'm pretty sure there were bluebirds flying around with ribbon in their beaks and mice marching behind her armed with needles and thread.

She set about cutting her Cosmo into strips and rolling coils of paper into a sturdy sole.

She spent hours over the next several days, curling and coiling, planning and pleating, trying and tweaking, only to find it wasn't working and start all over again.

Her spirits flagged, but only a bit.

Like any good American, she believed with enough determination and hard work, she could spin straw into gold...or at least bend this paper to her will.

 But the due date loomed and she still had nothing but a shabby sole.

I've gotta tell ya, by this point I would have been cheating.  A little glue...a staple here and there...or maybe I would have used envelopes and claimed it wasn't MY fault if they already had glue on them and they accidentally got wet while I was cobbling and helped my shoe stick together.

But, ever obedient, Hillary hobbled on, determined to finish the assignment.  

Eventually she did prevail and made it to class with these...

I don't think Jimmy Choo is calling anytime soon.

Later, Hillary was telling her dad and me about the other student's shoes.  No one else had even attempted anything other than a flat piece of paper held on to their feet by a couple of stringy strips.  They explained it by saying things like, "I made a sandal.  It's open because I'm such an open person."

These are the kind of people who go into politics.

"And the lesson learned today is...?" I prompted.  To which Hillary replied, "Don't be an overachiever?"

"Exactly!  Sometimes you just do what it takes to get by and BS the rest until it works!" 

She laughed.  Which was kind of the point.
While I am proud of her ambition, I also know that she (like her mother) has a tendency to set impossible goals for herself, hoping to impress her teachers/friends/the world.
We both know how to make things way harder than they have to be. Sometimes pouring all your energy into the wrong thing makes your high-heel dreams turn out to be more like a ratty house slipper.
Lesson learned...
Heels or no, this college thing is keeping us both on our toes!

Good Talk

When your kids are little, it's easy to check off the developmental milestones.
Crawling...check.
First steps...check.
Potty training...check.
First lost tooth...check.
But as they get older, the changes are more subtle.  And more embarrassing to talk about.  It would be easy to just let it go and pray that the kid who still occasionally calls me "mommy" will magically avoid the complicated desires of young adulthood and keep his innocence even as his body morphs into Man.  But "easy" very rarely coincides with "parenting".
And so I found myself opening a conversation with Parker as he was standing in the kitchen waiting on his pizza to finish baking.
"I'd like to talk to you about some stuff.  And it's probably going to be embarrassing, but its important."
A light flush of pink began to creep up his neck, but he said ok.
I kept my eyes on my popcorn so as not to be intimidating, and asked him about his thoughts on facing certain temptations, and if he had a plan on how he might handle them.
To his credit, he took a deep breath...and answered me.
His blush went away and my eyes found their way back to his face and we had a nice conversation about the things he believes about himself and others...goals in life...hopes and dreams...and the very practical steps it would take to help him live out his beliefs and reach his goals.  The oven timer went off, but the conversation didn't end.  And over pizza we chatted about everything from sex to alcohol to peer pressure to relationships. The boy who answers texts with one-letter responses had a lot of surprisingly grown-up things to say.
When all that was left was pizza crumbs and a few popcorn kernels, Parker stood up and stretched.  But before he sauntered off to watch tv, he gave me a quick hug and said, "Good talk, Mom."
And it was.
This isn't the first time we've talked about things like sex and drugs.  And it won't be the last.  And that's the point...I want my children to be able to talk to me about whatever is happening in their lives, without giving any particular topic so much tight-lipped weight that it can't be lifted into words, silently crushing us before we acknowledge it.
So I'll listen.  And occasionally I'll bring it up.  And every talk may not be easy.
But any talk is Good.

Picture This

No better friend.  No greater enemy.
That's the only way to describe the relationship between my children.
Publicly they get along fine.  They know how to play the role of Good Children.
Sometimes they even fool me.

They go on Happy Hour runs to Sonic together.  They share new music with each other.  They laugh together...mostly while making fun of their dad's clothes or my attempts at Pilates in the living room.
But sprinkled generously between bouts of goodwill are sparks of annoyance that occasionally produce wildfires that require me to do some stomping out.
They fight over who sits where in the car...in the living room...even in church.
They blame each other for eating all the cookies.  (Even though in reality, it was probably their dad)
They almost come to blows over who is going to do really hard chores around the house (like turn the light off in the kitchen).
So when I catch them in a moment like this... I have to document it.

Photography is one area where they ALWAYS get along.  Hillary loves taking pictures and Parker just happens to love looking cool.  She tells him what to do...and he does it.  She gets to practice doing something she loves...and he gets tons of cool facebook profile pics.  They spent lots of time doing this when we were in Memphis last weekend.

And when we were walking back to the car, I turned around to catch this moment...

It didn't last long...(I didn't get a picture of them glaring and whisper-fighting over who had to sit in the back seat when we got back to the car)...but it was real and spontaneous and lovely.  And I choose to believe that as they get older, the friendly moments will outweigh the fights.
But until then...I think I'll stand between them!

Mucho Gusto

When it's been too long since I've had my kids' attention all to myself, I call them in from the various rooms where they are watching separate tv shows and bribe them with food.

Tonight, it was Mexican.

We got all our favorite things. 

We didn't even need to see a menu.

We laughed a lot.

Everything was perfect.

They didn't even seem to care that I was wearing a Halloween t-shirt in July like a totally middle-aged mother.

And the waitress brought me Coke, even though the menu said they only had Pepsi.

We only had an hour.

But it was so worth it.

My kids bring me mucho gusto (much pleasure)!

Queen of Hearts

Hillary's reign is over.  After a year of parades and appearances, it came down to one final week.  She flitted through a flurry of activities with this year's contestants... emcee'd the children's beauty contest...

 which included doing the hokey pokey on stage in high heels...

and waved goodbye to her subjects in the parade as she threw candy to the kids.

She hosted the talent portion of this year's contest, looking beautiful and sounding professional as she introduced each new contestant and made encouraging remarks as they left the stage.  Then she gave the Finale a boost by belting Babs' "Don't Rain on My Parade".  

 I can't tell you how many people came up to me and made comments about how "wonderful" and "talented" she is and how she's "the best they've seen".  And I agree.  She was a Queen who made her Subjects proud.  But as a member of her inner court, I can tell you that she has more than outer beauty.    

The crowd watched as Hillary made her glamorous Final Walk and then crowned the new Queen.

But no one else saw what happened backstage afterward...

My thoughtful girl had purchased a sturdy but pretty box for the new Queen's crown and sash and had placed a letter inside giving her tips to make her duties easier and a list of things to expect.  She also included her phone number and offered her help anytime the new Queen needed something.  No one had done anything like this for us and we had stumbled our way through the State Fair finding things out as we went. It was sweet and thoughtful and so like my Hillary.

And later, when it was just her and I, Hillary said, "I'm so glad she won.  She's not the type who would do anything to embarrass the Fair Committee like being at a party with underage drinking and stuff."  I hadn't even considered that.  To me, this was just a Beauty Pageant...a way for girls to dress up and have fun.  But Hillary had taken it seriously, with a maturity that made me proud.  She consciously served her community all year, attending events and representing her county with grace and dignity.  She recognized that she was a role model.  And she used her power for good.

But I am not surprised.  Because Hillary has lived her life like this for a long time now.  She has known from early on she was a child of the King and she acts accordingly.  And others notice.

Just yesterday at church, a man sitting in front of me turned around to say, "I just want to tell you what a good job you've done with your kids.  Especially your daughter.  She seems like she's got her head on straight."  I just smiled and told him God had blessed us and it had nothing to do with me.  

But I wanted to say it has nothing to do with her head and everything to do with her heart.

Her reign may be over, but she remains the Queen of our heart.

Foreign

I have foreign toothpaste in my bathroom.

No, I didn't order it from the internet.  It was carried here in the suitcase of Hillary's best Swiss friend who is staying with us for a few weeks.  Swiss Miss is sweet and funny and beautiful.  And she is amazed at how many fat people ride around in motorized wheelchairs in America.
Hillary took her on a road trip to Chicago last week.  And despite the fears of some "mother hens" in the family, the girls made it without being mugged or murdered.  I was proud of the way Hillary took initiative and tried to plan ahead.  And of the way she went for it even as little fears nibbled at her toes.  (And I am thankful to Tony and Peter for hosting the girls and for all their advice!)

I share my heart and my home with my children.  And in return, they broaden my world.  I came home from bible study the other night to find my driveway full of unfamiliar cars.  And my basement full of friends.  Hillary and Swiss Miss were there along with a boy who had a pierced lip and a shy smile.  Parker and his friend, Hunter were downloading music from itunes, but stopped long enough to greet me with an exuberant hug that left my toes dangling inches from the floor for a few seconds.  There was music and laughter and German accented talking.  There was life in my family room.

I love that these two amazing people totally mess with my world.  I love that they live life with open arms.  I love that I find strange toothpaste in my bathroom, strange cars in my driveway, and strange music in my playlist.  This is my life and I love it.
Anything else would just seem...foreign.

Oh Baby!

It was another weekend of travel.  But this time it was my turn for Family Fellowship. My brother and his wife are having a baby!  The first one in the family since MY baby was born 15 years ago.

My brother and my "baby"

So we all descended on Mom and Dad's house and partied like pros.

There was much laughing and eating and hugging.  Doors were fanned...mosquitos were swatted...dogs were petted.  And games were played.  Parker and I were a team, and between his head full of "useless knowledge" and my ability to spell words correctly and backwards, we pretty much dominated at Cranium.

As the weekend came to an end, my mom commented on how she enjoyed watching me and my siblings get along and have fun together.  And I know just what she means.  There is just something about watching the ones you love, love each other that fills you up and puts a smile on your face.  And since the four of us live states away from each other, we don't take our time together for granted.  Petty annoyances are swatted to the side like pesky mosquitoes and we focus on the happiness of a few precious and rare hours together.

It's good to know that some things change...and some things never do.

As Parker drove me home (all 4 hours) he talked about the weekend and how much fun he had.  And seeing it through his eyes, I enjoyed it all over again.

Happy 4th of July!

We spent the holiday weekend with family.
Much family.

Between a wedding and a family reunion we managed to see both sides of Hubby's extended family.  We balanced mingling with huge clusters of newly met family members in color-coded t-shirts with small intimate gatherings in grandma's apartment living room.  And sprinkled in and all around were the trappings of summer and celebration.

(I'm lovin Great-Aunt Joanne's sparkly purple polish!)


Hillary had to stay home and work (I think I could copy and paste this sentence into every blog I write lately), but Parker got to sit and listen to all the shared stories about the people he loves in a past he can only imagine.  He told me this is one of his favorite things to do.  And I have to admit...it's mine too.  Our stories are the strings that tie us together into a Family.  And connect the past...

to the future.




Of course we topped it all off with some fireworks!

 

Happy 4th of July!