I’ve been waking up earlier lately, drawn out of bed by the promise of a short period of solitude before Nella wakes up. I make my coffee and watch the news, the latter usually a regrettable decision, especially lately when mud-slinging politics and devastating stories such as the Aurora tragedy plague the media.

I tend to sway back and forth between periods of international awareness and current event cluelessness based on how busy I am, how tolerant I am to what I read and see and sometimes, how guilty I feel for what I don’t know. Sometimes my role as a thirty-something, family-focused mom challenges me to look far beyond my own little circle and deeply consider the decisions that are being made that affect our country and our world, the stories that are playing out in our community and the headlines that surface on the Internet, trend in Twitter and steal our focus in horrifying scenes on the morning news.

But sometimes that very same role of a thirty-something, family-focused mom is exactly what challenges me to turn it off. To walk away from the TV, to stop reading the headlines and to know that awareness and the promise of a brighter future begins with ourselves and our own families. The media’s overwhelming presence in this current generation allows for biased presentations of how good or bad the world really is. But when I’ve watched and read enough that I feel that “God, what kind of world do we live in?” dissapointment taking over, I know I need to shift gears. The best things happen when we believe in good, when we give people the benefit of the doubt, when we understand that pain and tragedy are indeed part of this world, but that they are overshadowed by the potential of the great amount of good in human kind.

I am so sorry for the families who are hurting in Aurora, Colorado. I hope that more stories of courage arise and the heroes of this event are given far more media coverage than the young man who caused it. I hope we focus not on fear and panic for what could happen but for the possibility of what will happen to our communities and our country when we properly balance our focus on what exists beyond the doors of our home with what we are doing inside them.

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Somewhat fitting, we enjoyed a family day this week. In the middle of the week, for no good reason than we felt we needed it. We chose a new beach, a quiet secluded one at a nearby state park and, for five hours, we enjoyed each others’ company with no distractions. Alright, I Instagrammed.

The tide had washed in earlier and created a shin-deep pool that made for some lovely wading.

And lots of sea life. Cockles and conch shells, two sand dollars and, get this–a sea horse. Not exactly the unicorn, spiny-back, twirly tail kind, but it was definitely of the sea horse family. A little Googling has proven it to be a pipefish.

For the record, we put our sand dollars right back where we find them–in the gulf.

Lainey and Nella are completely different in their sea critter comfort level. Lainey will hesitantly touch a starfish, come within a couple inches of a sand dollar, but she ran screaming when the conch shells surrounding her towel started flipping over and creeping toward her. Nella, on the other hand, can’t get close enough.

Sister almost kissed a crab.

Both satisfy their inquisition level as they see fit, digging sand trenches, venturing into the warm waters of the gulf, flipping twisted shells over and peeking inside for any movement.

And Mama’s just happy to be there, watching my girls write chapters in their Florida childhood books.

Retro Swimsuit, Popina Swimwear

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Friday Photo Dump:

Friday Phone Dump photos are taken on the Instagram iPhone app (free) and dropped into a 12×12 collage using a photo editing software (Photoshop Elements works). I am @etst (enjoying the small things) on Instagram if you care to follow the feed.

And your #enjoyingthesmallthings photos. If you use Instagram and have a photo that makes you happy, share it by using the hashtag #enjoyingthesmallthings. Yours may be chosen to be shared in a Friday post. Want to be reminded of the good and wonderful things people are doing with thier families, inside the doors of their home and beyond? Come visit #enjoyingthesmallthings on Instagram.

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For fun this weekend…what are five things you are tired of and five things you are not tired of?

Tired of…uncomfortable summer heat, Moon Dough mess, the morning news, my dirty iPhone case, e-mail

Not Tired of…Instagram, kind words, fresh veggies, evening baths, Nella’s naughty word (“butt!”)

Happy Weekend…outside the home, inside the home.

I am undoubtedly affected by rain. When it comes in its figurative sense, I say find some yellow rain boots and go kick your heels in it. Literally, however, it makes me want to take a nap. And I’ve lost count of how many consecutive afternoons it’s rained now. Come 3:00, ominous clouds cluster overhead and shadow our home with complete idleness. In the last few weeks, I’ve started a couple essays, a home project, a closet overhaul, two to-do lists and a new calendar system for activities, but they all remain unfinished thanks to the weather. Any other time I would feel unsettled, but gray afternoons tend to be so forgiving of procrastination.

In our idleness this weekend, we enjoyed:

Saturday Morning Pancakes. Lainey’s kitchen independence has taken a leap. She can measure, stir and pour with no help. I also found out this weekend that she can change Nella’s diaper, take off her pajamas, redress her in a completely new outfit and do her hair in pigtails, all by herself. And Nella lets her.

The Return to Crochet. It seems very fitting with the rain. And I like the way my brain thinks–or doesn’t–while I’m lost in counting stiches.

Quiet Time. It’s like they just know. As if cued by the rain, the girls run off to find quiet things to do. Crafting and coloring, dolls and play kitchen. Or cutting up strips of paper and taping 100 of them to various hidden locations in the house. It happened.

Kitchen Help. My least favorite job happens to be Nella’s favorite–emptying the silverware basket in the dish washer. She passes utensils (sans knives, of course) one by one, waiting for us to say “thank you.”

Memory. It’s not that I let her win. It’s that age changes the way you play this game so much, I can’t compete anymore. She forgets nothing and doesn’t even try to hide her sneaky little “I’m winning” smile as she stacks match after match while I flip over the same cards every time. “You can have one of my matches,” she usually finally offers. I remember saying the same thing to my mom when we played this game almost every afternoon while my brother and sister were at school. At least I remember that.

Rainy Crafts. With a coupon, we scored this soft doll for under $5. I sewed on some yarn hair and Lainey painted her a face this afternoon. Her name is Kate. She has some bald spots. And a wonky right eye. But she fits most of our doll clothes, and Lainey loves that she “made her.”

Light Search. Weary of gray, I’ve been chasing good light this week. Opening blinds, pulling back curtains, heading outside anytime the sun sneaks a sliver.

I need light.

Endcap Dance Parties. We can’t pass a CD song sampler on an endcap in any store without Lainey stopping to push every. single. button. We have to dance to each song and only Lainey can change the buttons. Ocean Calm, Backyard Barbecue, Zen Spa, Celtic Favorites. I know them all now.

Puppets. Nella’s diggin’ puppets lately. This one was Lainey’s when she was little, and Brett does a mean puppet show with it–funny voices, dancing, believable movements that make it seem totally alive. I can’t compete, so I just cover his eyes and say “Boo.” And then the kids look at me blankly, like “not funny, try again.”

I will finish the essays soon. I will complete my home projects, finish my closet, unravel some deeper thoughts and put them into words soon. But right now, it’s raining. And unfinished seems a perfectly good place to be.

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Welcome back to a past favorite sponsor, SweetSeat. After searching to find a high-quality, long-lasting, small-footprint booster chair to replace their clunky high chair, the family behind SweetSeat chairs decided to make their own. Each SweetSeat is handcrafted on the family’s San Antonio farm with help from their three small sons. It’s a perfect space saver once your child is old enough to sit at the table (Nella does just fine), and it’s easy to clean. We love that our SweetSeat is portable (we’ve taken it to friends’ houses, restaurants, the beach) and allows the girls a comfortable close spot at the family table.

Check out the selection of gorgeous prints:

Use Code KELLE for 10% off your SweetSeat order.

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What are you enjoying?

In planning my wedding seven years ago, there was a priority list for expenses. Photography was more important than flowers. Flowers were more important than cake. Cake was more important than invitations. And what the DJ was playing was damn near critical because dancing was it. It’s what I dreamed about even more than walking down the aisle. I thought about the dance floor and how happy we’d be and how many people we loved would be joining us and shedding their sport coats and high heels to get that much closer to feeling it. That high-on-life exhilaration that comes from shaking a hip, throwing a hand up, swinging your head back and accepting that yes, you might look ridiculous, but it doesn’t matter. You’re dancing.

My DJ wasn’t fantastic. In fact, I made him promise he wouldn’t play any cheesy songs, and somewhere between “Love Shack” and “I Will Survive,” I about tripped when I heard the big band introduction to “The Hokey Pokey.” Yes, The Hokey Pokey. Cued by my disgusted expression, Brett ran to ask me if I wanted him to make him stop, but you don’t stop a DJ in the middle of the song, especially at a wedding. So, we made the best of it–made a big roller rink circle and stuck our left elbows in and our whole selves out and, you know what? It was a blast. My sweet grandma, in her white hair and her pearls and her Rockport pumps–she laughed. She laughed when she put her head in and her backside out and shook it all about, and by the time “The Hokey Pokey” ripped into this fabulous Beegees remix, I didn’t care about anything. We were dancing.

My favorite moment from that day is still clear. Despite failing on “The Hokey Pokey,” our DJ came through on one song I included on our list. It was a family thing–a song we had played at parties and dinners that entire week preparing for the wedding, and the very first notes were a Cryderman siren’s call. We didn’t know what the words meant, but when the speakers announced O-zone’s “Numa Numa” with the first “Ma-ia hii, Ma-ia huu, Ma-ia hoo, Ma-ia haha,” chairs tipped over and bodies ran to dance. Cousins and nieces and nephews, friends and family–hands in the air, cheering and screaming, “This is our song” so evident by our display that even the DJ noted “Whoa, must be a family anthem.” We gave it everything we had. I think my brother even whipped out some break dancing. And I will never forget that song, that moment, that feeling of letting go and being present with the people I loved in that moment.

Tuesday night, I joined a couple of friends at a local bar that has designated Tuesday nights as special needs dance night. I wasn’t sure what to expect, and so I watched as people arrived–some I recognized from the Valentine’s Dance–and made small talk, asked questions, waited for the music to start. And when it did, so did the party. There’s something about dancing that immediately strips us all of what makes us different. With music and movement, bright lights that spin and flash colors on the wall, hands that clap and raise the roof together–we’re all just people who come to celebrate, who come to move. We call out names and clap as each person brings their game to the center of the floor. “Go Janice!” we holler. “It’s your birthday!” And we smile when Janice shakes her groove thang all the way down to the floor and rises, laughing. She smiles and says “Thank you.” We do the Cupid Shuffle, side by side. And I feel not only a surge of happiness because–why yes, we’re dancing–but I feel settled in to another level of healing. Because I can’t deny the fact that my love for Nella is partly what brings me here.

We dance. It’s a universal language, one I speak fluently and enforce in our home. My kids are bilingual, you know. They speak English and Dance.

If you live in the Naples area, come out to Fred’s (on Immokalee Road in the Sam’s plaza) on Tuesday nights at 6:30. It’s kid friendly and alive with dance. If you know of anyone with special needs in the area, invite them to come. I’d love to see this grow. And I didn’t hear “The Hokey Pokey” one time.

Enjoy a little Dancin’ with Dot session:

dance from ETST on Vimeo.

Song: “I’ll Fly With You” by Gigi D’Agostino

And for those who’ve asked about making the videos, I posted a quick instructional video on YouTube on how to compile photos, video clips and music using free software to make a video like ours.

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happy day.