{this moment}

This week's moment is best as a short series...

A Friday ritual. A single photo capturing a moment from the week to savor and remember.  Inspired by SouleMama 

ordinary days

^My dad's photo: Juniper and my man.  Yellowstone.^
Woo wee.  A lot of life has happened since I last wrote in this place.  We have camped, and harvested, camped more, harvested more.  We've visited relatives and relatives visited us.  We've been nursing colds for over a week now, finally getting over the hump.  Hazel has grown two teeth and is teetering on the edge of crawling.  Juniper's interactions with the world leave us shaking our heads everyday, marveling at her memory, her nimbleness, her physical exertion, her analogies, her language.  Our surrounding mountains are ablaze, both with fire and crimson maples.  A good friend birthed a baby girl in the same room in which Hazel entered this world.  Life is good.

It seems like both yesterday and a lifetime ago that a ten-pound Hazel was only happy thrown over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes.  Or how young Juniper seemed when, last March, she would collapse in a fit of giggles when I'd recite "T'was the Night Before Christmas" in a thick Irish accent (I tried it again today and didn't even get a second glance).  I am continually amazed by the constant change and shift of my kids' quirks.  I want to grasp at them all, record them for time immemorial, but it's like trying to grasp the wind.  The best I can do is throw up a kite and enjoy the ride. 

I have been reading Katrina Kenison's book, The Gift of an Ordinary Day: A Mother's Memoir.  She writes, 

     Our photo albums from those days are full of pictures of birthday cakes and holiday celebrations, vacation trips and family adventures, piano recitals and baseball games.  But the memories I find myself sifting through the past to find, the ones that I would now give anything to relive, are the ones that no one ever thought to photograph, the ones that came and went as softly as a breeze on a summer afternoon.

     No picture, or home video, or diary entry can begin to capture the nubbly texture, subtle tones and secret shades of a family's life as it is from one hour, or day, or season, to the next.  It has taken a while, but I know it now--the most wonderful gift we had, the gift I've finally learned to cherish above all else, was the gift of all those perfectly ordinary days.    

Be warned that what follows is a whole lot of photos of vacation trips, family adventures and (early) birthday celebrations.  But swimming in my heart is all the ordinariness, the beautiful, frustrating, rewarding, intense physicality of life with two small children.  I'm still trying to grasp the wind.  I always will.

  ^My dad's photo.  A smokey, Yellowstone sunset.^

::  My dad and step-mom stayed with us for a week.  As per usual, I didn't cook all week.  (I've promised a future of me cooking for them...one of these days.)  

My girls are lucky enough to call these exceptional, buoyant people family.

:: We caravanned up to Jellystone, meeting our Montana half.

^Sam, Owen, Uncle M and Aunt D.^

^My dad's photo(s).^

:: And now we are back to these beautifully ordinary days.  

{this moment}

A Friday ritual. A single photo capturing a moment from the week to savor and remember.  Inspired by SouleMama 

{this moment}

"Mama I have your hat.  Look!  I'm Old MacDonald!"  

A Friday ritual. A single photo capturing a moment from the week to savor and remember.  Inspired by SouleMama 

swing

"Hazel's waking up!  Haaazeeeel!!!!!  HAZEL!  Hazel's my best friend."  

^Nobody was napping and it was laundry day.  So we tore open the shutters, threw up the sash and romped on the bed.^
Geez, I've sure been enjoying my girls.  Don't get me wrong, I love having my man home, but--aside from that one frustrating day--I love the confidence and closeness we found as a threesome while my man was away working for three weeks.  When he's home we tend to fall along the lines of: he parents the older and I parent the younger.  It's an easy routine to fall into what with a vigorously breastfeeding babe.  We're aware of the divide and are trying to mix things up a bit.  Tonight, Juniper accidentally bonked her head on the bed then curled up in his lap and said, "Daddy, I need to drink some of your milk," then pretended to nurse from his shirtsleeve.

:: From the second he walked in the door, I was dropped as parent #1 like a sack of potatoes.  Even Hazel's jumping on board the daddy train.
Me: "Juniper, let's read Harry The Dirty Dog."
Juniper: "No.  Daddy do it."
Me: "Juniper, let's get your pj's on."
Juniper: "No.  Daddy do it."
You get it.        

:: Due to my husband's *crazy* summer work schedule, our May fence project turned into an all-summer-and-maybe-into-fall fence project.  We balance.  A little work on the fence,   

followed by a five minute drive and a short hike to a little nook of a beach with decent fishing.  

:: Juniper will start preschool this year.  Not until she turns 3 in October, but still.  School. I feel like I should be mourning the loss of my toddler.  And while it's true that we watch her body and her memory and her sentences lengthen and grow and we oh-so-wish we could stop the clock every so often and wallow around in RIGHT NOW, it's also true that I'm simply excited for her to start school.  I think she's ready and I think she'll love it.  Two short mornings a week: perfect.  We went to orientation today and on the way home she said, "Mama, you'll always be my mama."     

:: Lately, Hazel hasn't been napping as long as J bugs in the afternoon, so we get up and do chores together.  I fold clothes, she yanks them out and holds them to her ears.  She's always had this ear/head fetish and it's adorable.  She thought she was being so cute, like playing peek-a-boo with her ears.     

The other day, I was harvesting the bulk of our green beans when I turned around to find this:

I had three thoughts: 1) it's a good thing we garden organically, 2) it's a good thing she found a clump with no rocks to speak of, and 3) her next poo diaper is going to be gritty.

:: Ever since our visit with Grandma and her little dog Bailey, J bug has been obsessed with her "pet" dog.  Every morning he gets a leash and is drug everywhere: to the hardware store, the library, grocery store, preschool screening, post office.....    

And sometimes she nurses him at the breakfast table.

:: Tonight Juniper told my man, "Daddy, when you get to be a big girl, you can swing too."  

    

cheers

Cheers.  To Grandma's house.  To my man coming home.  To family.  To love.  

As promised: Grandma's house: 

My first time flying alone with two chickens required some logistical forethought--how do I get from the car to the check-in counter with two kids, luggage and two car seats without leaving anything or anyone unattended AND park my car in economy?  Yet despite staying up until 2:00am the night before (getting zucchini and broccoli in the freezer) and pretty much everything going wrong the next morning, the whole flying with two kids bit was easy peasy.  All thanks to my beautifully behaved two year old.  Funny how those three-foot tall people hold all the power.  (She's wearing earphones in this photo, but the player was broken.)

Upon landing, Juniper ran straight into Grandma's arms.  At home, Grandma had a surprise.  

At least once a day after my man left Juniper would say, "I lost my daddy."  And I would  reassure her that no, he wasn't lost, he was in California (or is that the same thing?).  Anyway.  Juniper was in search of a father figure and from the instant he walked in the door, J bugs attached herself to Uncle D.  Within minutes they were off doing their thing:  picking blueberries in grandma's veggie garden.  

Meanwhile, Hazel developed tooth-envy.  She gets way excited about food--blueberries and cherry tomatoes--but the girl still has a gummy smile.  

She's particularly fond of the tooth brush.  If we don't give her one of her own, she gazes at us with desperate longing.  

:: I'd mentioned we wanted to hit the beach, so Grandma treated us all to an oceanfront stay.

Juniper's first ocean-beach sand castles:

Hazel's biggest reprieve: Juniper transferred her "affections" to Bailey for the full ten days.  

Like Hazel, one minute J bugs gives her hugs and soft pets, the next minute she says, "I wanna SNAP on Bailey!"  ("Snap" is Juniper's catch-all verb that includes breaking, bending, pushing, putting a lid on, stepping on, and actually snapping snaps or buttons.)  Having Bailey around was like having two Hazels: constant mitigation was necessary.  And just like Hazel, Bailey adored Juniper despite her urge to "snap".   

:: We stopped at the Oregon Coast Aquarium.  Way cool.  We will definitely return.  

  ^Hazel in the shark tunnel.^

:: We went to the Scandinavian festival.  J bugs had to try them all...

:: And to the farmer's market where Juniper fell in love with blackberries...

:: But most importantly, we saw family.  And friends.  And friends who are like family.  

^Hazel fell in love with great Uncle D.^    

^My nearly 70 year old great Aunt J scooped Juniper up for a piggyback ride!^

^Juniper and Grandma.  Hazel and my teenhood best friend: we had not seen each other in ten years yet she is the same smart, witty, beautiful, successful woman I've always known.  I have never been able to replace her.^    

^My mom and her best friend.  They wanted a photo together but Hazel was hungry and Juniper was chewing on a leash.^  

Thanks, mom.