Kelle, Author at Enjoying the Small Things

Silhouettes

March 16, 2011 By Kelle

Pop Quiz, hotshot: which of these photos is the real dancer leaping on the beach last night and which one is me, pretending to be a dancer?

If you guessed the graceful swan in the first picture is the real one, you’re right. The second one looks like it needs a chalk outline and some crime scene tape. Like I fell out of a 15-story building and landed on the canvas of a sunset.

All this to say, Heidi and I headed to the beach last night and among watching our kids eat sand and scream at seagulls, we were sidetracked by the beautiful sunlit silhouette of the real dancer who was all whippin’ out the grand jete. And I apologize if that’s not a grand jete, but it’s the only ballet term I know, and I do my best to drop it when I can.

Lainey, unlike her mama, possesses some instinctive grace and poise.

We started ballet for her on a whim, thinking we’d do an 8-week course and peter out like we do a lot of other stuff, but she loves it. Seven months in and the kid passe’s more than she walks. Okay, I lied. I know two ballet terms.

Heidi’s response to the above move…and I quote: Who do you think you are, the (expletive expletive) Black Swan?

At least she properly represents her hometown with her choice of beach cup.

So, where were we?

We enjoyed a night out for pizza earlier this week before Poppa and Gary had to head back to Michigan. I like nights out for pizza. I like that it feels vacationey in that most pizza nights are spent at home, and going out for it is out of the ordinary and therefore more appreciated. I like the vibe of a pizzeria–the framed signed pictures of celebreties swearing it’s the world’s best pizza, the grease-stained tablets the waiters use to pencil in your order, the pitchers of fountain Coke that tastes better than usual…fizzier and colder. I like to read the story on the back of the menu that tells how the pizzeria started…how some young guy had a good idea and a great recipe and poured his life savings into starting a chain some years ago. And I like the little black-and-white picture right next to the story…the one where that young guy is smiling, balancing a great big spatula with the famous pizza pie.

Dude, what is up with our family and this new face?

We had just finished dinner when Lainey caught sight of a young girl taking a ride on the Eurobungy, this giant trampoline/bungee jumping device stationed outside the shopping center where we had dinner. And then my girl shocked me. She pointed and confidently said, “I want to ride that.” I wanted to tell her that I knew better, that she’d be catapulted into the trees, that I knew she’d just start crying to get off the minute we got in line. But I didn’t. I wanted to let her fly…to figure it out for herself even though I knew–like, could bet money–that she wouldn’t follow through. Because she’s timid and little and only three.

“Are you sure you want to ride it? Do you see how high that little girl is jumping?” I asked, careful not to sway my voice to suggest pressure either way.

“I want to ride it,” she said again. So we got in line and I waited for the moment I’d break out my prepared consolation of “That’s okay, Baby. You tried. Maybe next time.”

But she never cried. She never even hesitated. She listened to the instructions, she followed directions, she shy-smiled as her feet lost touch with the trampoline and the motor got louder as she was hoisted higher and higher. I started nervous laughing. We all did.

This is nuts. I know my kid. She’s not this girl. And then the Eurobungee man grabbed my girl’s foot, pulled it down like a sling shot, offered one last “Ready?” (followed by a nod and a smile), and then, BAM. My girl rocketed into the sky with shrieks of laughter that made heads turn in a two-mile radius. My timid little three-year old catapulted toward the fronds of towering Royal Palms that lined the sky, and our mouths gaped not only at the absurdity of a toddler’s silhouette hugging the moon but at her grin and gratification of the human rubber band ride. She surprised me again. My girl is brave and adventurous. She is almost four.

Twenty minutes later, we high-fived and applauded. Bravo, Brave Girl.

She’s on a little metamorphosis, compiling some sweet new adjectives to her ever-growing character.

She tried hard to pretend she didn’t think this was funny when she walked out of her room like this the other day.

But under all this brave and adventurous stuff, she’s still just little. She still asks me every couple weeks, “Hey Mama, when I was borned, did you cry happy tears?”

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Anyway, we’re halfway into the week and can’t ignore the fact that it’s the peak of south Florida weather right now…the best of the best. The very reason the term “snowbird” exists. It’s beautiful and breezy and warm. I am completely swayed by seasonal changes, craving all the things you’re supposed to crave when the calendar turns–pinks in spring and apple spice in fall. I am dreaming of florals and pastels and drapes that dance when the wind from open windows suddenly sweeps in. And currently in love with spring around our home…

And it just gets better from here.

I’m excited to have Me You Health back with us as a sponsor. Me You Health is a free easy way to encourage well-being awareness. “We transform discoveries from health, well-being and social connection research into simple, action-oriented pursuits that encourage meaningful behavior changes.” Join them on Facebook, check out their site and try completing their daily challenges.

I love today’s challenge: Find out something new about a neighbor, acquaintance, or local business owner.

I found out my sister sometimes puts her dirty lunch dishes in her desk drawer at work at the end of the day if she’s eager to leave. And then she has to soak them for days. And I told her I was writing that, so it’s approved.

Me You Health challenges make you think a bit more about things we seem to forget, including exercise and nutrition. Try loading some of their applications on your phone like Every Drink which alerts you throughout the day to drink enough water or Monumental, a fun app that keeps track of the stairs you climb and virtually compares it to exploring the world’s monuments.

So there. Mid-week happies.

Winner for the Petite Lemon $50 gift certificate:
Comment# 765, Sherri: Had to let you know that my little podunk town in Tennessee reported your dolphin story on the radio as I drove to work yesterday…small world, eh?

Sherri, please send your info to kellehamptonblog@comcast.net. Congratulations!

The Isles

March 14, 2011 By Kelle

Since we’ve been going to Isles of Capri, we’ve endured a nice handful of beach casualties. Barnacle cuts. Jellyfish stings. Snappy crab pinches. They’re more like badges of honor, really, or markers that distinguish one Isles of Capri trip from another. Yesterday, our list grew to include stepping on a bee (me) but far more exciting, witnessing the dispatch of the Isles of Capri firemen who sped away to save a 700-pound dolphin that jumped aboard a pontoon boat and listening to the firemen recall the event when they returned, blood-stained and exhausted. Apparently, it made national news (chance of it happening is 1 in 3,000,000)…and boat passengers and dolphin are, thankfully, all fine.

I’m sorry to say I can’t say the same for the bee.

We were feeling pretty convicted being that we hadn’t been attending services at the Church of the Holy Beach. But, lucky for us, the beach is merciful among its many other qualities, it welcomed us back, and we picked up where we left off.

Our happy place on the Isles of Capri is nothing overly fancy–a family-owned restaurant, a tiki hut bar with a thatched roof, a dock and a skinny stretch of beach, long enough for a shell-scouring walk but short enough to keep an eye on the kids without panicking. And it’s perfect for us.

And, for all the times we’ve been there, it’s different every time. Same beach, same kayaks, same bathing suits, but somehow a different brew of energy and friends and feeling–but all good.

Yesterday was colorful and calm.

I like watching Brett in his element. More relaxed–as if that’s possible–and walking around with a bit of a swagger, as if there’s a part of his subconscious slightly aware that he found this little gem years ago and, like a fine explorer, shared the goodness with the masses…the many friends and family that now join us for a rousing Sunday service at the Church of the Holy Beach. Amen to that.

I know I’ve said it before, but so many of my feel-good moments at this place are just as much about recognizing that our kids are stashing memories as they are about the splendor of the present. We talk about what they will remember–how they will retell adventures of crab hunts and dock dives in their twenties–and we hope the presence of those memories will strengthen the importance of adventure and family and making time to appreciate things like how an adirondack sinks into wet sand, how fast an army of sand crabs can scurry up a mangrove trunk, or perhaps the more phenomenal recognition of how a random flying dolphin can land gracefully onto the deck of a boat.

We stashed another jar of beach memories onto our ever-growing shelf in our Isles of Capri cellar.

The Beach “Oh,” the most higly regarded of the “Oh” variety.

And though we don’t give much attention to the “whens” and “hows” of our babies’ milestones, we have a few requirements for things our babies must do and “sleep on Isle of Capri” is one of them. They take naps in tents, wrapped in towels, snuggled in arms, cradled against cold sand, shaded from the sun in wicker baskets, and they sleep greased in sunscreen and sweaty from the heat, but sleep they do. It’s a Hampton rite of passage.

Spring forward we have…into our favorite rituals of longer days and shorter nights.

Looking forward to more grouper baskets, Bob Marley, kissing shoulders that smell like coconut, synchronized dock dives, Johnson Bay sunsets, salty crater jumping, late beach storms that send us running into the tiki hut for coffee, and the many hundred moments I’ll stop for just a second and think “I hope they remember this.”

Game on, Isles of Capri. We’ll be back.

I have no cheesy transition to switch gears here, but check out another fabulous company, Petite Lemon Prints, joining our sponsors. Petite Lemon Boutique specializes in personalized gifts and stationery and has an excellent variety of both fun, whimsical and fresh, modern products including posters, cards, canvases and growth charts. All products are custom created with premium papers, quality craftsmanship and eco-friendly inks that print rich, beautiful colors. I love Nella’s new growth chart, and Sister’s lovin’ it too.

Plus, they included a little stack of the cutest miniature cards with my order, and I love me some minis!

Use Code NELLALOVE15 for 15% off your order. And a lucky commenter on this post will be receiving a $50 gift card to their store (valid on decor products: photo posters, alphabet posters and growth charts).

Happy Monday!

And some of my favorite Isles of Capri jams canned and stored on my shelf: giant crab trip, giant starfish trip, growing belly trip, Memorial Day bash trip, giant ball of family love trip.

Milestones

March 11, 2011 By Kelle

I had a great preface to this little story in my head this morning. It was eloquent. But now it’s late afternoon, I have to get ready for a birthday party, and I’m going to write thoughtlessly…but heartfelt.

I was in the bedroom last night for just a moment while the girls tore through a pile of toys in the playroom and Brett kept an eye on my potatoes in the oven. And in the five seconds I was out of sight, I heard a mild little crash and waited for a cry. Instead, I heard Brett excitedly call out, “Mama, we need you” followed by an urgent and escalating, “Code Red, Code RED, CODE RED!”

Of course, a mama comes running.

Except, instead of the tragic scene I was expecting, I sprinted to meet my husband, beaming. He was pointing. At Nella.

And I turned to see my girl. Standing at the coffee table.

You might think standing at the coffee table isn’t a big deal.
But it is.

My girl proudly pulled herself up, with no help, and stood. Because she is strong.

I remember the day Lainey took her first steps. And how we clapped and cried, celebrating another page turned in the epic novel of life. It was a very big deal, indeed.

And I remember the day we heard the words “delayed milestones” and how we thought that would be very, very hard.

I hardly ever think about “delayed milestones.” I like the way she skids her belly across the floor to crawl, the way her body forms like putty in my arms. And though every once in awhile, I wonder if she knows she can’t quite keep up like the other kids–and that question alone saddens me–it is fleeting, turned off with a powerful switch I control. But, you know when I think most about delayed milestones?

…when she nails them.

It is beautiful. The depth of her proud smile, the reberverating echo of clapping, the way her sister runs to pat her on the back and sweetly chirps “Good job, Nella” or that tiny little second I share with Brett…when our eyes meet and smile and blink back a tear or two because we share the fact that she is ours, and she is growing.

When they tell you your child will have delayed milestones, it means less that you will struggle and ache for those events to come but more that when they do come, your heart will leap, your soul will celebrate and your arms will stretch to hold and kiss the growing one that forever surprises you.

Yesterday, we celebrated standing at a coffee table like it was walking first steps. And in a way, it was. She knows she’s strong now. She’s aware of her capabilities. And we will continue to encourage that awareness, applauding and praising the ever present gifts our beloved littles possess.

And, in this moment, I am reminded of some of the best advice I’ve received this past year.

“Put the Down syndrome books away. They’ll be there when you need them. Instead, go out and buy a copy of a book you’ll find more useful. Dr. Seuss’ Oh, the Places You Will Go.”

My sweet girls. You are capable, you are loved, you are celebrated.
And oh, the places you will go.