Friday, June 28, 2013

Sunday, June 23, 2013

When the Universe Throws You a Bone

I've decided when the 'Universe', 'God'...Whomever, decides to throw me a bone, it's always in the form of a family Sunday.  Family Sundays are the cure for tough weeks.  The weariness swept away by the sight of your babies being loved on over and over by the people you love.  It's like a reset button, a good Sunday.  It's like waves washing the beach clean.  Family Sundays are good for the soul.











Saturday, June 22, 2013

Being the Mama in Summer

Meh.  The solitude.  Or more exactly, the solitude in the midst of the din of friends and family.  The thing about raising little tiny people that require one hundred percent of your energy, is that well, they require one hundred percent of your energy.  That energy is spent making sure they don't dive into a body of water un-attended, run into a road, fall down a flight of stairs, fall off a dock.  You get the drift.  That energy is not spent falling into conversation, laughter, boat rides, making memories,  because again, you're keeping tiny people from falling off the dock while other people make their memories, remember?  Raising the angels is amazing and inspiring.  At times, it's also tiring and it's lonely.  And this one, this one, beautiful, tiny tyrant.  Let's start the weekend off with a thousand ways she's tried escaping, evading, running away and running free.  Because she's ONE now people.  That means mama is ready to run wild and free, so god forbid we forget and fail to forgive her the independence she seeks.













Saturday, June 15, 2013

Right. So. Parlee

I woke up this morning to beautiful sunshine and two happy little faces and decided we were going to MAKE something of today.  No hanging around the house, we were going to take advantage of the sunshine, eat fresh strawberries, get ice cream.  Basically create a Norman Rockwell-esque, gorgeous weather, kinda, morning.  You get the idea.  So.  I (ingeniously) decided to take the girls to Parlee  Farm alone.  It's 9AM, the farm should be relatively quiet.  We are going to dance amongst the strawberry fields, in cute outfits, without a tear or a whine in sight.  I'm not really sure where I conjured up this imaginary scene, obviously I had not had a coffee yet.

Fast forward, Parlee.  It's 9AM.  It's PACKED.  There are like nine million super moms pushing high tech strollers complete with infants in ergo-body, baby, whatever wraps EVERYWHERE.  A little doubt crept in, but I pushed forward.  Norman Rockwell, remember?

Then the shit hit the fan.  Maggie vomited her entire breakfast down the front of her overalls, I ran out of quarters to feed the bunnies.  TEN MILLION children were in line to feed the goats, I swear.  And every story needs a climax to let's just get to ours shall we?  I turned to address Maggie for oh, 32 seconds, and Harper casually went over to examine a chicken, and before I could stop her, shoved a hand in there for closer inspection and yup, bitten by a chicken.  Cue angry, 'judgey-ish' scowls from the super moms. sigh.  (YES LADY, I DID almost let that chicken eat my baby).  No harm, no foul.  Ha, get it, foul.  But, I digress, you get the shrill, screaming baby picture.

We left relatively unscathed after the chicken incident, minus one panicked trip from the car, back to the bathroom (we made it, thank the sweet baby jesus).  Pulling out, Mags looks up and says, "Mom?  Did you know Harps DOESN'T LIKE CHICKENS ANYMORE?!?!"  Right baby.  I know.  But Norman Rockwell, remember??














Friday, June 14, 2013

Father's Day Weekend Part One

Thought we'd kick it off by sprucing up the upper deck at the house.  Nothing like a little oasis to allow, err, the Dads in the house a little more space to relax.  And if it's also a place where I can corral small children, collapse in a comfy chair and have a glass of wine, well then, more power to us all.  I did tap into the awesome DIY power of the dynamic duo to assist.  Right.  Harper, well Harper did what Harper does and snacked through the entire process.  And Maggie, well Maggie just did Maggie.

Allow me to illustrate.









Saturday, June 1, 2013

What makes for the good life..

What makes for a good life? What makes you stretch your limbs, inhale to the limits of your lungs and know. just know. you took what you could from this great big world.  Do you ever know for sure you have no need to look back, that you did what you could, what you should, and what you needed to do. How do you assimilate the security your own parents wish for you, your own lust for chasing this one precious life, and the wild, wild freedom of love you hope your own babies can unleash upon the world.  Maybe you don't.  Maybe you give thanks for security, chase a dream and unleash every.single.bit. of love you have to give on the future, theirs and yours.  One future.