Kelle, Author at Enjoying the Small Things

A page from our storybook: The Lake

August 13, 2011 By Kelle

Wednesday night delivered. Good conversation, parking lot cartwheels.

Okay, ready? Laugh. Act natural. Pretend there’s not a self timer beeping in 3, 2, 1…and click.

Left: The Leprechaun Shuffle, Right: The Flash Mob Two-Step

All is well. (more on this and my friend next week)

And my girl is so happy to have her friends return.

*****

The Universe was kind last night. Like unicorn variety of kind.

Behold, the rainbow.

Behold, the sky swallowed up in magnificent lightning.

Behold, the cat came skipping up our driveway last night like he was just rolling in after Spring Break in Cabo.

It was a good day. To top it off, we took a leisurely stroll to the lake just as the sun was setting and our rainbow’s brilliance faded into washed-out pastels.

I took the liberty of adding the rainbow back in.

We were welcomed by friendly ducks who entertained the girls with their waddle.

Interference.

Someday the girls will discover that The Lake is really a pond and that the magic we create there is intentional in spite of the reality that it’s not the most picturesque “lake.” In fact, I make it a point to crop out the ugly blue machine that regulates the water–the one that is so cleverly hidden behind the ficus hedge but still screams “unnatural” with its vibrant blue paint and hissing pump sounds.

To my girls, our lake is storybook.

To my girls, it is a Beatrix Potter setting.

Where friendly ducks float into marshes.

And hungry bass chase Dora fishing pole bait.

I love to see things through the eyes of my girls. To let the blue water pump fade behind lush greens and ignore the fact that one side of “the lake” opens to traffic and passengers ogling our adventures. My girls don’t see that.

And when I’m with them long enough, neither do I.

Last night, we hiked the mountains; we absorbed the tranquility only a spectacular lake view like ours could offer.

And like Christmas memories that age like wine–sweeter, richer, finer–I have to smile at every one of our adventures. Storybook tales for my girls. To retell years from now over Thanksgiving dinners, sister sleepovers, Christmas Eve night.

Remember our trips to the lake?

You mean that crappy pond with the red ant piles and those disease-infested ducks?

No, the lake. Our lake. The one with the big tree that lost all its leaves in that January frost. The one that caught the western sun with its reflection and turned the glassy waters pink like salmon. The one where I caught my first fish and you took a million pictures. The one with the picnics. The one where it rained and we had nowhere to go so we hid under the bushes until Dad came and rescued us. The one where you took Nella when she was tiny and new, and you cried as you held her but smiled when I caught your sadness. The one where we laid on blankets in October and pretended it was a Michigan fall–where we sliced apples and read books and tried to imagine the air was cool and crisp.

You know, our lake.

Oh yes. Now I remember. I love our lake.

*****

Friday Phone Dump:

*****

Welcome Back to sponsor, Tea Collection. I love all of the Tea articles in my girls’ closet (Lainey’s painter overalls are my all-time favorite), but I was just peeking at some new arrivals for Fall and fell in love with these pointelle leggings for Nella. Tea Collection offers comfortable, quality clothes for babies and kids, and I love the unique global inspiration they bring to their clothing.

From their Mercado Mexicano line: Nella’s dress in this post–Ciudadela smocked dress.

Tea Collection’s current Modern Mexico line is full of rich, vibrant colors and, as always, comfortable global style. Free shipping on any order for just a couple more days (ends 8/14) using Code GOTHERE.

*****

My girl’s room is almost finished and I am loving how it turned out.

Hope your weekend is storybook.

Home, Away and the In Between

August 10, 2011 By Kelle

Let me begin with a clarification. After the last post, I got a call from my dad within the hour. It was a Code 452, prioritized on the scale of blog emergencies somewhere between letting a gosh darn slip in my prose (oooh, so bad and dangerous) and publicly dropping an f-bomb.

He was frantically laughing. “Scroll down,” he began, “and look at your pictures. That picture of you with the mannequin?” Laughter. Laughter. Hard howling laughter.

“You got a granny boob!”

Let the record state that while yes, that particular region of my body is more inclined to look south these days, it’s a nude colored sling hugging the head of a pig-tailed girl. It’s not a “pendulous bosom,” Dad.

Moving on.

I like the middle space that wedges between Away and Home, the few days of reestablishing routine and unraveling the last threads of adrenaline after an adventurous trip while simultaneously regaining footing in the familiar comforts of home. Sure, it comes with unpacking and recuperation, catching up on mail and household tasks. But it’s a place of acute awareness–reflection on both observations of new places and people as well as reminders of the things that draw us home–the grounding, guiding, calming elements from which we come–the foundation of who we are, where we live, what makes us come alive.

The driving force of my passions and inspirations will probably always vascillate between seeing new parts of the world, meeting new people and simply rooting myself deeper into my contentment of home. On every trip, just when I begin to feel gluttonous for more landmarks–more mountains, more creek side hikes, more big city symphonies of subway train and skyline, my other self starts longing for home–rainy day quilt forts and tomato soup with grilled cheese.

I guess it is that life-loving amalgam thing, and I think it’s good. Never have it figured out. Never know yourself to the point where there’s nothing to contemplate. It is in that middle space between where we’ve been and where we’re going that the best things happen. Away and Home–they are both so important.

Today, Home bestowed an all-day scattering of rain, an appropriate welcome and cue to do homey, rainy day things.

Like cast a flour-spattered, sugar-scattered spell on the kitchen where we rolled out a thick, buttery dough for cookies (recipe from the red-checkered BHG Cookbook).

And a reading session on the lanai while we watched the pine needle carpet of the woods get swallowed up in deep puddles.

I’m loving our new Audrey book. Locals, the author will be doing a book-signing in the near future at Cottontails Children’s store.

Driveway puddle jumping, accessorized with garbage bag raincoats.

And a finger puppet show. It was brilliant, let me tell you.

The tragic love story of a handsome scuba diver and his fair maiden bride.

They totally kissed.

And then she dumped the poor sap for a long-haired hippy doctor.

I smell a screen play.

And the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress goes to Nella who gave a passionate performance as the chef who tried to woo the bride with his chicken marsala.

So, my granny boobs are home, and I am happy.

My sweet wear-with-everything Stella & Dot necklace.

And, speaking of happy, can I just say, right now legwear makes me giddy. Funky socks, crazy tights. I can’t stop. Especially since Target has the most fabulous selection of $2 knee socks. I like them apples.

And how about that…I just got the call that my best friend has landed on Florida soil–crossed the Away/Home line after her summer in Michigan, and tonight we will hug, we will cry, we will reclaim our throne at Hurricanes. There will be parking lot cartwheels…fo sho.

*****

Introducing new sponsor, Thirty One Gifts, Independent Consultant Jenny Williams. I had never heard of this company and then in one week, I saw it pop up in three different places. Built on the principle of helping women become successful business owners and supporting their families, Thirty One Gifts was born, offering a large selection of purses, totes, storage solutions and more. And almost everything can be personalized.

Loving our Lil’ Hostess Apron

Right now, everything in the Thirty One Gifts catalogue is 15% off.

Left: Mini Organizer, I use for a make-up case, Right: Hot Pink ruffle mini

Happy Shopping.

*****

Poppa comes this weekend, and we are finally transforming Lainey’s room. It’s a good thing as my dining room table is covered in trinkets and room inspiration–that all began with an Ebay quilt. More to come.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, my long lost friend and parmesan fries await.

Ponytail, ponytail!

“Travel does what good novelists also do to the life of everyday, placing it like a picture in a frame or a gem in its setting, so that the intrinsic qualities are made more clear. Travel does this with the very stuff that everyday life is made of, giving to it the sharp contour and meaning of art.” ~Freya Stark

SoCool in SoCal

August 8, 2011 By Kelle

Four days away, and we pull in the garage this morning to this:

I smiled and shook my head. “Really, Brett? You bought the cat a bed? Babe, he’s not our cat; he has a collar. We can’t just go stealing someone’s cat.”

And Brett fired back his prepared response. “I leave the door open. The cat has free will. He can leave if he wants.”

So the cat has a bed now. Which was more than I could claim last night as Nella and I pretzeled our bodies together on two different planes, my head propped up by the savior of the weekend–a Tempur-Pedic pillow I scored from bags of free stuff at BlogHer.

I am warped from exhaustion, jet lag, airport chair arm rest indentations, baby carrier shoulder strain and an overwhelming amount of information from the weekend. This all manifested itself today in my parenting, a feat which I almost surrendered after two cups of strong coffee produced disappointing results. It is then that I resort to trusty back-up plans–games that allow me to lie down with my eyes closed. Games that trick kids into thinking I’m playing when really I’m just praying they’ll buy it for another half hour so I can relax. So I let them go crazy with my make-up because it’s quiet and I’m so tired, I don’t even care if my face looks like the joker.

I missed my girl. She seems taller. And even though I felt only half present today, I fully enjoyed her little hands sweeping blush on my peaked cheeks.

*****

California was lovely.

I like their well-endowed streets.

Their half-naked Santa who shot daggers with his stare-down which, I now realize, I deserved. I didn’t pay for the picture. Swear, I didn’t see that part of the sign until now. Sorry, Dude. Two cookies this Christmas for you and we’ll call it even.

Their In-N-Out burgers. Yes, I’ve been properly sworn in. A double double. And this is the sole reason it’s probably best I don’t live there.

BlogHer was…Wow. Big. A lot of people, a lot of information, a lot of innovative ideas. The moral of the story is that women are amazing and capable and are doing a lot of fantastic things to shape society, change perceptions, challenge each other, create new ideas, etc. Sessions rolled throughout the day and parties rocked the convention by night. My favorite part by far was the people. Always the people. New friends, old friends, and some lovely readers I was so honored and excited to meet. I wish there had been more time to get to know new friends.

View from the 16th floor of the San Diego Marriott Hotel.

Voices of the Year Award Ceremony

On our way to an official party Saturday evening, a group of us got lost meandering through hallways searching for the Coronado Room or Cordova Room or whatever it was called. A Congo Line formed as individuals continued to show up and attach themselves to our ever growing group of directionally challenged party goers. It just kept getting bigger–our clan of lost souls following each other up staircases, down elevators, through hallways, in search of the grand party. Unofficially, we formed the Lost Party, and our elevator rocked it out.

Go Shawty, it’s your birthday. We gonna party like it’s your birthday.

Lunch with the equally adorable and hilarious Meagan Francis.

The rest of the weekend was very whambamthankyouma’am, my insanely packed last day indicative of my desire to go and do and see as much as physically possible.

San Diego was blue and breezy and hip and young.

My dear friend Rebecca just moved to San Diego a few weeks ago, appropriately timed for our trip. She helped out with Nella and opened her home to us, and we thankfully were able to squeeze in breakfast with some of our favorite people before we left.

Amazing Swedish pancakes at The Original Pancake House

Our trip ended in L.A. at my friend Nadya’s house where Nella was finally unshackled from the confines of a baby sling to find freedom among open wood floors and baskets of toys.

I’m not allowed to book my own flights anymore. I screw them up every time. I thought I booked the 11 a.m. flight home on Sunday but no, it was 11 p.m. with a three hour layover in Cincinatti early in the morning. The silver lining lies in the fact that the twelve hour extended stay allowed for more L.A. adventures.

Why hello there, L.A. adventure.

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Cue Movie Montage Dress-up Scene, Take Two.

Sisterfriend loved SoCal.

I loved the throngs of bikers, walkers, air-breathers, life-lovers along the stretch of Santa Monica Beach. We have beaches. We have people. But not this sort of Beach + People. It was energizing, that come-togetherness of such an ecclectic group of culture and people. And now I want a funky bike.

Once again, on a different coast, in a different time zone, with new and different people…it felt the same.

And look. They have oranges too. It’s kind of like home.

*****

The Pat-a-Cake Baby $30 gift certificate winner goes to Comment #429, Smaychel: Traveling with baby sounds a little intimidating – we have a holiday planned next Spring, all the way from Scotland to Canada. Baby will be 12 months then, and I’m pretty scared of it! Looking forward to it at the same time, though, of course :)Looking forward to hearing how your trip goes!

Smaychel, please send your contact info to kellehamptonblog@comcast.net.

*****

And what do you know, right as I’m winding down on this post, Brett just ran in the house with a “They took the cat.”

“What do you mean they took the cat?” I asked.

“The people, the owners. They just came by the garage and noticed their cat and said they’ve been looking everywhere for it.”

“Well, that’s kind of embarrassing,” I answered, thankful I was absent for the exchange.

“I told them he just kept showing up at our house and wouldn’t go away,” Brett finished.

“Oh God, please tell me you didn’t say this while their cat was curled up in our cat bed. Eating cat food. In our garage.”

“Yeah, well he’s gone now.”

So long, Cat.

So long, California.

To the readers I got to meet this week…thank you. That was my favorite part. So endearing and meaningful.