Enjoying the Small Things

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Favorite Day.

September 3, 2011 By Kelle

It’s rained for about six days straight now. Not all day, but if we’re playing by “Majority Rules,” then it’s clearly a victory for Gray Skies, with Blue and Sunny bowing out respectfully. Until this morning. Finally.

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I love home days. I like sitting cross-legged on the carpet in Lainey’s room and watching her mold Moon Dough into snakes and pancakes, or planning all day to make something fabulous in the kitchen even if I never do. I like knowing we have no business outside the walls of our house that calls us to get up and go, and yet today I needed out. I had to breathe air that hadn’t been circulating in our house for six gray days–so much a trip to the bank even sounded adventurous. I had no idea where we were going, but I braided Lainey’s hair, slipped ruffle socks and silver shoes over Nella’s bare feet and buckled them (the girls, not the feet) into their car seats–ready for something. Brett called me on my way out. “Where are you off to?” …and I laughed as I drove: “I have no idea where I’m going, but we’re going somewhere.”

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And I think that pretty much sums up everything. Parenting, living, moving forward, embracing change, making something good of what you’ve been given.

I have no idea where I’m going, but I’m going somewhere.

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We drove. Toward the beach, but then turned South on 41 and kept driving. Past big banks with mirrored windows and bus stops where trolleys picked up passengers on their way to somewhere too. I turned up the volume and Brett’s Jimmy Buffet CD picked up where it left off. I told Lainey we were going on an adventure and I made a mental note of just how much my senses were on fire when I heard Nella laughing that can’t-catch-her-breath giggle when Lainey made faces at her.

For some reason, today was one of my favorite adventures I’ve ever had with my girls. As my Holland friends would say…today was my favorite day.

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I wanted to be back by three because I had work to do, but we didn’t roll in the driveway until almost 7 tonight, and I didn’t care.

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Sometimes, when you don’t know where you’re going–and you embrace the freedom in that very fact–you enjoy the journey so much more. Like an unplanned road trip with lots of stops.

First stop: Cambier Park, the furthest park from our house but worth the little drive for its open sanctuary of sitting space that’s covered with dried fallen leaves all year round and encircled by enchanted-looking trees, perfect for climbing.

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We found hearts everywhere. In fallen leaves.

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Floating in the sky.

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And thousands of them, suspended in a green canopy overhead.

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She gave me one to keep forever.

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You bet your sweet ass, I will.

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We climbed empty bleachers at the baseball field and smiled when we realized we were in the perfect spot when it started to rain, protected by a tin roof that echoed with every ping ping ping of raindrops.

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Sister can climb like a Mutha.



Post-rain, Lainey danced for an audience of two in the outdoor auditorium.

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Followed by snacks downtown.

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And then my favorite. The encore.

We turned out of the park and, driving nowhere once more, I turned right. I turned right instead of left and, as Frost would say…that has made all the difference.

Two stop signs and a dead end–a dead end into a quiet cul de sac hugged by nothing but blue skies, a sea of glass, and two rows of palm trees standing erect at the entrance to the beach, like a welcoming red carpet.

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Oh, we parked that car alright. We had nothing–no towels, no beach blanket, no stroller, no hats. We dug through the back seat and I, for once, was thankful I managed to maintain a state of shambles in my car. Lainey found a can of sunscreen, a t-shirt, a thin receiving blanket and a Dora sun visor.

We walked through the rows of palm trees, and I half expected them to clap–to call out our names as we busted moves down the soul train aisle and into the promised land and reason we live here.

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We smoothed the edges of our tiny thin receiving blanket on to the sand and walked the shore towards the pier. It was one of the most beautiful beach days I’ve ever experienced in my eight years here.

And then we did it. I’ve been wanting to do it ever since I saw the life-loving grandma wringing her shorts on the beach months ago.

“Hey Lainey, you wanna go swimming?” I asked with a cunning smile.

“But we don’t have any bathing suits.” She has to answer this way because Brett is her dad, and she follows in his responsible footsteps.

“Let’s go in our clothes.” I delivered my solution with the same excitement I’ll use someday when I tell her “Let’s play hooky from school today.” She smiled back, and I secured Nella closely to my hip, took Lainey’s hand and the three of us ran with wild smiles into the gulf.

Yes, I’m sentimental. I might describe my girls’ births as if heaven done swallowed me up toward the glory of God and a sunset at Isle of Capri as a heart-stopping celebration. I’ll own my sugar, and I’ll eat it smiling. But let me tell you, that moment today? Sentimental or not–clinging a girl on each hip, the gulf skimming our shoulders, clothes drenched in sea water and looking out at the bluest freaking sky I’ve ever seen?

Today was my favorite f#$@ing day.

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We reemerged from the water, dripping, just long enough to walk up to a man, hand him my camera and say “I’ve lived here for eight years and it’s about time we do this. Can you please take a picture?”

He took three.

We stayed another hour. Chasing seagulls, writing our names with beach pens, counting shells. I sat half-submerged in shallow water, nursing a baby, watching my big girl, and I knew at that moment I wouldn’t forget the day we swam in the ocean, fully dressed.

Sometimes, it takes not knowing where you’re going to arrive someplace fabulous. And whenever I am sure I’m lost, I will keep driving. I will look to the left and to the right as I drive, taking in the sights as I go. And I will know that somewhere not far ahead, there’s a beach. There’s a beach where I can run so fast, I don’t even have to stop to change my clothes.



Today is my favorite day.

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Friday Photo Dump:

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I am excited to introduce our new sponsor for multiple reasons. I am fascinated with the smart, new companies that are emerging that serve dual purposes–creating beautiful, wearable products while providing employment opportunities and necessities for underprivileged people. Noonday Collection is one of those companies, and Independent Consultant Lori Boynton is pairing with Enjoying the Small Things in sponsorship this month with beautiful accessories created by artisans around the world. Each piece comes with a story behind it, and by buying Noonday Collection accessories, you are helping support artists trying to make a living not only in the USA but in Ecuador, Peru, India, Uganda, and many more.

The Inca Steps necklace comes in teal, bone and coral and was handcrafted from nuts of the tagua palm.

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One commenter will be randomly selected from this post to receive a free Inca Steps necklace, in bone or teal, courtesy of Lori Boynton’s Noonday Collection store

Winner will be announced in Monday’s post.

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Until then, there’s a holiday weekend. Three favorite days. I don’t know where we’re going, but I know we’ll end up somewhere good.

Happy Weekend. Happy Labor Day. Happy Favorite Day.

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Filed Under: Favorites, Our Everyday, Our Florida Home, Photo Dump 678 Comments

The Gun Show

August 19, 2011 By Kelle

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The photo trumped words for way to begin a Friday post.

Just when I’m dropping terms like psychological pre-programming, as if poor Florida couldn’t live up to my old Midwest’s performance during the summer/fall shift, Florida got all pissed off. “I’ll show you,” she said. “You wanna compare me with Michigan? Fine. I’ll have the last word.”

And then she did. Florida, with her kaleidoscope skies and warm salty waters, had the last word.

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She doesn’t like to be challenged, that Florida. She’ll pull out the big guns.

Bam.

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Bam.

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Welcome to the gun show.

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Last minute trips to the beach are the best. When you’re tired and the number of tile squares covered in toys and melted popsicle puddles outnumbers the clean ones. When there’s nothing to make for dinner, so an attractive alternative is to ditch. Text a beach all-call, burn rubber out of the driveway and head out from under the cover of gray clouds toward the open air of Florida’s pride and joy–her welcoming coast. She has 1,350 miles of it to share.

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And she has no problem showing off.

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The Voyage of the Sea Turtle: Every time she made it to the water line, I’d run to rescue her from the drop off, pulling her waaaaaay back to our blanket. But she’d start again, with the determination of a baby sea turtle making his greatest life journey. Eyes on the prize, legs a shovelin’. She made this journey maybe thirty times and never tired.



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Lainey’s been mastering the art of the post-bathing turban towel for about a year now. That last twist is hard, and it always fell but she’s four now and she has it down. Welcome to womanhood, sister.

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I like to think that a trip to the beach is like drinking kale shakes for breakfast or getting one of those foil-wrap sweat cleansings. The combination of salt and sand, sky and sea–it’s immune-boosting, of this I am sure.

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We talked about nothing much. Traced shapes in the sand with our fingers. Filled holes with buckets of water and watched as puddles slowly dissolved into dense, wet sand. We waded in the shore, up to our shins, and then ran back to the blanket, kicking sand so it glued to our skin like a sugared donut. I swept small shells out of Nella’s mouth, chased her crab crawl down to the water’s edge, and floated with the big girl because she was brave and wanted to go far enough where her feet didn’t touch the bottom.

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My friend Andrea had one request. After the sun slipped into the horizon, after the post show of layered scarlet clouds, right as I turned to shake blankets and gather lost pails and shovels, she asked, “Can we pack up and then sit and stay until it’s dark?” Which I took to mean “Can we extend this happy hour to a full-course dinner of buttered crab legs?” To which the answer is always yes. Hell yes.

So we stayed. We made seats for the kids from coolers and upside-down buckets and, in the black calm of that quiet beach, we told them a story about a secret party that happens late at night where the beach comes alive and crazy seagulls dance a jig. Thanks to Andrea, the latter part was acted out and now I’ll never look at a seagull the same again.

Buttered crab legs are best followed by ice cream. Also known as, I can’t let a good party end. So, well past the girls’ bedtime, our evening had an encore at the old DQ down town.

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It was the epitome of a hot summer night.

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The best way to do DQ with a baby is to go for it. Bring a pack of Wet Ones and let them live their one wild and precious life in a big sticky mess.

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So, yes I may yearn for imaginary season shifts next month, but deep in my bones an appreciation for balmy air laden with sea salt has grown. Where 1,350 miles of coastline promise warm nights, bare feet, and Dairy Queens that stay open all year long.

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Friday Photo Dump:

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Winner of the Mountain Aven Baby $25 gift certificate: Comment #233 (Yay Melina!)

Melina: Hi kelle! This post makes me want to clean my house, take my dogs on a big park adventure, and arrange a cool BBQ on the beach with my friends. So I’m going to go do those things. Thank you!!! Xoxox Melina

Melina happens to be an excellent writer whose blog I’ve enjoyed for a while.

Melina, send me your contact info to kellehampton@comcast.net and you can pick out a gift for someone you love.



*****

Also, last chance to use Code KELLE10 for 10% off handmade natural body products at Heal My Sole.

Happy Weekending!

Bam. Gun show, baby.

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Filed Under: Our Florida Home, Photo Dump 141 Comments

Fire and Water

August 18, 2011 By Kelle

Can I just say I’m loving this Hallmark gig? I’ve read every single comment you’ve left. There are some great stories out there, and I am inspired. Thank you for sharing.

My mom says she has this dream every once in a while. She dreams that we’re little again, and she’s back in the days of rocking us, reading stories, holding our hands as we walk across streets to parks and picnics and little adventures. She says that when she wakes up, for one second she thinks we’re still little and in her house, and that when she realizes we’re not, there is a moment of heartache–this paralyzing reminder that those days are gone, and we have moved on.

I think about this a lot.

I know my mom is happy–that she has supported our independence and explorations away from home. I know that I will be happy, supporting their independence and explorations from home. But I also know that what I have right now–two little people who comfortably remain in the security of this sliver of time where they are ours–is fleeting. During adventures like yesterday where one is slung to my hip and one is holding my hand, guiding me toward where she wants to go, and little friends and friends’ mamas are circled around us, I think to myself, “I’m going to miss this.”

As we grow, we will each stretch toward new independence–the girls toward their interests, their friends, their dreams and myself toward–well, my interests, my friends, my dreams. It will be good. We will still be intimately connected in new and exciting ways…but I know I’m still going to miss this.

So, yesterday morning I shoveled bananas into Nella’s mouth a little more quickly and swigged my coffee in all of three swallows to get out the door on time to make our early appointment with friends. It was a five alarm fire.

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I have this friend who is great at making things happen. Interesting playdates beyond park and other park and park two streets over from other park. She’s all “I’ll arrange a fire station tour or call a local horse farm or set up a ceramics session in my friends’ garage” and I’m all “Sister, you are the coolest.”

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Today was fire station day.

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And when you have eight little kids topped with chief hats propped up on the shiny front of a fire truck, let me tell you, the scene on the other side is a little crazy. A lot of crouching and clicking and “Look here!” and “Nella, Nella, Nella!” and moms’ butts up in the air as we contort our bodies to get a different angle. And hot firemen are laughing through all of it–this lovely crowd of photo-snapping mamas who are well aware this sliver of time while they are ours is fleeting.

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Nella drove the truck.

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But gave up her seat for the real chief who was kind and patient and so fantastic with our kids. He took us for a ride with sirens and all.

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Consequently, Lainey’s been mimicking the sounds of a fire truck around the house. It’s really great.

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Thank you, Rebecca, for arranging fun that extends beyond the park.

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Which isn’t to say we don’t still love our parks. Other park delivered yesterday too. Because something had to put out our fire, and “the powk with the spwinkwers” did the trick.

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August in Florida is synonomous with balmy and sticky or, for some, heat stroke and short-of-breath. We need our sprinklers and pools and popsicles.

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While September doesn’t exactly relieve us of the heat, I am looking forward to the psychological shift for me, the Midwest pre-programming that allows me to believe it’s crisper, cooler and ripe weather for Fall traditions. Joann’s has their scarecrows and wheat wreaths out now. I’m just sayin’.

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Until then, I’ll savor the sliver while they are little and mine.

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*****

A big happy “Welcome Back” to sponsor Mountain Aven Baby who has exactly what I’m looking for in apparel for my kids: funky fabrics (London and NYC maps, owls, sushi, and pages more!) great colors, wearable designs and lots of fun pieces Lainey pulls out of her closet and begs to wear on her own. The store is chocked full, and clicking through their designs is fun whether you buy or not. A little buying incentive: Use Code ENJOY10 for 10% off your order.

Lainey’s skirt: New Spring Twirl Skirt, Mountain Aven tote bag too!

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One commenter will be randomly selected from this post to win a $25 gift certificate to Mountain Aven Baby. School’s back in session for many of you, and routines are shifting as the calendar slowly moves toward fall. What do you love most about this time of year–the summer/fall transition?

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Happy Day.

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Filed Under: Our Florida Home 483 Comments

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