Archives for August 2015

Enjoying: Jesus Christ Lizard

August 13, 2015 By Kelle

A couple interesting things I learned this week.

1. Turns out an old disconnected phone with no SIM card can dial 911. And your 5-year-old who will barely stay on the phone with your mother for a “Hi Grandma, I love you” will indeed chat with the sheriff’s department for a good two and a half minutes. And they will come visit you just to make sure your line of “I’m so sorry, that was my kid” is true. Which I like. But still. Not the kind of Cops & Robbers I like to play. And do kids still play that?

2. I saw Jesus! In lizard form! It’s a real thing. A Jesus Christ lizard. Google it. He was running on the beach on his hind legs. Back straight, arms a swingin’, healing people and preaching the gospel. The kids thought it was the funniest thing they ever did see, and it was! What is it about animals that act like humans? To this day, funniest thing on You Tube are cats in clothes and dogs who dance.

He would not turn the gulf into wine though. I asked.

And with that very important information out of the way, we are enjoying the last drops of things we love about home-from-school days. Impromptu day adventures, morning swims, play dates, picnic lunches and morning snuggles that aren’t interrupted by the hustle to get out the door.

Enjoying…

His “Look at that hilarious Jesus lizard” face.

His mullet’s last day to blow in the wind.

Curls that stayed after his new trim.

Her Karate Kid dance.

Mom duties. Took care of the stuffed squirrel in this stroller like a boss.

The third grader who reports she’s anxious about “absolutely nothing” for back-to-school.

The temperature of the gulf right now. Spa waters.

The evening family swim.

Putting away our summer adventures kind of like how we put away our suitcases after a long trip. We leave them out for a while, pull things as we need them, put things away gradually

(Several people asked about Nella’s boots on Instagram. They’re Zara Kids.)

New Year’s Resolutions, Finally! 7 Months Late

August 11, 2015 By Kelle

There are three lunch boxes stashed above our washer and dryer, waiting for the first day of school. Three. Given my past record of sentimentality, I should be in a fetal position somewhere with a bag of Cheetos, a stack of tear-stained baby books and Slipping Through My Fingers on repeat. But alas, I am not. How should I explain this? Maybe this will do:

For the record, that lipstick cost $14. Thankfully, I was over Lady Danger–moving on to bluer hues. But still. I’m a little tired, and I know that new routines, new places and a world of new things to learn is the best thing for all of us right now.

I wasn’t ready for any new resolutions in January, but I had 7 months to think about it, and I’m ready now. Pack your backpacks, put on your gym shoes. Let’s light the world on fire.

These pencil socks though, right? We’re going to do big important things in these socks.

New Year’s Resolutions, 2015

10. More Snail Mail. I’m on a roll right now–two packages out last week to little ones we love, and it felt so good to put them together. I dedicated an entire drawer of my desk to snail mail and organized it over the weekend–new stamps, stickers, good stationery, fun stuff to include in packages like bookmarks and temporary tattoos. I tucked in some good gel pens and a few fun pictures I cut out of magazines. We are going to earn our care package badge this year and make friends’ days special as often as we can.

9. Show up in Classrooms. Without overcommitting (the letdown–more like guilt, less like milk coming in–feels awful), I’m excited to show up in my kids’ classrooms more. Maybe the teacher will even let me read Miss Nelson is Missing to the class.

8. More Post School Drop-off Breakfast with Friends. Even if it’s a quick coffee chat in the parking lot. Besides, fall’s around the bend, and we are going to need to discuss important things like where to hang the leaf garland and how to arrange the pumpkins around the front door.

7. Continue Simplifying.
After reading the Tidying Up book that rocked everyone’s world early in the summer, I must have halved all of our closets and toys and it felt incredible. More, more, more. I love using the filter “Does it bring you great joy?” for deciding what goes and stays in our home, closet, etc.

6. Use my Gym Membership.
As Elle Woods would say, endorphins make you happy.

5. Draw More.
It makes me happy. Early morning doodles with coffee, afternoon stress relief with the kids and some colored pencils. I’ve been pulling lots of inspiration from the 20 Ways to Draw series. We have a few of these books, and there’s a new one coming in September–how to draw house stuff!
20 Ways to Draw a Dress, Draw 500 Things from Nature, 20 Ways to Draw a Chair (comes out Sept 1)

4. Wear Real Pajamas. My favorite thing to buy for my kids is pajamas, and I’m obsessed with getting them as cozy and comfortable before bed as possible and yet I’m constantly wearing exercise shorts and t-shirts. Comfy, yes, but I like the idea of real made-for-bed pajamas. I’m going to step up my grown-up lady game and work on my pajama drawer (anyone have any favorite brands? Something a grown-up lady would wear? Or, okay, a kid-who-still-likes-cartoons-trapped-in-a-grown-up-lady’s body would wear?)

3. Meditation Baths. We just started these, but my kids have been loving them. Candles, essential oils, lights off, bubbles and some guided meditation (“Close your eyes. Take a deep breath in…now relax your shoulders…now your elbows…your wrists…your fingertips.”). You can find several guided relaxation scripts online that are helpful. A great way to wind down on school nights!

2. Entertain. Lower standards for having people over (what’s that verse? “Candles cover a multitude of paper plates.”) means more opportunities to connect with our neighbors and friends. I love people in our home. I love sitting around the table long after dinner’s over. I love that last goodbye as Brett and I wave from the driveway and finally close the door. “That was fun” always follows.

1. Invest in Us. We’ve been talking a lot about this one lately. We are good at Family. United front, group hugs, family outings–we got this. But US, the two-letter word? We need more of it. We’ve been trying to line up more babysitters (dinner and a movie last weekend–look at us! we’re flying!), watch each other’s shows and talk about things other than kids, kids, kids. It’s not easy when kids take up so much of our lives and time. Also, holding hands in the car across the middle console is my favorite. Just a little way to say, “Hi! It’s you and me.” That is until someone asks for a cup from the back seat.

These little moments? Slipping through my fingers all the time.

Oh, who am I kidding? I’m totally going to cry pulling away from school next week.

An Ode to Her Barbies

August 6, 2015 By Kelle

Like a police lineup, she positions them on the ground to account for all of them–synthetic hair, mostly blond, splayed out against the pavement and mismatched outfits–all of them awful–creating a nice visual pattern across the driveway. Except for the red gingham skinny pants–I’d wear those.

There’s Poop, the first real Barbie she named in the parking lot of Toys ‘R Us, and Grocery Store, the auburn-haired beauty. Then there’s Chocolate Lake, Beek and Joann. Paquel II, replacing Paquel I who fell into the Chattahoochee River (God rest her soul). Ken, the brave fashion warrior (powder blue corduroy coveralls–too short–with tiny pearl buttons? What other guy can pull that off?). And then Barbie, Barbie and Barbie–apparently not yet important enough to inherit a Nella-bestowed name.

They are members of our family now. They sleep in our beds, join us for meals and get buckled into car seats every time we leave the house. They’ve seen us naked multiple times–showing up in our showers and crowding our bathtub when we’re trying to relax, their bodies floating beneath the suds in such a way that all that can be seen is hair, fanned out in a perfect display even when wet, and boobs–twin peaks, rising above the bubbles. It’s the hair that enamors her. Every doll she picks up, she swings. Swings and watches as hair flies left, right, left. Her newest favorite doll, a dollar store Barbie knockoff yet to be named, has the longest hair of all, although it’s confined to three hair plugs on a head that’s fallen off seven times. Okay, Dash assisted for six of them. She came from a thrift store, crammed with a crumpled mess of tiny clothes in a toy net with eight other Barbies, and of course Nella spotted them right away. They looked like a fish catch all jammed in there, their faces pressing through the plastic netting, and I felt sorry for them, so I gladly spent the $6–a steal really, even considering the matted hair and one cheapo with the loose head.

I’m growing fond of them. Never a Barbie lover for various reasons, I always liked that my kids were more drawn to baby dolls–something homey, cozy, nurturing about them. But here we are, our house swelling with Mattel plastic–flawless figures and arched toeless feet and knees that click-click-click into bends. These perfect dolls in the hands of my perfect girl create some sort of magic–a place where imagination is wild and free, speech is fluent, friends are abundant and real life scenarios are played out with hilarious accuracy, right down to sassy Barbies who talk back and are scolded.

These Barbies have entertained us on road trips, eased apprehension at doctor appointments, kept us company at the grocery store, at the movies, at a friend’s house and comforted through knee scrapes and head bumps. They’ve shown us how to get our hair washed without crying, how to sit in a dentist chair, how to try new foods. If Barbie can do it, you can too.

Through Barbies, I’ve heard voices I didn’t know were in her, phrases I didn’t know she could say, and have observed her deep understanding of conversation and inflection and attitude: “No way!” “Mmmm-hmmmm.” “Really?” “You’re so funny.” “Oh my God.” “For real?” Fake laugh, fake cry, fake snore. And my favorite, a perfect eye-rolling teenager-ish “O-kaaaaaaaayyy.” She is an actress; she breathes life and character into her Barbies and consequently, they breathe life and character into our home.

I scoop a heap of them out of the tub to clean it, I reach to retrieve them when the sliding van door opens and they all fall out, I stretch the pool net out to skim the floating one–the only one she wants, of course. I sigh as I bend again and again to pick up a tiny shoe, a skirt, a plastic laptop the size of a postage stamp. But I know that I’ll miss them. When someday I pull the couch back to find Paquel forgotten, no longer played with–her hair entangled with lint, her discovery entangled with memories. I’ll smile, knowing the imagination she helped launch has only abounded and the friend that she was has been replaced by many.

Until then, there’s a sleepover happening in a shoe box right now. They’re getting wild–I must go attend.