LOST A SOCK

2011 in the rearview

Initially I thought to comment, Well that went fast, when I realized it was time to recap the year that just started five minutes ago.  But then as the past year came into better focus, I knew that the quickness of its passage was less about its days and moments, and more about the fact that the years--they are really moving.  I love growing, I love getting older, I love my grey hairs and tiny little wrinkles left from smiling, I love change.  Bring it, 2012.

But first, for the short and sweet in the record book, allow me to recap 2011.

We began the year as we always do, on a ladder with paint brush in hand.  (Myself, that is. Not my kids.)  My kids were elbow deep in homeschool, and in a bin of dry rice and beans at the time, and we were eight months into our wait for our baby to be referred to us, from Africa.

This was a path that I somehow knew I would walk, at least in the years after I became a mom, though I never could have predicted our story thus far to present as it does in this moment.  While waiting for our referral, we began learning of so much corruption surrounding the situation in that particular country, and eventually we made what felt like the only ethical choice to make, given the circumstances, and we brought our paperwork back home.  I know with certainty that even now, had we stayed the course in spite of our concerns, we still would not have had our baby home today, and if we felt waist-deep in a terrible situation at the beginning of the year, without going into detail, we would have been up to our eyeballs by now.  Even our own agency, who we once had so much faith in, has not emerged with clean hands, and it leaves me feeling just sick for the babies and children who are involuntarily growing up in the center of this cold and dirty hurricane.  In this way the world appears uglier than ever to me, having joined the scene ready to help a child or children as we could, and then having witnessed such an unfolding.  It left me feeling hopeless for the kids at the center, and so very sorry for the well-intentioned adoptive and birth families caught in the swirling periphery. 

I am sorry to say that I came away from this once-exciting time to experience a grief I hadn't known before- a miscarriage of sorts, only for which there are no pre-determined parameters for how one should expect to feel after spending the better part of two years preparing for and dreaming about this very real baby that would join our family, only to walk away with empty arms.  Adoption is not just a thing that people decide to get into, but something we get into with our whole hearts and with our kids and families and friends and finances.  We create space in our homes and excitedly count down until this little person who already feels like one of us, comes along to finally be one of us.  The process, then, of giving away the toys I had saved, the blankets and clothing I had collected and telling each and every person of our turn of events left me mournful and exhausted.  The winter went long, and it felt dark and sometimes lonely.

I journaled a lot through that time, and searched to find the silver lining day after day, because it was the best of my options.  And I opened myself up to the possibility that I could somehow come out of this experience with greater breadth, and build something from all the little pieces.

By the grace of God, I met a friend of a friend very soon after that, who somehow got me instantly, right where I was, and sat with me in the space where I chose to work through our adoption into its roots.  My sadness for everything that had ever failed was palpable, then.  I saw all of that emotion and heartache, some of which I had carried with me since I was my own little kid, and I picked it apart and allowed it to become something new when it was ready.  I had grown into a better mother for all I had learned, and a better self for what I now understood.  The process, the preparation, the loss and the disaster we witnessed was what we simply had to endure for all that could come out of it and still is yet to come.  

And just like that, Spring arrived.

We were okay. We were all okay.  We were built for these sorts of deep life lessons-- a whole Master's Degree, really, on what fear and disappointment and love are all about.  How thankful I am to have come through all of this with a heart open to possibility, though it was no picnic at the time.

It was Mother's Day before I knew it and I was the mom of three amazing little kids, and we spent the morning on a hike, and laying in green grass, absorbing the sunshine.  I will never forget that Sunday morning, because I think it was one of the most perfect, ever, in my book.  I hired our wonderful babysitter for a few hours a week, beginning last Spring, to give me the occasional break that I didn't know I could (should!) grant myself and my kids. I became more familiar with poetry and bounced along on positive, super-fun music.  We had kitchen dance parties in the afternoon and at night, just the kids and I, or the kids and I and Kevin and Sant and Leslie-- all through the house with the music blasting.   

I threw caution to the wind and painted on all sorts of canvases, and put hardwood floors in our house and painted a few walls more.

We saw art.  We made art.

We plastered art all over our walls, and we didn't apologize for the mess.

We hiked,

and we drove,

and we celebrated.  

I felt that I should meet my inner perfectionist, somewhere in all that, and shake her up a little bit.  The world was not perfect, and I was not perfect.  The world was ugly and messy and dissapointing, and I needed to stare into all of that to understand that it was somehow part of something beautiful.  And so with each opportunity, to this very moment, I am asking myself what I can do with the beautiful messiness, and who will still love and accept me should they walk right into it with me.

And the answer, of course, is this little, solid group of friends and family whom I have intentionally placed around myself, like a group of fluffy pillows to pad my falls.  I am blessed.  Not lucky, as I tossed out there in my last post.  I believe, actually, in neither luck, nor coincidence, nor accidents.  I am here and happy and more whole than ever because I chose to experience awe and gratitude, again and again, for all of the blessings that come my way.  I am following my intuition as best I can, always chasing truth and what is real, and facing the hard work as it shows up, so that I can continue growing into the best version of myself-- all of those failings, and all of that messiness included.  There is more work to be done.

I added to my inky collection last summer, the word that hums through the undertones of my life, and five little birds in flight, for the five of us- Kevin and the kids and I, making this journey together.

We traveled a good deal this year, down to Indianapolis to spend some days with these little buddies of ours while their Mama delivered their new baby, 

and with these buddies of ours (also speaking of new, third babies) to Wisconsin Dells for a fun vacation.

We did the Smoky Mountains in Tennessee this year with family, 

in a mountainside cabin with a view and a settling energy I will never forget,

and we found ourselves floating down a river in bright yellow innertubes.

Kevin and I took a trip to Vegas for our eleventh wedding anniversary, 

and we experienced Utah and Arizona, where we hiked through quiet and still, rocky caverns.

I collected twenty-three pages of favorite quotes this year,

and finally figured out a layout and an atmosphere that is comfortable to me, here.

We saw the Dalai Lama speak in person over the summer, and I attended a fantastic monthly Buddhist meditation class.  Each Kevin and I did something we said we would never do again, and spent the last six months settling into churches we both love, each of us supporting the other with where we need to be.  We've gotten involved with a monthly soup kitchen, and we've met more new friends who have turned out to be icing on the cake.

We've created bonds with our homeschool buddies and taken lots of day-trips.  I bought an iPhone, I conquered every version of Angry Birds, I took the kids to see lots of plays and musicals this year.   

Kevin and I saw U2, which was hands-down, the best concert ever (even if I failed to bring my real camera).

I read this year.  I read and read and read and read, 

and it was one journey inward (and backwards and forwards) after the next.

We said good-bye to friends, both very real friends and quasi-real,

and we watched quietly the sun set,

the silkworm dangle,

and the Autumn breeze blow.

We hosted the holidays again,

and counted ourselves so blessed for full tables and full bellies.

We enjoyed the glow, 

remain present,

and bring nothing but hope, bravery, possibility and love to the year ahead.

Semi-annual Somewhat-messed up Completely-accurate and terrible Christmas poem, from our family to yours

I really want to blog again but don’t know where to start.

We’ve hung the garland, trimmed the tree and made some Santa art.

I’m lying really, it was glitter trees and windows with bright lights,

But if I don’t say something here, it could be six more nights.

That’s Christmas-- no. Oh nevermind.  That day is drawing near.

Our car’s broke down, the gifts half wrapped, kick Santa in his… ear.

Why so violent?  Why so mean?  What did that round man do?

Took credit for all good presents now, and ate our cookies, too.

Fold laundry, Donder, change bed sheets Rudolph, is what that man should say,

For we have three young children here who busy me each day.

I like them so, I buy them gifts and take them lots of places.

We pick up donuts, sing Christmas carols and smile our happy faces.

Then we get home, it’s late and then the bath time is a must,

But if you know about little boys, they’re sure that they might rust.

Resist the bath, resist the bed, leave legos on the floor.

Why doesn’t Santa ever step on them, and expletive out the door!?

It’s late and it’s dark and I did not see that sharp remaining block,

I stepped on it, collapsed and cursed, I’m bleeding through my sock.

Oh shit, I say, I’ve got things to do that involve a lot of walking,

My foot is throbbing, I’m overtired and sick of all this talking. 

On Dasher, On Dancer, now Prancer in line behind our sweet little Comet,

Let’s stay away from the public this week so we don’t get the flu and vomit.

It’s going around, I’ve heard moms say, and doesn’t sound like fun,

Kids soil each surface and miss the pot and make me want to run.

Run, I said, not Runs, that’s different, though it accompanies too.

I have three kids so no surprise my poem just turned to poo.

Oh that was gross, I’m sorry friends, do say that you’ll forgive.

Let’s talk about happy things again, like Christmas dinner and gin.

Gin doesn’t rhyme and neither does vodka but it might be what I’m drinking,

If I don’t score more time this week, it’s the only way, I’m thinking.

Nativity play and Christmas break from homeschool are just fine,

Pajama day and craft away and memories that shine.

I hope they know when it’s all done I created this for them,

So when they grow up they’ll do the same and gift me a big gem.

A ruby maybe, or sapphire or diamond or giant loaf of bread.

What? I ask. All one in the same! Do not a sad tear shed!

I’m tired now, for real now, and I have to end this, friends.

Merry Christmas to you, I’ll be back real soon to show you how it ends.

I love you, good night, no I can’t stop, my gosh I’m just like the kids,

I need more water, I have to pee, my bed is full of squids.

Goodnight, goodnight, goodnight, goodnight, I’ll see you all tomorrow.

Or Thursday or Friday or Saturday, in happiness and sorrow.

Merry Christmas to all, I heard him say, the bulky man in fur,

Bring happiness and peace, dear Santa, of these I dream for sure.

Waking up in Vegas

Earlier this month last month I started to get on a blogging kick and even considered NaBloPoMo, a commitment to write every day of November.  Alas, we took a trip and returned home seven days ago already.  We arrived home from Vegas at 3am Halloween morning, grabbing just a few hours of sleep before it was time to carve pumpkins and get everyone ready for trick or treating.  Since then, I painted my family room, got the kids caught up on school and a couple fun field trips, went on a major post-Halloween sugar binge, conquered both Angry Birds and a mountain of laundry, read a fantastic book and ordered my East Africa travel guide, to help myself think.

So yes, we took our trip.

Vegas was pretty neat to see.  

We were celebrating our wedding anniversary, so my wonderful husband took it upon himself to have special surprises built into the trip, like a massage down at the spa on our first morning, chocolate strawberries and champagne, and a marvelous anniversary dinner.

A dinner that included three varieties of mashed potatoes in pretty little cups, steak, lobster and creamed spinach.  Fun.     

(Also, writing the word Fun just after the words Creamed Spinach totally made me realize I am rocking my thirties.  Or my eighties.  Whatever.)

Vegas is one of Kevin's favorite places.  He loves the history of downtown and the architectural influences of each of the hotels on the Strip.  He knows what time certain fountains go off and who houses this art or that, and where to play good Blackjack and where to play cheap Blackjack, and where Dean Martin ate cheeseburgers.  And so while normally I am the trip planner of our team, this one was all his.

We walked and walked and walked.  I can tell you that I don't think we missed a single stop because that man was determined to show me everything.  

My favorite was this hotel, The Palazzo, and just as I was oohing and ahhing over how they pulled off Fall leaves in the middle of a desert, he told me that this was where we had our original reservation, just before he changed us to Mandalay Bay.  Oh well. 

Mandalay Bay was a great pick for my first visit because we were near the end of the Strip, with a view of the whole thing from way up on the 38th floor.  We stayed at THEhotel, which is kind of a big deal to them. THE word THE.  It's in capital letters on their pens, their towels, their shampoo.  On every paper, every sign on every wall.

I walked around the whole first morning proclaiming that I was getting out of THEbed and drinking THEdietcoke from THEoverpricedminibar and getting in THEshower.  Would he please get THEcar from THEvalet?

Am not kidding.  THEbig deal.  THEtp.

Am so glad I did not have THEexperience where I forgot to remove THEsticker.

We rented a fun car on our trip, which Kevin originally thought completely unnecessary, until I reassured him that if we were going to be so close to mountains and landscapes, I would probably need to climb on them.  

Which brings us to my favorite part of our adventure.  

Sorry friends, I do not enjoy gambling, or smoking cigars or drinking much, so while the Vegas sites were fun to see, the desert mountains were where my heart was.  (My vices, just for the record, include mashed potatoes, heavy caffeine and now banana splits the size of my forearm from Caesars Palace, all of which we indulged in while in the city of flashing lights.)

In our quest to see all fifty states together, I was aware that Las Vegas is in the Southeast corner of Nevada, quite close to Arizona and Utah...and we need all three of those.  Originally I had hoped that we could actually make a trip within a trip, out to THEgrandcanyon, but I knew we would not be able to dedicate enough of THEtime to do it THEjustice (heh, sorry!) so we decided to head up through Arizona and into Utah for hiking in those gorgeous red mountains.  

All lava rock, in such enormity- I had never seen anything like it.  See the two tiny cars up ahead in relation to the rock?  Compare.  

Fantastic.

So we made it through Arizona and into St. George, Utah, and I spotted a white church in the distance, which is one of my favorite things to photograph.  This wasn't any white church, though- it was a Mormon Temple!  And we'd never visited one! (Life List #61) There was a wedding spilling onto the perfect green grass of the front lawn, beneath the endless blue sky, and then this pristine, white building.  It sort of reminded me of winter mornings when you get that massive snowfall overnight, and then are lucky enough to wake up to bright blue skies over all of that bright white, untouched snow.  This was that. Church-style.

We moved on to Snow Canyon State Park, then, to hike.  I was so taken with the red rock, experiencing nothing like it near home.  It was so brittle and porous, with randomly scattered piles of deep black basalt rock here and there. Even all of the plants were completely unfamiliar to me, hardy and spikey and just completely different from the Midwest.  I loved it, and this is what I love about travel.  It changes you, and broadens your mind and deepens your understanding of the world.

The rock was somewhat unfriendly to the touch, reminding me a bit of chalk, which is not my favorite texture.  So this hike was for looking.  As we went along we kept finding the most incredible formations, and naming them like kindergartners identifying cloud shapes in the sky.

Owl!  

Elephant!  

This is how people stay married for a hundred years.  We entertain our quirks. And eat creamed spinach on our anniversaries.

This is my favorite shot from the Utah part of our trip- it sums up perfectly what the atmosphere was.  It was quiet.  It was awe-inspiring.  It was enormous, and dry and seventy-five degrees without even the slightest breeze and you got the feeling that things were simply permanent, and unchanging.  It was the kind of silence and stillness that allows you to stand right in the middle and not even have to breathe deeply to clear your mind.  You are just clear and quiet and synced with this stable, untouched section of the planet.  And you realize that it is you that is moving, all of your blood and your systems and your whole existence contained within your physical being, faster than any of this. You are transforming so quickly, and you will be gone and all of this rock and sand and dry desert heat will remain and outlive you.  And it is perfect.

You love my quasi-spiritual nature-hiking rants, don't you?

Late that night we returned to the glitz and the party in the downtown section of Vegas, which is Kevin's favorite.  It was then that my brain registered that it was Halloween weekend and the tourists?  They were costumed for it.  I think it was some of the best people watching I've ever done-- Snoop Dog, Beetlejuice, Kiss, The Pope smoking a big ol' cigar, and even a real wedding where every member of the wedding party, including the bride and groom, were made up like Zombies.  This was all so much fun to observe.

This is where a Zombie and a guy dressed like Tom Cruise from Risky Business take pictures of the Zombie wedding.  Oh Vegas.

I will be back send my husband and his buddies back to see you someday soon.

Life List #97

The fun thing about having a life list is that one day you sit down and ask yourself which very large and ridiculously small experiences you would like to have.  And then without worrying that Pet an Elephant and Donate Ten Thousand Dollars don't seem to make sense beside each other on any list, you smash them together and open yourself up to the possibility of both.  Yippee!  

Furthermore, if you are me, you have things to cross off.  So get busy!

Number 97 was Eat a fancy cupcake in a charming cupcake shop.  (Such expectations I place upon myself, I tell you.)  Now technically we have a cake lady we use.  She was the creator of Sant & Leslie's wedding cake, and also makes the most enormous, delectable cupcakes you can imagine-- banana, pistachio, pink champagne, pumpkin...amazing.  And we are known to order from her.  You know, sometimes.  But what I was going for in number ninety-seven was a cupcake shop-- open for the solitary purpose of selling and enjoying cupcakes.  Cute and lively.

So we'll get to the actual cupcake part, but first, I decided to make a day out of this one...

Last month when the kids and I visited the Chicago Art Institute I walked into this exact hall filled with thousands-year old Buddhas and Shivas and Ganesha sculptures, my whole brain sighed Kevvvvvvinnnnn.  This is exactly the kind of thing that he and I could spend days walking through together, reading each card about each exhibit.  And so then it was meant to be.

And so it was!  We left the kids with Kevin's mom for an entire Sunday and took a date day for ourselves.  My recent acquisition of an Educator Pass to this place isn't a bad gig either, tempting me to return as many times as possible.

I had all the time I needed to examine my favorite staircases, which turned out to be a commentary on religious tolerance, a talk given by Swami Vivekananda on September 11th-- 1893, at the Art Institute.  This text now revisited to encourage everyone, especially in light of September 11, 2001, to reflect on the implications of religious intolerance across the board.

This is Judith, a personal favorite of mine.  And that in the background is Holofernes-- well, his head anyway.  Holofernes and his army showed up somewhere in the sixth century B.C.E. to conquer her peaceful town, and after having their water supply cut off for several days, Judith's people were thirsty and desperate.  So, long story short, she took matters into her own hands-- put on something suggestive & showed up at his tent with a little cheese and wine. Once Holofernes was drunk and passed out in his tent, she used his own sword to behead him.  His army then retreated and Judith's town was again safe.  Go Judith.  

But what I really love about the painting, beyond the story, is the way artist Jan Sanders Van Hemessen (year 1540) painted her body to appear so strong and almost masculine from far away, but when you approach the painting and look into her eyes and at her face you realize how soft and feminine, and very innocent she is.  Beautiful.

And then there was this, in Post-1950 American Art.  I had never seen it before, but if you click the image here it should pop out in a larger window and the words will become easier to see.  The little boy is the artist.

On a lighter note, century-old art museums are filled with perfectly spaced rows of things to photograph, that are always an intense draw to my OCD eye.

I was in love with this very tall, very light room with the winding staircase.  And two boulders.

It's perfect, right?

So from there we took to the busy Chicago streets and stopped at one of my favorite restaurants for dinner.  It is very rare that I get to introduce Kevin to any new-to-us restaurant downtown, because he's worked there for fifteen years and tries all sorts of places.  But on this day, I suggested Flat Top Grill, which is a super fun stir fry bar with every fresh ingredient and sauce imaginable, that you put together and they grill up for you.  Bowls unlimited. Yessssss.

And from there we make our way back around to the cupcake.  

Not just any cupcake shop, but Molly's Cupcakes up on the North Side of the city.  

And the inside of the shop?  Decorated like a 1960's classroom, complete with wooden desk chairs and alphabet characters holding tiny pink cupcakes.  And swings, suspended from the ceiling.  

I had a giant Molly Size cupcake with buttercream frosting and chocolate chips on top...filled with cookie dough.  It was a sugar addict cookie dough lover's dream come true, friends.

(And it actually gave me a bit of a headache when I was finished, having spent seventeen weeks now on my Weight Watchers program.)

But fantastic, and quite buttery and moist.

You know we had to be good parents and bring a variety dozen home.  For the children, of course.  Everybody benefited from Life List #97.

Return to Glory

What day is it?  

October.

(Name that movie.)

Uh, so I have been away for a little while.  I did not plan anything this way, but we were just crazy busy one Monday.  And then Tuesday a field trip, and Wednesday and...you know how it goes.  I believe the possibility exists for us to have it all, just, eh, not all at once.  And this place has been neglected for the sake of favorites such as Sleep! Laundry! Reading! Photographic Study of the Inner Workings of the Colorful Spring Tulips, Sprawling in the Delicious Green Grass and Making Our Merry Way to the Tops of Skyscrapers!

Also, we've been out of town the last three weekends.  

A sampling of our recent weeks, if I may:

These guys have been buddies since they were eleven months and eight months old, respectively.  And now they are about to be third graders.  How is that possible?  We headed up to Wisconsin to help celebrate our friends' First Communion.

Once upon a time, for every male child I gave life to, my friend Cindy had a set of twins.

And then when it came to my pregnancy with Marin, she bailed on me.  Come on.  What's three sets of twins?!

Marin and I then hopped down to Indianapolis to spend time with our pals of the Toddler Variety, where we compared Be-llieeees! with my girlfriend Bree the clear winner with baby number three now at thirty-three weeks gestation.

And most recently we returned home from our very first vacation with buddies! Along with our dear friends we took our collective five (nearing six) children to a water park resort up in Wisconsin Dells where we rode the slides and the waves, played laser tag, mini golf and board games, and generally wreaked noisy havoc on our neighbors up North.

They'll have us back.  They liked our Pottery Painting Skillz.

The Crazy Brave Dads driving The Man Van, loaded up with four boys and all the testosterone and DVDs a vacationing crew could handle.  (Meanwhile the two moms and So-Far-Solo Girl enjoyed endless chat and Zoobles and Adele tunes for our relaxing, peaceful drive.)

Honorable mention:  Vacation Bread.   Girlfriends don't let pregnant girlfriends carb out alone, so it was all the ice cream and tread bread this momentary Weight Watchers deviant could handle.  I had to do it for my friend...and her baby.

(Did I mention that I had many inches of hair cut off a few weeks ago?  I am feeling so free these days!)

In between the busy weekends, we've done our best to enjoy the on-and-off Springtime weather with a couple beach trips,

and hikes, 

and more than any other year I have taken the time this year to soak in the beautiful days and watch the vibrant green leaves grow from bare tree branches.

I have watched the Oak leaves turn colors in the fall a thousand times, but I never spent my Spring days watching them emerge from within the life-filled trees.  This simple shot of the baby Oak leaves is probably one of the most personally gratifying pictures I've ever taken, and if I could have stood there all afternoon to watch them grow in the amazingly fast way that they do, I might have.

Early in the day on Mother's Day this year, we made a special trip to a nearby Arboretum to spend a little time with just our five, and during our visit we came upon rolling hills of soft green grass-- perfect for relaxing in together on a Sunday afternoon.

And, you know.  War cries.

Another day it was our feet on the glass floor, 103 stories above the noisy Chicago streets at the top of the Willis Tower.  I've been telling my kids for nearly a year now that I would take them up on a clear day, and we finally found it.

We found that, and time for a quick, mid-day ice cream break with Kevin, whose office is conveniently located across the street from said tall tower.  

We've spent a little time at the Art Institute,

with the endless, worded flights of stairs that I someday plan to read all of, on a trip of my own.

We've appreciated the art near home,

and experienced a couple of super-fun plays, recently.

And often, we have been found doing exactly what we should do when beautiful days return in May.

Myself included.

Thirteen to Love

1. Climbing trees

2. Long Sunday Drives

3. Being the guy who the butterfly lands on

4. A day shopping home decor with the girls

5. Breaking the big news to the five little buddies...we're going on vacation together!

6. Vanilla Milk

7. Watching the tall, bare, beautiful trees reach for the blue Spring skies

8. Wearing my favorite necklace: From little seeds grow mighty trees

9. Signs Applicable

10.  Thirteen point five years later, he not only runs to the grocery store but he stops to buy me flowers on the way home

11. When I was a little girl I used to pretend these long lines of concrete at our zoo were my little sidewalks.  I used to imagine that I could live at this (my favorite place) and I was just walking through my beautiful neighborhood.  All grown up now, I bring my kids here regularly and watch them run on the concrete.  Full circle is wonderful, especially when it involves favorites.

12. Living close enough to visit.

13. A surprise eighty degree Sunday in April, and having Daddy home to give swing pushes.

Chicky Chicky Babies

So we went from two little chicks being born the first night, to ten more hatching throughout that night and the next day.  All twelve eggs!  I could hardly believe it.

Just when we would get one or two babies dry enough to move from the incubator to the brooding box, another would hatch and we would wait for him to dry.  Above are nine of the twelve, mostly dry and a little confused about the purpose of the food dish:  

Everyone wants to sit in the food dish.

This is exactly like the one motorized riding horse back in the corner of the outlet mall.  Fifty cents a ride, one horse, my three kids pushing each other off the back of the swaying fiberglass animal to ensure their turns.  The chicks, too, push, shove and peck each other, though thankfully they are not begging for more quarters.  (Who carries cash, anyway?)  Then all of the food inevitably ends up on the brooding box floor and they slide around on the porcelain food dish like their personal little ice arena.  

Things you never thought you would know about chicks.  

You're welcome.

Fluffy babies taking the dark printed arrow very seriously and moving into the corner.

What I did remember about hatching chicks was that they are incredible poop machines.  Once they are hatched and eating, we go through a stack of newspapers in no time, changing the layers of the box floor.  We had some of our homeschool friends over one afternoon to play with the newly hatched babies and we actually covered a good portion of my kitchen floor in newspaper, sitting the kids in a circle to admire and play with the chicks.  A pooping good time, they had.

The chicks, not the kids.  

Our dog, seen here on the other side of our glass door, would love to get in on that circle as well.

We are doing the best we can to make sure he and the chicks do not meet, no matter how delicious interesting they might appear.  Above, our night-time Dog Alarm.  So far, so good.

(I somehow feel like the little kid in Swiss Family Robinson with his clanging "Pirate Alarm" up the back of the mountain.  All the chickies yell, Now the coconut bombs!)

KJ is of course in Bird-Lover's Heaven right now with all of these little guys staying with us.  He is pictured here with Hawk, who he swears he can tell from the rest of the chicks, as well as little brothers Falcon, Eagle and Peck.  

Marin loves the chicks as well, and to prove it she has poked her fingers through the saran wrap/tape window approximately seven hundred thousand million times.  

The chicks remain skeptical of her love, as she taunts them with a spatula from the kitchen tool drawer later in the afternoon.

See also above: Chicks sitting in food dish.

Jack couldn't wait to introduce Mario to Mario.

Though we quickly got the idea that Fluffy Chick Mario was less than happy with his Plastic Molded Namesake.  Jealousy and Extreme Mario Rivalries for these two.

Can't we all just get along?

Other chicks were happy to have their tummies tickled,

and to take command of Lego War Vehicles.  

All in all we are having a splendid time with our babies.

Although...

Spread the word: Meet at the toybox at four thirty.  That plastic guy's gotta go.

There be feathers (in your best Pirate-speak)

This is our second year hatching chicks as part of homeschool, and it has been an adventure so far!  We were told that the babies should be hatching Friday into Saturday this year, and so naturally I became pretty nervous on Saturday night when there hadn't been so much as a single peep or crack in an egg. Chicks generally incubate in their eggs for twenty-one days, so going two days late is like being a month overdue in pregnancy talk.  

And if a seventy percent hatch rate is considered good, and incubating babies can die pretty easily if the humidity in the incubator is off or the temperature is not held at a consistent 100.5 degrees, there are all sorts of endings I was growing concerned about by Sunday morning.

(So, eh, disregard everything I've ever told you about the power of postive thinking when it comes to chick hatching with your kids, and panic.)

KJ stood by hoping and waiting for signs of hatching, and eventually I began preparing him for bad news.  They could have gotten too cold during delivery, or be an unusually bad batch of eggs...  He was sad, as were Jack and Marin, but they continued to hope and wait.

I went there and hard boiled some eggs for breakfast on Sunday morning.  Not those eggs, however.

And then finally by lunchtime Sunday we had a few little cracks.  

I was so relieved, you guys.  Finally, craaaacks.  

(Today would not be the day we explore death!  Huzzah!)

Late in the evening last night, then, we watched our first little guy break free from his shell.  It's a very long, slow process to observe, but then so amazing that they roll out of the shell and stand up almost immediately.  And then fall over.  And then stand up.  And then fall over.  Again.  Into the wall.  

It took a lot of maturity for me to not name this post Drunk Chicks, fyi.  But that's exactly how they look at first, and it is hilarious to watch.

This is Mario the Chick, a few minutes after hatching.  His brother Luigi to follow, of course, once Jack's turn came back around in naming rotation.  I should warn you here, that in order to keep the environment in the incubator a perfect temperature and humidity level to sustain the hatching chicks, I can only shoot pictures through the double plastic incubator window.  Late at night in dim light.

A few minutes later chick number two began to emerge.

Welcome to the world, Hawk.  (Guess who was next with The Naming.)  

Hawk, KJ tells me, is short for Red Tailed Hawk, his favorite Bird of Prey.  And apparently there need be a life lesson here on Not Putting Unrealistic Expectations On Your Children Chickens by Naming Them Einstein Quarterback Brain Surgeon Hawk.  That, a lesson for another day.

So after a couple hours of Mario and Hawk drying off, and their baby brother Luigi working at record slow pace to exit his delicate little home, I moved the first two into their brooding box.  (And now I get to shoot pictures through a window made of saran wrap and packing tape, in lower light, deep into the middle of the night.)  

Once in the box Mario looked around, fell over, got back up and then did exactly what I would have done had I just hatched in a drunken stupor and was put on house brooding box arrest: he checked out the food plate.  

It was at least two a.m..  He had spent the entire day and night pecking and hatching and flopping around up until this point, and he was tired.

I know baby.  Let it go.  It's okay.

And he did.  He flopped over and fell asleep in the food plate.  

Don't judge.  

I've been there, too.

Night-night babies.

***

Coming up: Chicks hatch!  Chicks poop!  Chicks dance to Apple Bottom Jeans!

2010 in review. This time with words!

In the eleventh hour I am borrowing this Q & A format from Amanda, for reflecting on the year past.  I have read so many of these question and answer posts this week, and have always wanted to try one out.

1. What did you do that you have never done before?  Assembled a dossier to adopt a child from the other side of the planet.  Sold a house.  Owned my writing and my photography, by slapping my name across the top of my blog.  It only took me five years.  Also, I embraced the unknown.

2. Did you keep your 2010 New Year's Resolutions?  Is weight loss always going to show up on them?  Other than that, mostly.  Yes.  Will you make more?  Does the pope wear a funny hat?

3. Did anyone near you give birth?  Kevin's brother's wife had their first baby just a couple days ago.

4. Did anyone close to you die?  Papa Tipping, Granny Ray and my old friend Tina, who I was once very close to.  

5. What countries did you visit?  No countries, but we've made it up to thirty-seven states now!

6. What would you like to have in 2011 that you didn't have in 2010?  Feet that move quicker than my mouth.  Better endurance.

7. What dates in 2010 will remain in your memory?  September 24th, as Sant & Leslie's beautiful wedding.

8. What was your biggest achievement in 2010?  I cannot figure out any other way to convey this, without sounding like a total lame-ass, but my biggest achievement in 2010 was without a doubt the peace I've found through so much meditation.

9. What was your biggest failure?  My inability to better structure our days at home, for the sake of the kids and I and school.  I am far too lax in sticking to any sort of regimented schedule, even though I know we would all be better for it.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?  Ha!  I broke my foot just as we started painting the old house!  I still can't believe that.

11. What was the best thing you bought?  My laptop.  Welcome to the millenium, right?

12. Who's behavior merited celebration?  Elizabeth Edwards, who lived and died a beacon of strength and repose.

13. Who's behavior made you appalled?  Those who rejected us after we shared the news of our adoption.  Not for the sake of us, but for the sake of orphaned children in need of love and family, all over the world.

14. Where did most of your money go?  Dare I say that we dumped more money into that house than we did into our notoriously expensive international adoption?  Yes, the house.  Then the new baby.  

15. What did you get really, really excited about?  Our baby.  Girls' weekend in Michigan.  Seeing our East Coast trip become a reality.  Seeing the East Coast.  Closing on the old house.  Making a new friend.  The Christmas donation that was made in our name to the school and orphanage in Ethiopia, run by our adoption agency.

16. What song will always remind you of 2010?  Awake My Soul by Mumford and Sons

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:

Happier or Sadder?  Happier.

Thinner or Larger?  Larger, baby.

Richer or Poorer?  Richer, on so many levels.

18. What do you wish you had done more of?  Exercise.  Sleep.  Play board games with my kids.

19. What do you wish you had done less of?  Speaking to fill space.

20. How did you spend Christmas?  Surrounded by family, at our house.  Fantastic.

21. Did you fall in love in 2010?  Wow.  Yes I did.

22. What was your favorite TV program?  Listing Oprah as my favorite tv show is like listing "swimming" as a hobby for fish.  So let's go one beyond and say Modern Family.  Love it!

23.  Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate last year?  I do not hate a single soul.  I am so blessed for that.

24. What was the best book you read?  There is No Me Without You by Melissa Fay Greene

25. What was your best musical discovery?  Mumford and Sons.  I have a bit of an obsession.  Also, Ryan Adams.

26. What did you want and get?  Our completed dossier to Ethiopia.  When I re-read my goals for 2010, written at this time last year, I was at that time on pins and needles about our adoption.  We didn't have an agency, a homestudy, a support group, enough money...  I wasn't sure how fast we would take it or if we could even dive in one hundred percent.  And here we are awaiting our referral, one hundred fifty percent.  Smiling.

27. What did you want and not get?  A profit upon selling the old house. Though not to say I am not most grateful for the sale, because that is what I wanted more than anything.  I had to answer the question, though.  

28. What was your favorite film of this year?  I thought for sure it would be Eat Pray Love since I adored the book, and the experience of going to see it with some of my best girlfriends was certainly wonderful, but the film itself left much to be desired.  My favorite movie this year, I think, was the HBO Miniseries John Adams.  (What?  It's on DVD.)

29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?  I was thirty-two, and Kevin and I and the kids spent the day at the Shedd Aquarium in Chicago.

30. What one thing would have made the year immeasurably more satisfying?  A babysitter.  I mean that.  The kids and I never, ever get a break from each other and I think we all suffer because of it, in our own ways.  I think I could be a better mom if I could find a babysitter for just an hour or two or three.  

31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2010?  How would you describe solid color t-shirts, jeans and Converse gym shoes?  Sorry, toss in a few of my hand-made bracelets and a spritz on the neck of Ralph Lauren Romance.  Trade up the jeans for black yoga capris, if I am home. That's my style, whatever it is.

32. What kept you sane?  Meditation.  An empathetic husband.  Going on dates with my girlfriends.

33. Which public figure/celebrity did you fancy the most?  Oprah Winfrey wins this one, hands down.  I also love George Clooney for his work in Darfur, Sudan.

34. What political issue stirred you the most?  Gay Marriage.  I felt it to my core this year.

35. Who do you miss?  My closest friends when I cannot be with them. Especially those who live farthest away.  I have found an entirely new adoration this year for the amazing women in my life.  

36. Who was the best new person you met?  Does seeing someone in an entirely new light count?

37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2010.  Follow your heart, as fearlessly as you can muster, in love.  If following your heart pisses people off, the world will not end.  

38.  Quote a song lyric that sums up 2010.

So tie me to a post and block my ears

I can see widows and orphans through my tears

I know my call despite my faults

And despite my growing fears.

But I will hold on hope

And I won't let you choke

On the noose around your neck.

And I'll find strength in pain

And I will change my ways

I'll know my name as it's called again...

(Mumford and Sons, The Cave)

39. Quote a line from a book that sums up 2010.  Be responsible for the energy you bring to people.  --Jill Bolte Taylor, A Stroke of Insight

40. Favorite shot of the year?

I was so humbled to be here. 

***

Happy New Year, friends.

2010 in review, photo style

Christmas Recap

To be honest I am a bit lacking for words today, but I know with what speed this week between Christmas and New Year's passes for my family, and I want to document the fact that this Christmas was so good.  

We spent Christmas Eve with Kevin's family, as we do every year, and now a little addition who missed the celebrating by just a few days (though not the presents!) is on his way.  My sister-in-law, Kevin's brother's wife, is in labor with their first baby as I type this-- a baby boy.

Christmas morning came early, as these things tend to do with young children, and all I can say is that I am so glad to have such a mess, such a flurry of excitement, such noise and fun on this day every year.  I was built for this stuff.

For Kevin I photographed his beloved twelve string guitar and had a giant print framed for him.

I was the happy recipient of this simple and awesome ring, on which a quote by Helen Keller is engraved: All that we love deeply becomes a part of us. Fantastic, husband.  I've not taken it off since.  He also got me a pocket-sized camera with video, that we can take with us to Africa this year!  

Baby videos!  Baby videos!

I don't think I've ever mentioned what we've given or received as gifts before, but these somehow seemed worth mentioning.  Ten years of marriage has us on target with ourselves and each other, and I love that.

With my mom still finishing up her recovery weeks after her surgery, I had the opportunity to host both Thanksgiving and Christmas this year, which were so much fun to do.  (I hope she lets me keep them.)  I have loved festively decorating tables and making enormous meals for the family we love.

A fridge full of leftovers ain't so bad, either.

I also can't get over Leslie's ability to create fancy napkin displays atop piles of plates.  I think I photographed them at Thanksgiving, too.  

Also inadvertently photographed, the chunk of Christmas tree lights that went out on Christmas Eve.  Of course they did.  Not photographed, the giant upstairs tree whose lower half has been smashed and disassembled more times than I can count, by a toddler who shall remain nameless.

(Meet Nameless.)

Said toddler received such an wonderful set of gifts this year from her collective grandparents-- the wooden cradle for herself her baby dolls hand made by my dad, complete with a pillow, mattress, blanket and afghan that my mom made for her.  

To top it off my mother-in-law whipped up a gorgeous baby doll sized quilt, all of which I hope last forever for her.  She is far too young to really appreciate such gifts, but I am not.

She is also far too young to care for an infant, as evidenced here in her pretend play.

I will work with her, before her baby brother or sister comes home.  Really, really work with her.

She's so proud of herself, you see, with the way she's got that blanket so flat and perfect over that baby.  Can't see an inch of the baby, can you?  Nope, not an inch.  Warm little baby, that one.

She's so cute.  I'll correct her ill parenting tomorrow...

In the interest of full disclosure I will tell you that our living room is completely trashed.  My poem yesterday was no lie.  My kids have been overstimulated, underslept and terribly sugared for days.  We've had overnight guests, presents unwrapped and played with far and wide, legos assembled and smashed, and the destruction is massive.  But also, it's been a good time.  I read a quote by Andy Rooney recently, which I tried to hang onto over these days:  One of the most glorious messes in the world is created in the living room on Christmas Day. Don't clean it up too quickly.

Well, I left it alone yesterday and then did clean it up today.  And then it came right back out.  I tried.

+++

And while I wrote this entry Kevin sent me text messages from the hospital: our little nephew, Michael Keith, was born about 10:30.  5 pounds, 14 ounces, 18 inches long.  Big congrats to Brian and Jamie!

Twas the day after Christmas...

Twas the day after Christmas and all through the house,

Not a soul had slept in, not even my spouse.

The shreds of the wrapping were tossed here and there,

Boxes under my feet, scotch tape in my hair.

The children were glued to the screen with the Wii,

New Mario, new Football, a DS playing spree!

What the heck are you doing, I begged of my clan,

And they looked at me puzzled, in fear of my plan.

Snow deep in the yard, casserole dried to each dish,

Legos spread far and wide, magic wand my first wish.

A hope and a wish and miraculous prayer, 

Beseeching the tot that a nap might be there.

At one o’clock, two o’clock, three, I don’t care.

An hour of silence or four is quite fair.

Holiday cookies for breakfast, more casseroles for lunch,

Larger pants on Monday for the whole snacking bunch.

New Year’s Eve party Friday and then Jack turns Five,

Holy God will I make it through hosting, alive?

Then up in the bedrooms arose such a clatter,

That I climbed from the laundry to see what was the matter.

Cinderella, they shouted, and My Little Pony!

The girl is trashing our loot, they did grumble and groany.

Snow White wed Luigi, she made Skywalker drink tea,

She messed up my bed! What’s that smell?  Did she pee?!

Oh sister, toddler, go play with your own,

Or bother our mother- just throw us a bone.

Where is your father?!  I then shrieked with delight,

He is off work today!  And should handle this fight!

Then what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But my husband with Bears game and bottle of beer.

We should relax, he proclaimed without doubt,

And I wondered what the hell this Relax was about.

No laundry or cooking or trash?  I did shout.

Just leave it a mess, he said-- then I passed out.

Then spouse and three children, they dragged me to bed, 

dropped my limbs, bruised my ribs, set my book by my head.

I began to recover, moved blissfully to read.

The children, they lived, ate Gramma’s brownies with speed.

Tomorrow is different, we’ll get back on our task,

And if they don’t help, a swift kick to the…ask.

Enjoy your new toys and don’t clean your house,

If you need forcing I’ll lend you my spouse.

A new sort of post-Christmas, I proclaim with delight,

Relaxation to all—I think I just might.

There were two in a bed and the little one said...

2008

My girlfriend Jenny buys a new mattress which is non-refundable and on which she is uncomfortable.  We need a new bed.  We buy hers.  All are happy.

6.2010

Our relatively new mattress is sinking.  How is this possible?  All are no longer happy.

11.2010

I can no longer sleep on said mattress.  The middle of the bed has sunken a full six inches lower than the head and foot.  My back is aching and I am pretty ticked off that a two year old mattress could possibly break down so quickly.  I spend a few weeks (hardly) sleeping on the couch.

12.12.2010

We suck it up, spend the money and buy a new bed.  A set, with box springs and headboard and footboard.  We are grown-ups!  The salesman at the furniture store warns us that if we get blood on the mattress, like he once did while clipping his toenails, we will void our warranty.  Freaking Gross, sir.

12.18.2010   8am

We empty out our bedroom in preparation for delivery of our new bed.  I list the old bed on freecycle, and we drag the old(ish) mattress to the living room floor while it waits to be spoken for by new owners.

12.18.2010   8:17am

Watching the children roll around on the mattress on the living room floor, I observe something peculiar: this two year old mattress, which upstairs could have functioned as a skate board park as it were, now appears flat.  

12.18.2010   8:18am

I lay down on the mattress.  Solid and comfortable.

8:19am

Kevin and I rush upstairs to inspect our box springs, which is original to us from my college days.  Sunken.  Cracked.  Garbage.

8:20am

DOH!

9:02am

Our new, non-refundable bed is delivered.  

We sit on the hall floor, half way between the new bed in our bedroom and the new-ish bed in the living room. We debate a solution.  Leave it on freecycle? Swap our boys' twin beds out for this queen size? They sleep together half the time anyway.  Give it to-- GASP!  Marin?  She's been climbing out of her crib for months, and soon we will be shelling out money for another twin mattress or a trip to the Emergency Room anyway.

9:47am

Kevin begins dismantling the crib in Marin's room.  I sit a few feet away and cry about my babies and all of the growing up they keep doing.

10:32am

We bid farewell to the crib that our three babies slept in.  Kevin's dad purchased this crib for KJ before he was born, and then he passed away in 2005, while I was pregnant with Jack.  He never got to hold Jack or Marin, but there was always something nice about the idea that they slept in the bed their grandpa bought.  

Since then the crib has been broken and repaired, jumped in, chewed on, climbed in and out of, and recalled.  After three babies it has seen too much wear and we must have a new crib before the arrival of our next baby, for safety.  This was the end of something.

11:14am

A very small princess (dressed in a flower girl dress) in a very large bed.  With the most child-friendly sheets we could dig out of the linen closet-- flannel snowmen.  Does princess bedding even come in Queen Size, Extra Deep Pocket, I wonder?

11:17am

Antics.

1:25pm

Naptime is shaky as expected.  The security of her little crib is gone and she needs me to lay down with her, rub her back, rock her, stay with her.  She eventually dozes off for a little while.  

9:35pm

Pleased with my brilliant plan to keep her up past her bedtime, in order to create a tired, sleep-ready toddler who will stay in her new bed, I rock her, lay with her, read her stories and rub her back before I kiss her goodnight.

9:37pm

She joins me in the living room.  I put her back.

9:42pm

She climbs into her brother's bed.  She pokes his cheek hastily, attempting to wake him before I can reach her.  I put her back.

9:43pm

She follows me out.  I put her back.

9:52pm

She has emptied her toy box onto the floor and requests that I play with her.  I decline, politely.

9:54pm

She joins me in the kitchen.  I put her back.

9:55pm

She emerges.  I put her back.

9:56pm

She emerges.  I put her back.

9:57pm

She emerges.  I put her back.

10pm

As a necessary next step, I put up a baby gate in her doorway.  She cries for a minute or two and falls asleep.

10:22pm

She is at her gate again.  She requests that I sleep with her.

11:34pm

I am still in her room (less) patiently giving back rubs and coercing an unwilling toddler to sleep.  A first-night peaceful transition is what I am holding out hope for.

12:07am

I kiss her and head downstairs to turn off lights for the night.  It could be a long(er) one, I fear.  Then I crawl into my own bed.

12:42am

Just as we drift off to sleep I hear Marin toss a book into the hall, over the baby gate.  Then another.  Another another another another another.  Kevin reminds me that books can be easily cleaned up in the morning.  Maybe she will sleep soon, he suggests.

12:53am

She has emptied her entire bookshelf into the hallway, easily more than two hundred books.  Then she tosses her beloved pink blankie, sippy cup of water and Pegasus stuffed animal atop the pile.  And cries.

12:59am

I retrieve her blankie and pony, damn near kill myself sliding atop the large pile of books and climb over the baby gate, giving up all hope of sleeping in my own new bed, just hoping for any sleep at all, in hers.

1:12am

I realize that I need a decent pillow and maneuver my body half-way over the gate, over the pile of books and crane my neck around the corner to wake the blissfully sleeping father of this beautiful, insane child in order that he could deliver my pillow.  Then we will all sleep.

1:13am

In his sleep, he grabs my pillow and makes his way around our new bed, forgetting that we are now the proud owners of a footboard.  He slams his knee into the pointy wooden corner of the footboard, letting out a painful scream, and goes running down the hall.  (Then we will all not sleep.)

1:14am

I leap over the gate, over the books, and follow him downstairs to the kitchen, seeing a bright red trail of blood seeping into the carpeting down the hall and the stairs.  People do not think to dart into the nearby bathroom WITH THE TILED FLOOR, in their sleep.

1:15am

I direct my husband to sit in the kitchen and elevate his leg, applying pressure with a washcloth to the two inch gash on his knee.  I take a look to see whether I should wake the (two) sleeping children in order to drive their father to the hospital for stitches.  Surely Marin will sleep in the car.  The gash cannot be fixed by stitches.

1:21am

I begin scrubbing the carpet, from our bedroom all the way down the hall past the bathroom and down the stairs.  There is a large drip of blood every ten inches or foot, at least.  And none of it is coming out.  We joke about homeowners insurance.  Kevin utilizes lamaze breathing techniques.

1:43am

I return to the kitchen with a bottle of peroxide, large padded bandages and surgical tape.  I clean my husband's still-bleeding knee.  He refrains from punching me.  I bandage his leg.  I point him towards the dark brown, family room couch.  He will not be voiding our warranty on the very first night of owning our bed before we've even slept in it, as per Mr. Bloody Toenail Salesman.

1:52am

I begin scrubbing the bloody kitchen floor.  Our house, it appears, has been the setting for a massacre.

2:13am

Exhausted, I drag myself back upstairs, peeking in on our baby daughter, who I am positive is sleeping by now, since she has been so quiet.  And because it's after two o'clock in the freaking morning.  Our eyes meet and she greets me-- Hi Mom!  I lecture her, offering approximately eight million, nine hundred thousand and forty-six more words than she even understands in the English language, and I am sure that I sound exactly like Charlie Brown's teacher, but I don't even care.  

Wah wahwahwah wah wah, Wah wah wah wah stay in your damn bed wah wah.

2:18am

I flop into my new bed.  Marin stays in hers for the night.

7:04am

Marin is awake, already.  I snap photographic evidence, so that you may believe.

...And also so that I may have something to show her thirty years from now, when she is exhausted and would like me to babysit her own spirited toddler child.

Most thankfully, these are the stories we can shake our heads at and laugh about twenty-four hours later.  Just, er, not quite, while deep in the tiresome trenches.

Involving thoughtfulness, if not common sense

We attended a surprise birthday party on Sunday, for KJ and Jack's buddy.  It was the first time any of my children had experienced a surprise party, and it has been talked about incessantly ever since.  

Today while I made lunch:

 

Jack: Mom, can I have a surprise party for my birthday?  

 

{Lights go on in KJ's brain, almost visibly.}

 

KJ, suddenly busting at the seams: Jack, cover your ears!

 

{Jack obediently complies, placing hands over ears, grinning from ear to ear and hopping up and down.}

 

KJ, whispering his very secret, very original idea into my ear:  Mom! Maybe we can have a Surprise Party!  For Jack!  On his birthday!  In two weeks!

 

Me: Uhhhh, sure.  (Figuring a four person surprise on the day you normally get cake and presents would suit a four five year old just fine.)

 

KJ: Okay Jack, you can uncover your ears!

 

Jack:  YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE A SURPRISE PARTY FOR ME!!

 

KJ, flabbergasted:  WHAT?!  OH MY GOD HOW DID YOU GUESS IT?!  

 

{KJ flops on the floor in disbelief, his grandiose plan, foiled!}

 

Jack, walking away mumbling plans for his own upcoming surprise party: We will have cake and presents and root beer and pizza....

Goodbye, little house.

August 2000

Our first puppy, Daniel, September 2000

Annual Fourth of July parade, 2004

Of paint fumes, November 2006

Kevin's attic craftsmenship (cat inside new wall) 2007

Babies in their favorite hiding place, summer 2007

More babies hiding, August 2010

Two thirds of these babies will argue that they are no longer babies.

At it again, August 2010

We're gonna fight, we're gonna win.  

For sale again, September 2010

December 10, 2010

It's something unpredictable, but in the end is right.  I hope you had the time of your life.