Enjoying Archives - Page 18 of 23 - Enjoying the Small Things

Enjoying the Small Things Encore and a Healthy Dose of Swear Guilt

February 8, 2011 By Kelle

This is how it starts.

It’s called slippage, my Friends. The unattended slow decline of a room that was once clean. It’s a critical stage this slippage is, a fine line between capable of restoration and destined for disaster. Unrecognized, it could exponentially worsen. And it wouldn’t be the first time three books, a wadded sock, a lone boot, a winter vest, the tag ripped off a new bra and an inside-out pair of underwear transformed overnight to the back of Sanford and Sons’ truck. I’m just sayin’.

And while I would love to weave this little ditty into some beautiful post with applicable truths about pulling our shit together, I got nothin’. Nothin’ except a call from my dad in about–oh, twenty-two minutes–about not swearing on my blog (last time, seriously). What I really want to say is I had this storm of contemplations this weekend–the kind of inner dialogue that would have spurred good conversation in a circle of friends where both fervent likemindedness and passionate rebuttals would have spurred further good conversation. But alas, I was not in a circle of friends but rather deliberating motherhood, God’s existence, cloth diapers, canned food, the presence of fear, pleasing others, pre-K, homeschooling, the state of the Union and Christina Aguilera’s Superbowl performance all by myself while I attempted to put away laundry and sort through Lainey’s old 2T clothes. Apparently I didn’t get to the vest and lone boot in the bedroom.

Anyway, I used up all my good stuff on fake conversations in my head. With that said, I’m calling it a night with another Enjoying-the-Small-Things post because, seriously…can you enjoy them too much? Small things are like McDonald’s fries, cheesy popcorn, beach sunsets…there’s no such thing as too many.

So…

The Shadow Hunter.
I laughed just typing that. Because it’s the funniest little quirk she has. She’s obsessed with shadows…will spot the smallest sliver of light from a mile away and boot-scoot her way over to it as quick as lightning just to make her shadows.

Let’s Play Friends.
It is Lainey’s most favorite thing to do. “Let’s Play Friends.” And it involves two stuffed animals and her mimicking their voices with this high-pitched Muppet-sounding squeak that makes me stifle laughter every time. It always starts with the same line: “Hi, what’s your name? You wanna be friends?” No one’s ever said that to her and I sure as hell haven’t heard my shy girl say it to anyone else, but still…it’s such a cool thing. I forget what my child development classes said this all means, but I’m pretty sure it’s some important stage of growing up where my three-year-old is becoming socially aware and more compassionate and all that good stuff. To me, it’s just another opportunity to sit and stare and be amazed that this little doe-eyed wonder belongs to me and that I get to watch her line up stuffed bears and shaggy dogs and peep out made-up conversations for a long time. And clarification: I just read this to Brett and he said he taught Lainey how to say “Hi, let’s be friends.” Glad we got that out of the way.

Saggy Tights.
I like ’em. That is all.

Fair Weather
I literally pulled one of these cheesy moves today. Because the sky was ten shades of blue, the wind was in a really good mood, and the sun combined with the sweet smell of grass and echoing wind chimes for one high-on-life February cocktail.

The bonus of nice weather? The thrill of it works like beer goggles. ‘Cuz I looked out my backyard and actually thought the pathetic dry remains of Nella’s party arbor and our irresponsibility in letting it sit out there for two weeks transformed to something pretty.

The backyard just wanted to give the lone boot and bra tags in my bedroom a run for their money.

Fair Weather Things
If fair weather makes me high on life, then the fun things you do in fair weather make me…hmmm…what trumps high-on-life?

Standing Attempts…
…make her feel all triumphant and proud.

And then she squints her eyes and smiles all Winston Churchill-like which makes me scoop her up and squish that little marshmallow as close as I can get her. Punch-drunk love, Baby. Makes me all slap-happy and filled up. And I can’t get enough.

Being Present.

It will be a repeated declaration here, something I will continue to remind myself to do by typing the words, and I’ll feel good just by saying it. I’ll celebrate triumphantly when I’ve had a nice stretch of days completely aware and undistracted and yet I know I’ll have days where I’ll feel guilty for multi-tasking and spending too much time checking e-mails or planning what we’ll do next. I think the see-saw of being fully present and reminding myself to be is good though.

I know I will always thrive on projects and people and having lots of things going on in my life…part of that makes me a better mom, I really believe it, and I want to model for my girls the amazing satisfaction having hobbies, fulfilling passions and helping others brings to life.

But I think that tiny uncomfortable feeling of guilt that arises when we feel we could have done better is good too. Because what follows it is the best of the best, Baby–the full-dose, the first fruits. If we’ve already arrived, we have no place to go. But if we, for just a moment, feel like we might have slipped, how amazing are those next efforts, eh?

My sister and I recently discussed the presence of fear because it seems everyone wants to be fearless these days. Don’t get me wrong–I want to be a badass. But, as my sister said, “A little bit of fear is good. Without it, we’d get into a lot of trouble.” I thought about it, and she’s right. Fear and guilt and all those bad emotions we think we, as moms, are supposed to detox out aren’t always so bad. Sometimes they govern good. And, while I ultimately seek a beautiful world of balance, until then, I will use a good occasional dose of guilt to propel me to deliver the best of the best. Ebb and Flow. One step back and three badass steps forward.

(and if you put fearless as your word, don’t feel bad…I want to be fearless too!)

And that brings me to the end here, and I’m sorry to say, Dad, I swore a few times. I don’t know what my problem is tonight. I’ll clean up my act. I’ll use my swear guilt to fuel a nice clean post next time around. The best of the best…I promise.

To make up for it, some giveaway winners. Winners, please e-mail your contact deets to kellehamptonblog@comcast.net.

*Timeless Settings $50 gift certificate winner, Comment#18: Rojas Family: Beautiful post. I love the look on Lainey’s face when she’s holding Nella. It made me chuckle

And two Lisa Leonard Designs $50 gift certificate Winners:

*Comment #1410, p.o.s.h.: AUDACIOUS 🙂 love the giveaway!!! and the blog…as always. ~CC
*Comment #2382, riversnake: My word of the year is “imperfect” because I need to stop setting myself up to such high standards and instead start loving myself imperfections and all! So, I bet you can guess which piece I’ll be getting if I win. ~ Jill

Renewing Sponsor Bambaroos Boutique (the cute flower headbands the girls wear) has an awesome Valentine’s Day special going on right now too. Check it out HERE.

Leaving you with some of your “words of the year” I so enjoyed.

Settled ~Kelly
Changed ~Tera
Celebrate ~Autumn
Forward ~Beachbum 0407
Purposeful ~Bonnie Spear
Triumphant ~Debbie T
Simplify ~Tara
Passion ~Linda T
Today ~Brown-Eyed Mama
Resilient ~Erin
Authenticity ~Emma

Have a great week.

Enjoying the Small Things

February 4, 2011 By Kelle

When all else fails, there exists the ever present need to enjoy the small and simple things.
With that said, a mindless but needful Friday post:

E N J O Y I N G . . .

Nella Messes.
Her mad roller derby crawling skills and advanced mobility and curiosity bring with it new messes which are, in their own way, delightful to find. Messes like an entire bag of wheat puffs she dumped in the play room.

The Angry Face.
She has to force it, but it’s so funny, I find myself prompting her. “Show me angry,” I’ll say. And she works so hard to hide her smile as she furrows her brow and purses her lips. Makes me laugh, every time.

Sleepy Meals.
Eating is hard work. And this face clearly says, “I’m done.”

You Gotsa Blizzard, We Gots Sunshine.
Not that I’m rubbing it in because, Lord knows, I miss the cozy feeling of Batten Down the Hatches and watching mad flakes dance and skip and join forces for a victorious whiteout. However, after a string of boot-wearing, quilt-hugging days, the emergence of warm pavement that calls for bare feet and higher temps that beg for suits and clover-hunting afternoons is happily welcomed.

And our kickball doubles as therapy. It’s so funny to watch her strain her little side muscles to stay upright, and she’s gettin’ really good at it.

Chutes and Ladders
She’s still figuring out the rules of the game and kinda cheats by going up all the ladders and avoiding all the chutes…

…but she does think it’s really funny how the game pieces look like us.

Daddy Lovins.

Impromptu Getaways.
They are redeeming in that they erase the busy and craziness of multi-tasking days and have a way of reversing event-filled schedules to a seemingly blank slate. And the shorter the notice, the better. Like, “Hey Brett, can you meet us at Steak ‘n Shake in twenty minutes?”

The excitement being that a family trip to Steak ‘n Shake is a first. And we handled it so–like tourists–requesting extra hats, a second shot of malt powder, a slab of bacon on an already greasy burger. When in Rome, Baby.

Making Valentines.
My holiday-lovin’ heart is gettin its hit with lace and scissors and teaching my girl how to properly address an envelope…with stamps and stickers, of course.

Hesitating For Just a Happy Moment Before I tell Lainey She Can’t Strong-arm Her Sister.

The Return to Sacred Ground.

Room 7, the walls of which hold our story. I debated giving it its own post, but it seems fitting the cathartic journey of returning to the room where Nella was born belongs, as it does in real life, amidst the rest of the current that has propelled us forward. It’s been interesting attempting to head back up there, first scheduled for the night before Nella’s birthday and planned to include several girls. However, a full moon delivered a wild labor ward that night, pushing (no pun intended) off our plans until a few days later, and then later, and again, another try. But Room 7 was busy blessing other mamas with their stories until last night, on a whim, I called up and found out indeed, it was waiting for me. Empty but alive. And, suddenly, I had butterflies in my stomach, and I’m not even sure why. It’s just that I feel so progressed from the devastation I felt in that place, and yet I wanted to reconnect with it in a way that would bridge the gap between there and here, then and now, before and after. I knew walking onto the sacred ground between those walls would reignite dormant emotion, and just thinking about it began its stirrings.

Fortunately, two kindred spirits came with me–one that was so very present that night and who remembers things even I don’t and one who wasn’t and wanted to hear the story from the place it started. So it was, Heidi and Nana Kate joined me for my journey to The Birth Place and I, in a moment of ceremonialism, scoured the house thirty seconds before we left, searching for divine tokens from that night. The plastic Sharpie-scrawled champagne cups we used to toast her birth, the same candles that flickered when we welcomed her. I tossed them in my bag and settled for a bottle of Coors Light to bring to fill the cups because we had no champagne, and off we went.

There was pain–the searing beauty of it when we stepped into that place. It was brief but concentrated. Like I could close my eyes and remember it like it was yesterday. Like I was standing in the room as a visitor at the edge of the bed watching my sad old self grimace and cry. I could feel the emotion that was so present that night.

We huddled, the three of us, for a small moment and cried. Hugged it out and patted backs. And then, it left. The pain left the building, and it became the room where we celebrated. Where flowers gathered and friends smiled and girls sat on my bed and told me she was the sweetest baby ever. I remembered the magic of that room very much like Room 10, three doors down, where three and a half years ago I heaved happy sobs when Lainey slipped into our lives. And so we popped the cork–or, in our case, twisted the cap–poured some golden bubbly and toasted to the love that began in that room…in the same cups that toasted that same love just a year ago.

We told Nana Kate all about that night, remembering things we almost forgot and marveling at how small the room seems now. “I swear the room was twice this size,” Heidi said. Because what happened in that room seems too big to fit in that space.

We sat on the bed and told stories last night in Room 7 for forty minutes. And we laughed…a lot. Heidi reenacted my guttural labor sounds and ran back and forth to the door, interpreting the funnier events of that night that deserve their part too. And it was all so very good and healing.

And I left, feeling lighter, renewed and restored by the full-circle revelation that pain not only brings healing, but redemption. I couldn’t help but remember the lyrics my sister wrote on her post announcing Nella’s birth.

Redemption comes in strange places, small spaces
Calling out the best of who we are

And I want to add to the beauty
To tell a better story
I want to shine with the light
That’s burning up inside

This is grace, an invitation to be beautiful ~Sara Groves

And because meaningful ceremonies like returning to birth rooms occur amid the less meaningful ebb and flow of life everyday–and that’s where they belong–I will sandwich the celebration of our defining moment between the rest of this post.

Enjoying the Small Things, Continued:

Her Love-Me Eyes, One Year Later

New Home Stuff.
…makes me happy and provides nice incentive to clean my house.

New Sponsor, Timeless Settings Boutique, features a lovely range of unique home goods.
Loving my new chicken wire planter from them that holds my rosemary plant.

And our beautiful antique-looking tea caddy–tea being my favorite thing to serve to anyone who stops by because strangely, it makes me feel hospitable when the state of our house might suggest differently. Just waiting for someone to step into our wheat-puffed scattered living room so I can serve them a spot of tea, letting them select from this nice little box. Brushing up my British accent to go with it.

A $50 gift certificate to Timeless Settings will be given to a random commenter on this post.

And the Elizabeth St. gift certificate winner is Commenter #207, Kelly Cach (Hi, Kelly!): Oh, so sorry! This hurts my heart to the core…my Gabe is 9 and my Eli is 7. Will be holding them even tighter today. Prayers for your friend and blessings to you today, Kelly

Kelly, you know where to send your info! xoxo

And a big sigh to follow a big post.
Many happy moments to you this weekend.

A Nella goodbye wave to you and you and you.

Enjoying the Small Things (and bad pick-up lines for Life)

December 28, 2010 By Kelle

When I lived up north, I remember every year, post-Christmas, I entered a dreaded funk. Christmas was over, the cold continued, and all the ghost town store aisles of broken candy canes and clearanced winter scents echoed the let-down. I actually quit my college Victoria’s Secret job the day after Christmas one year because I didn’t want to leave my sister’s and couldn’t face the hour long snowy drive to a depressing mall. I just called up the morning I was supposed to work and said “I quit.” This irresponsibilty, of course, led to the explanation that I could never be hired by Victoria’s Secret again, and I think I replied with something like “Yeah, I’m cool with that.” Thankfully, other things worked out. But I still regret the impulsive irresponsibilty. (Sorry, Victoria. I still dig your bras.)

Which brings me to this…

Florida rocks post-Christmas.

It’s like straddling the best of both worlds. One foot still grounded in that homey vibe of quilts and firelogs and mistletoe candles and one bravely stepping into the promise of a new year with sunshine, blue skies and palms unfurled.

The bonus: I still get to wear boots and scarves.

Okay, totally laughing…I just noticed… Dude, my zipper’s undone!

Today is the last day I will bask in my thirty-first year. I am swimming vigoriously these last laps because I hear the crowd roaring, I see the blur of the finish line, and I know this year was one hell of a victory.

Tomorrow I will dance. Tomorrow I will write. Tomorrow I will squeeze tight the goodness this year has brought and reflect on it all.

But today?

Today, I will enjoy the small things.

************************************************************************

SHADOW WAVES

She spots her shadow all the time. Actually sets out searching for it and when she finds it…she waves. And smiles. Cutest thing I’ve ever seen.

************************************************************************

THE DISASTEROUSNESS OF THE GIRLS’ ROOM

Lainey made a new sign for her door and hung it all by herself. I don’t know what it means but I’m pretty sure, by the looks of things, it means “My room looks like hell. Stay out.”

Ever step on an upturned click-clack shoe? It hurts.

************************************************************************

CAMOUFLAGE DOGS

Thankfully, Latte is safe from any lake predators.

It is not unusual for our lake trips to include us screaming for Latte who, we think, ran off. Nine times out of ten, she’s right in front of us. Just hidden with the poodle-fur grass.

**************************************************************************

THIS SONG PLAYING.

(Song not available for photo at time of post)

Love it. Dance, dance, dance.

**************************************************************************

SLEEPING BABY EYELASHES.

Can I get an amen?

**************************************************************************

FUNKY MORNING HAIR.

She has a wild chunk of hair, front and center, that kind of does its own thing, and I totally love it. Even if I have to barrette it down during the day.

***************************************************************************

INVIGORATING SUNSHINE

You know, the kind that stretches through the bite of cold air, warms every puddle of lingering potential within you and possesses you with the thrill for the new year and everything it holds? Yeah, that kind.

We walked to the lake today, me a few steps ahead of the rest of them, her pedaling like mad to reach our strides, and the littlest her kicking, waving, and content to just be.

We fished and lounged and called for the dog who was, come to find out, just rolling in the dead grass a few feet away.

Lainey’s sweater made by my mama; Lainey’s dress made by the talented Kiki. I want everything in her shop, especially this and this and this.

And it was lovely.

**************************************************************************

AS IS HER BUDDING LOVELINESS ON THE BRINK OF ONE

She is changing, growing, beaming, blossoming into more goodness, and we are turning the pages to new chapters that hold more joy.

I find myself laughing a lot these days. Mostly because she can make a hell of a beeline across the tile, around the bend of the laundry room door, to the dog dishes in a New York minute. I’ll hear the ceramic bowl scraping against the tile, run in there, and here she is, just a grinning. Because she knows she’s funny. It kills me in the I-wish-I-could-have-understood-this-happiness-last-January kind of way.

I am feeling all sappy and celebratory and quite in love with Life tonight. In fact, if I bumped into Life at a bar right now, I’m pretty sure I’d have no problem embarrassing myself with bad pick-up lines.

Hey there, Life. The voices in my head told me to come over and talk to you. What time do you have to be back in heaven?

And then Life would say something back, I’d laugh and the two of us would run out the back door into a field of daisies. Cue sunset.
Or something like that.

Dance. Dance. Dance.