Thankfully for me, Lainey’s activity of choice lately has been coloring. I like coloring–so much that often, after a while, she runs off to find something else to do and I am left coloring, happily, while laundry waits and kids make messes. I color like it’s my job–shading, highlighting, scribbling flecks of contrasting color into Barbie’s hair or deliberating much too long over Wild Raspberry or Hot Magenta for the stripes in Strawberry Shortcake’s shirt. I am selective in my crayon choice and have been known to choose colors based on their names alone. You would understand this if you’re familiar with Crayola’s Box ‘o 96, featuring Macaroni n’ Cheese, a warm soft orange, or Wild Blue Yonder, a murky mountainous blue.

I’ve also been known to throw out a perfectly good picture and start over if I’ve colored outside the lines or, God forbid, misjudged the intensity of Jungle Green (which, for the record, is far too vibrant for an eye color choice). So it has been a good parenting exercise for me to encourage the freedom of expression that’s so beautifully demonstrated by Lainey when she colors–sometimes out of the lines, sometimes all one color, but every time, her own style. And while I’m carefully gliding my yellow crayon (Laser Lemon, to be precise) along a flower petal to add depth and she’s decided Shamrock is a nice choice for Bert ‘n Ernie’s faces, I’ve come to the conclusion that not only is it okay, but it’s pretty cool that my girl does her own thing and stands by it. There are no rules to creativity.

But we do draw the line on where you choose to color (although a purple smiley face scribbled on the inside of the girls’ closet door begs to differ).

Nella breaks the rules.

Weekending…
My shattered phone has been replaced but before I synced my contacts, I enjoyed a calm weekend with a quiet phone–which overlapped to a vacant computer and a mama caved-in. Heidi calls it “the cave”–the secret place we retreat to when we’re subconsciously overwhelmed or too busy. It usually involves–without even intention–ignoring the phone, letting e-mails stack up and hibernating to the inner depths of our homes where we bake, read books or, in my case, color. Retreating to the cave is a necessary occurance for me–a replenishing inverse from the go-and-do-and-see times. I like both ends of the spectrum–the thrill of adventure and showing my girls new things as well as the comfort and convenience of routine and feeling settled.

Holidays make me feel settled, and traditions like dyeing eggs connect me to all the puddles of nostalgic happiness that dwell so fondly in my memory and fuel me to recreate them for my own family. So we did. We colored eggs this weekend.

I love that there is no reason behind this tradition. Or rather there is, but when I Googled the historical explanation, it didn’t excite me the same way that “because it’s fun” did. And I’m totally cool with doing elaborate things with my kids for no reason at all.

There is something strangely thrilling about dunking these pure and delicate little ovoids (the proper name, I learned) into cups of color and waiting while they transform. Or watching as Lainey leans over to carefully check their color progression, tipping them just above the color line with her spoon and, like a stylist refolding the foil after inspecting unfinished highlights, she says “not quite yet” and slowly drops the egg back down.

Nella, on the other hand, took every egg I handed her and threw it which, of course, thrilled her sister.

We had to remove her from the situation as Lainey didn’t appreciate the way she handled the eggs.

Just as in coloring, I held back my dyeing critique and watched, cringing, as Lainey did it her own way–plopping two eggs into one cup, dipping them quickly from one hue to another, mixing dissonant colors, cracking shells and yet completely satisfied with her results.

Turns out, the splotchiness adds to the beauty of her vibrant little egg art.

The weekend would not have been complete without the following bit of unearthly loveliness. I actually have to stop and gather my thoughts for a moment because it is quite possible words will not do justice the deliciousness that is–there needs to be some kind of drumroll here–Haagen Dazs Five Lemon (stop, applaud, bow–it’s worthy). Add this to your Bag of Tricks, fo sho.

My sister’s been telling me about it for a long time and I finally gave in and bought some while I browsed the grocery store waiting for Austyn and his friend to pick out a movie at the neighboring Blockbuster this weekend. You see that little hump of ice cream left in that picture? That’s what’s left after I used my finger as a spoon in the Publix parking lot. Only five ingredients–milk, sugar, eggs, cream and lemon–but more than five non-repeatable exclamations that followed my first bite. And I’m sure it’s like the coolest thing for a sixteen-year-old to have his friend along on the ride where his stepmom is driving twenty under the speed limit because she’s balancing navigating a steering wheel with shoveling ice cream with her finger.

Finally, our “caving it” weekend was completed with pruned toes.

Like life, we swam both ends of the spectrum. The go-and-do-and-see of adventurous jumps and loud splashes…

…and the calm repose of tranquil floats and quiet wading.

Our new $10 kiddie pool makes water play much more fun and accessible for Nella.

And it’s only April. It’s just beginning.

Looking forward to some upcoming traveling, out of the cave, and plenty more retreats at home, in the cave, where we belong.

Congratulations to the winner of the $40 gift certificate from The Meg Shop:
Comment #859, Kim: time. one of the things in my bag of tricks (for myself). observantly spent time. to find out what it is i need. often a couple of minutes is enough. take a breather, have a coffee/tea/wine and enjoy. simple as that. PS: that b/w pic of nella in her pjs has got to be one of the cutest ones ever! what a beauty.

Kim, please e-mail your contact info to [email protected], and you’ll soon be richer in the jewelry department.

Your “Bag of Tricks” were insightful, funny, and enjoyable to read. Thank you for sharing!

The full moon may symbolize crazy, hectic, frantic…

Left, Saturday night; Right, Sunday night

…but our weekend was just what we ordered: over easy

My girl and her kite-tail flowing hair.

Happy Monday.

Happy LOVE Day.

In keeping with my holiday freak flag flyin’ schedule, I thought I should let you know today has it unfurled and wildly flapping.

Evidence A: the excuse to bust out the lace tights I’ve been dying to wear.

Verdict is I like them very much.

Evidence B:

Our Valentine’s Day sugar cookie buzz tradition. Just how much sugar can one pile onto an already sugar-filled cookie? Lainey is determined to find out.

Evidence C:

We’re going out tonight. On a real date. Where we dress up and have a babysitter (okay, my dad, but still). And because this doesn’t happen very often, I enjoy the prolonged process of getting ready that begins with a long bath with the girls and, after a trio of home pedicures, a few cups of hot tea and letting Lainey pick out my lip gloss, it ends with reconnecting with a pair of teetering heels from back in the day when I wore teetering heels almost every day.

Evidence D. Well, actually this has nothing to do with Valentine’s Day or love unless you count the fact that I love weekend outings which is really stretching it, so let’s just scratch the whole evidence thing and call this second part of the post “We Went to the Zoo Yesterday.”

We Went to the Zoo Yesterday.

And being that I’d love to start the getting ready ritual early for tonight, I’m making this quick.

My dad holds Nella like a sack of flour. It freaks me out, but she loves it and he loves that it freaks me out.

It was grand.

Happy Love Day!

Our house looks like a bomb hit it. Like if someone rang our doorbell right now, I’d shout for everyone to freeze and lay down and pretend we’re not home.

But here I am, amidst wrapping paper and boxes and quilts from abandoned forts strewn on the floor, cupping my favorite gift–a hand-painted pottery mug from my girl–and I am so entirely fulfilled.

The winds have shifted, drawing the northern chill down to our warm town, and I am looking forward to the coming days of home and family and possibly cleaning up the mess.

But, in this place right now, after staying up ’til 2:30 Christmas Eve to braid the bread that ended up rising out of control while we slept…

…after finishing a wrapping ceremony that began with perfectly cut paper, satin ribbon bows and caligraphy tags and ended with jagged edges, half-ass taping and some crappy labels with “To” and “From” sloppily scribbled across the top…

…after all the work and far-fetched imagination that goes into this thing, it is so entirely worth it.

We celebrate birthdays for everyone in our home. We make big deals over each year in their lives and blow out candles, eat cake and make them feel like superstars for evolving into more fabulousness each year. And I guess Christmas for us is kind of a birthday for our family. Not to take the Christ out of Christmas–Believe me, I know what it’s about and have enough “Oh, Holy Night”s and manger reenactments from over the years to prove it.

But it seems fitting for all the effort of making moments on this day that we celebrate this last year together and feel like superstars for evolving into more fabulousness. We’ve come a long way, Baby.

Left: Christmas Eve night, 2009; Right: Christmas Eve night, 2010.

Our family celebration this year seemed to take all those feelings I have about this past year and did them right.

A nice chunk of our village showed up the night before Christmas Eve for our fourth annual Hot Cocoa Wagon Walk. What’s a Hot Cocoa Wagon Walk, you ask? You decorate a wagon, you make cocoa, you hoist a boombox blaring Burl Ives on your shoulder, and you walk through the neighborhood, knocking on doors passing out the goodness of hot drinks and off-key renditions of songs no one knows the words to.

Oh, and you dance. In the streets.

That’s Nana Kate, skippin’ a little jig.

For lacking family this year, we totally made up for it in loving the village of good souls on our street. I hate calling them “neighbors” because that’s trite and anything but what they are. They are our friends and our family, and you wouldn’t have known the difference Christmas Eve when the girls blended inconspicuously with Nana Kate’s grandkids.

We’ve always gone to the candlelight service at a church a few miles away for Christmas Eve but found out a few hours before we were going to head out, there was no service this year. So, we made one up. And it was even better. Lainey made up songs and forced us to sing them and yelled at us when we got the words wrong. My favorite went something like “Happy Christmas everyone loves Santa merry jingle bells my family I love you.”

Brett made a runway this year for the reindeer. A nice twinkly light guide for their hooves (hooves…that sounds funny. Hooves? Hoofs? Who makes these words up anyway?), and Lainey filled it in with carrots and pre-made reindeer food.

I gained new smile wrinkles that night. And had another insane moment where these memory receptors are firing like crazy in my brain, and I’m very well aware that I will forever remember this exact moment. The way their polka dot jammies hug their bodies, the intent look on Lainey’s face as she lines up the carrots just right, the way Brett is nonchalantly talking with the neighbor but by the way he’s nodding and smiling I can tell he’s only half-listening because he’s more consumed with keeping Nella’s hat on her ears and making sure she’s cradled properly in his arms.

And after putting kids to sleep and several more hours of preparations, I woke up the next morning to hums and coos and rolled over to see two soulful eyes in the dark and a little “Hi, Mom” face. It was an appropriate greeting for my first “Merry Christmas” of the day.

The rest followed suit.

Checking out the reindeer proof and snowy hoof prints.

Remember this fashion plate toy? I had one as a kid and didn’t know they still made them. Lainey loves it.

And Lainey’s gift from Santa was a hit.

…and not just for Lainey either.

If you haven’t noticed, I’m a sentimentalist. I know not everyone likes Christmas, and it can be a painful time for those who have experienced hurt and have difficulty defining the distinction between reality and idealism and all the blur in between. But the pain of life always makes the good stand out even more…like water rising above the oil.

We’ve cried this year. We’ve complained and cursed and cleaned up messes, just like everyone else. There are scuffs on our walls and bruises on our heart. But, in the end, there is good. And we know when to celebrate, and celebrate we do.

So, last night as neighbors gathered for a fireworks show (thank you, Brekke) and I watched the interactions of every one of my blessed family members, I stopped the inner dialogue of defining that fine line of reality and idealism, and I settled into the moment. Because what was happening in our driveway was very real indeed. And it was good.

This was my very favorite Christmas yet. Not because it was perfect, but because it was real and good and comfortable.

And all the efforts we put into this grand celebration…it was worth it. Every bit of it. Merry Day-after Christmas.

Celebrating our new sponsor, MeYou Health. I’ve talked about them HERE with their daily challenge, and it’s a perfect time with New Year’s resolutions to join. Basically, it’s a fun, easy way to be more mindful of a healthy lifestyle, and you can sign up through Facebook. Costs you nothing.

Hoping everyone had a meaningful holiday, and wishing you more happy moments this week.