I just walked Nella to sleep under a cloudless starry sky. I wore a sweater, socks and warm closed-toe shoes. She was hugged by fleece pajamas and our favorite quilt, its tattered corner pulled around her head like a hood.

“Cover her ears or get a hat,” Brett advised before I slipped out the door. He likes to advise–it’s what he does, and tonight I smiled. It’s not often we get to do that–talk about bundling babies or covering little heads.

She fell asleep fast, what with the fact that I gripped her tightly, wrapped her securely–she didn’t have a choice. But it was lovely nevertheless. Cold air and the thick crescent moon glowing, like an open smile. As her weight fell a little heavier, I slowed my pace and absorbed the moment. A cold Florida night, a crisp clear sky, the distant blinking lights of a plane, skipping across the stars of Orion’s belt…and my girl. My girl, almost two, her innocence and perfection and independence and neediness all in one, pressed against my middle where she grew not too long ago.

And now Pedro the Lion is singing about Peace on Earth and Good Will to Men, and I am a little bit in heaven even though I broke an entire carton of eggs (minus one) tonight and Nella dumped a bottle of red glitter onto my office rug.

The girls and I took a last-minute trip to the beach last night. I love a good Florida winter night beach trip.

The wind was wild, stirring up so much sea salt that we coughed and cleared our throats the entire stay. Our beaches are quiet when it’s cold, calling only the bold, the truly dedicated sunset watchers. They know the secret–that the beach is more mysterious, more beautiful, more sacred when it’s cold and vacant. We watched as a small mix of tourists and locals walked along the edge of the tide, huddled in sweatshirts, stopping for pictures right when the sun kissed the horizon. I wanted to walk far; Lainey wanted to sit and dig in the sand. So, sit and dig in the sand, we did.

And the sea turtle once again made her voyage to the sea. Because that’s what sea turtles do.

The gulf was alive with waves bigger than I’ve seen in a long time. They crashed impressively, their pools gliding far up the beach where they washed away shells and footprints and teased my girls with their encore of white foam, like carwash soap.

‘

I miss the snow. I miss mittens, the crunch of boots to packed powder, the way breath spins into white whispy clouds when it touches cold air. I miss electric blankets and the contrast of feet-in-warm-covers with feet-on-cold-floors. I miss that feeling in December when home is a haven, a safe and warm retreat from cold and dark and daunting.

There is an in-between though–the gray area of a little bit cold, a little bit warm, a little bit of a haven and yet a bit daunting at the same time. We find the in-between at the beach, on a Florida winter night.

My favorite face of hers, ever.

Kissing is so in right now at our house.

There’s a whole lot of puckering going on. Mama likey.

‘
This picture? Literally causes heart pain. Like it hurts a little bit.

Beach trips must be followed by beach store trips. You know, for sherbet push-ups and white cheddar popcorn.

Nella: Hey Lainey, you like sea food? Lainey: That’s disgusting.

We left before the sun set which, yes, is like slipping out of a theater right before the sensational final act. But it was cold and we only have so many times we can use that excuse here. So we enjoy it while it lasts.

A very gifted sponsor joins us this month with his captivating musical talents. Chris Schuette of Indiebear Music composes music for film, commercials, websites and other applications. I have always loved clean and simple piano compositions, and his CD is a beautiful compilation of musical talent–perfect for a dinner party or easy listening.

Chris and his wife are raising a beautiful little girl, Isla, who is hearing impaired. Check out his story, like him on Facebook or enjoy his music with a CD or an Itunes Download.

Ten commenters on this post will be randomly selected to win a free CD, All You Know by Chris Schuette. Winners announced in Friday’s post.

A smile for you.

I’ll be back Thursday for my last Hallmark sponsored post. It will be oozing with Christmas spirit.

Good night!

Today began with the sound of water spilling from our washer. It puddled into a small lake in our laundry room and eventually trickled a tributary path right out onto the garage floor. The seal pulled loose from the washer door, most likely because I closed a sleeve or maybe a pant leg in it before letting it whirl. Blame is important in these situations, you know, and yet I’m still the victor because…hello, I was doing laundry–a feat always worthy of applause in this home.

Lemons squeeze nicely into lemonade when you figure it was a great opportunity to clean out the lint balls/bottle caps/lone socks under the washer. Plus, Brett fixed the door.

But then inconvenience struck again. After planning all day for the big annual first snow festival on Third Street, we drove twenty minutes to find our little downtown suddenly engulfed in a torrential downpour–the first rain we’ve seen in weeks. I had a wagon crammed in my backseat–a wagon we spent a freaking half hour this afternoon decorating with garland and twinkly lights and these jingle bells that took six layers of duct tape to get them to stay put. And my kids were festive–like elf kind of festive. We were supposed to get Santa and live nativity tonight and we ended up hydroplaning into an Olive Garden where we waited 45 minutes to get a seat. This is where I’m supposed to say “This blows, what a waste.” Alright, it totally blew. But I have this theory on nights that blow. There’s this old Top Chef episode where, in the quickfire challenge, contestants were given a selection of ingredients–one of which happened to be SPAM. Given a choice between fresh, flavorful foods and SPAM, you would assume any chef in his right mind would scurry to score the good stuff and the last rotton egg would, begrudgingly, claim the SPAM. But any smart chef knows, SPAM’s a challenge. Anyone can whip up something good out of fresh produce, but SPAM? It requires ingenuity, a look outside the box. If you can turn SPAM into something good, it’s a guaranteed win–an unforgettable victory. A risk, yes. A disadvantage, definitely. But an edge.

An edge that makes you realize…
Wow, I did that. I made something good out of SPAM. Imagine what else I am capable of.

We didn’t get our snow on Third Street tonight. But we had the best table in the house at Olive Garden–and bottomless breadsticks. And now we have the opportunity of finding some fabulous way to put our bedazzled wagon to good use. Game on.

*****

Our Weekend:

We spent our entire Sunday afternoon sprawled out in a vacant soccer field at a nearby park.

Lainey learned how to keep a kite in flight–maintain a taut string, walk backwards, shout commands to the kite when it’s threatening to nose dive.

She did well.

Nella cheered her sister on, practiced standing and did that whole crawl-fast-and-look-back thing, begging me to chase her.

And these birds?

They kept alternating trees–settling in one for just a couple minutes before they’d fire up this disturbing squawk chorus. And then they’d all swarm to the next tree in a synchronized swoop. Really, I’m sure they were just meeting up and plotting how they planned to kill us.

Brett: “The BIRDS! The BIRDS!”

While Nella and I stretched out and napped right in the heart of the soccer field, Brett and Lainey set out in search of a consession stand. A short hike later, they returned with foil-wrapped hot dogs–cold and stale with crunchy dry buns–in other words, perfect.

Needless to say, new solution to add to the “We’re bored, there’s nothing to do” list: find vacant soccer field.

*****

That whole adopt-a-family thing? It rings true this week in many ways. Nana Kate’s kids and grandkids are all in from across the country, and we are accepting their welcoming invitation to weasel into their family this week.

It feels like the holidays. Late night living room talent shows, hot tub sing-a-longs, “Can Lainey play?” phone calls.

Lainey’s room transformed into a spa this weekend where a line-up of toddler toes froze while the oldest cousin painted them a festive green, red, green, red, green combo.

Finally, I had the privilege of photographing this entire family. I love this shot–a mama and her girls. They needed no instruction, very little “posing.” Literally, they just fell into place, landing in these natural embraces where bodies connected like pop beads. Nana Kate? She is just as beautiful on the inside.

*****

And now? Well, it’s Monday night–the opening ceremonies to a holiday week. Brett and I are planning tomorrow’s cleaning day as if it were a vacation. We’re actually excited about moving the printer to a different room, clearing off the clutter counter, and maybe–if we’re feeling dangerous–angling the living room rug. Oooh, gettin’ crazy. But seriously, come on. It’s beginning…little holiday memories.

*****

Darlybird Giveaway Winners:

A One Year Earring of the Month Subscription: Comment #476, Cindy: I love the shot of the 3 of you at the end of this post. It always surprises me when I see a picture of Nella walking around – she is a gem. And the dimple on Lainey is kissable. One of my girls has a dimple like that. I just have to eat her up when it appears.

One Surprise Goody Bag: 387, LibraryGirl62: Nella is just so stinkin’ cute with her crinkled up laughing eyes 🙂

Congratulations, Ladies. Please send your contact info with the subject line GIVEAWAY WINNER to kellehamptonblog@comcast.net to claim your prizes.

*****

Two of our fantastic past sponsors are coming back on board this month with some new products.

We love Coco Penny’s accessories–both for mom and kids. Their barrettes stay in my girls’ fine hair and aren’t easy for little hands to pull out.

I love their felt flower collection and the fact that they come in a range of sizes (tiny ones for Nella, medium for Lainey) and a variety of clip styles (alligator clip and tight-fitting snap closure barrettes).

The small felt bow is both simple and chic and easy for babies who aren’t blessed with the lots-‘o-hair gene.

Use code smallthings for 10% off your order!

*****

Cozy Rags, the company that brought you their ubersoft baby blankets last time, offers a great new product, the Phone Sax. The Phone Sax provides a stylish way to protect your phone, iTouch, sunglasses or camera and doubles as a cleaning cloth. I love that when I’m digging through my purse, I can now easily spot my phone with its yowza! case.

Say “phone sax” three times fast, and it sounds like something else. I’m just sayin’.

Leopard print phone case, meet leopard print shoes.

One randomly selected comment on this post will win a free phone sax.

To make it interesting, what are you tired of, what are you not tired of?

Tired of: dropped calls, beige walls, messes, a broken coffee pot, e-mails informing me I’m the only living descendent of a rich oil tycoon and I’ve inherited his fortune, crumpled receipts in my purse, cheap pens that don’t write.

Not tired of: cilantro, driveway parties, quilts, nursing, “dude,” Nella’s crawl, family bed, holiday catalogues, Takenobu, gratitude, pig tails, the way Lainey says “I’m positive,” carbs, holiday planning, limes, Arm & Hammer detergent, bangs.

*****

I will report back soon on the wagon. It is begging to make its holiday debut somewhere, and I still owe my girls fake snow. SPAM leftovers–we’re so going to make dessert of this.

“Your dad’s on Hampton Time again,” I muttered to Austyn as we waited for Brett from the car. I honked two quick taps of the horn, convincing myself two quick taps was several notches below the rudeness of a steady honk. Actually, I wasn’t worried about rudeness. I was worried about annoying the neighbors because what I really wanted to do was lay on the horn until Brett walked out, and then I wanted to follow up with a bitchy “What took you so long? We’re going to be late.” But I didn’t.

While we waited, I looked down to study my shoes, a pair I hadn’t worn since my teaching days. “These are ugly,” I thought. “I look like a pilgrim.” For some reason, though, our annual Christmas photo propels me to experiment with forsaken looks in my closet. And new hair styles. Which explains why I felt the need to pull out the Bump-It last night—that T.V. commercial gadget that wedges against your scalp and hikes your hair up all Bridget Bardot.

“I’m hot,” Lainey cried.

“Who said you could wear my shoes?” Austyn snapped at Brandyn.

“Oh my Gosh! Your dress!” In a moment of panic, I lunged to fix the crisp cotton I had ironed an hour earlier that was now folded and crammed beneath Lainey’s car seat straps.

And then Nella reached up and pulled one ponytail out. And I honked again.

This is how it goes every year and honestly, it’s completely ironic in that the annual family Christmas card photo is intended to epitomize all the love and peace-out vibes we cherish and yet, any fragments of Miserable Bitch that secretly dwell within me have a habit of rearing their ugly head come family photo shoot. I have this vision that during one of our normal beautiful family moments, when we’re all lounging around the living room and golden light is streaming through our front windows, a photographer will miraculously knock on our door and ask to take our picture. That’s my dream card—real life, good back light and a whole lot ‘o love. I am magnetically drawn to the charm of candid shots—of mismatched clothes and wrinkled noses, heads tipped in laughter, and the comfort that comes from not realizing there’s a camera in your face. Yet I fall into the trap, every year, of obsessively planning that one perfect shot and doing anything and everything to make sure it happens.

It’s in my blood, though. Both of my grandpas were photographers. In fact, I have an eight-year gallery worth of Cryderman Family Christmas cards framed in my hallway like a shrine, and, no doubt, some of these captured moments included scenes much like ours last night. Except my grandma would never, ever have honked.

Take 1957, for example:

You think my dad didn’t complain about having to wear a suit and bow tie for that shot? You think my Uncle Dale enjoyed “nonchalantly” holding that log over the fire for fifteen minutes until someone wasn’t blinking?

Or try 1955:

As if letter tiles conveniently lined up on the carpet to spell the family name were just an ordinary part of every day.

I’ll let 1948 speak for itself:

That one was not posed. Swear.

One of my favorite Christmas photos from our own family was taken when I was about seven. That oh-this-happens-everyday vibe we were going for? We almost pulled it off. It was brilliant: Christmas tree magically glowing in the background, the perfect colored-light bokeh, kids in pajamas, my dad’s Bible open on his lap with the tiny print of “Luke 2” barely visible from the pages. And our family arranged in a slightly imperfect semicircle around him, our expressions manifesting that we were simply riveted with the story of No Room at the Inn. Except, in the background, you notice someone failed to remember to turn the T.V. off before the camera clicked. The jig is up. We were captivated by MTV, not Luke 2.

Brett made it to the car last night, and the hour that followed was full of wild chaos that included flying rocks (don’t ask), gawking strangers, and commands to “straighten your shirt,” “stop squinting,” and, I’m sorry to say, “God, can’t you stand more natural?” Family Christmas card shoots don’t exactly bring out the best in me, and I’m not proud of it. Brett begged to never wear the jeans I made him wear again (“I can’t breathe!”) and I actually had to cut slits in Austyn’s sleeves to fit his biceps (a fact, I’m sure, he’ll be sharing with as many girls as possible). Although the night might be summarized with the simple phrase “We’ll Photoshop it out,” we did it. With a head swap or two, I can say we got “the shot.”

This morning though, I browsed back through the folder of images from last night, sipping my coffee and making note of the obvious disconnection of this moment, right now, and the forced perfection in our photos. I love them–I do. But, for a second, I had half a notion to ditch them all. To start new this year with effortless candid shots in a card that would represent my favorite moments with our family—the raw and real life ones that aren’t so color coordinated and certainly don’t involve hauling kitchen stools to hotels where we sit in a strategic symmetric huddle and smile. Un-posed is far more us and far more endearing.

But, you know what? This is us too. Once a year.

2007


2008

2009

2010

We’ve been doing this for a long time, and someday we will look back and laugh, retelling stories of cut sleeves and too-tight jeans and the wife who rudely honked in the driveway. Someday, our cards might be framed in grandchildren’s hallways, and they will laugh at our ugly shoes and my Bump-It bouffant and our color coordinates. But they will love them.

Who we really are is made up the well represented moments of imperfection that happen in our home every day—where we don’t stop to smooth out the wrinkles. We’ve captured so many of them.

Nella’s not feeling well today. She doesn’t want to be put down, and she doesn’t want to let go of her tissue.

But that once-a-year occasion where we Photoshop stains and stray hairs and snap at our kids to stop squinting and “act natural”—it’s part of who we are too.

It’s tradition, and I love me some holiday tradition.

*****

Congratulations to winners of the $25 gift certificate, courtesy of The Adorned Adobe:

Comment #178, Michelle: Your photos with quilts get me every time. XOXO, Missy from Indiana

Comment #36, Lovely Love: loved this post! you are too funny! i totally pictured you cartwheeling and dancing in my head lol! the pic of lainey on the beach with her “glass of wine” i loved! she looked so pretty and sophisticated and it gives you a glimpse of the amazing woman she will be one day. i needed this. i had a tough week last week, tough weekend, and today kinda sucked too. thank you 🙂

Michelle an Lovely Love, please e-mail your contact info to kellehamptonblog@comcast.net to redeem your gift certificates! Thanks.

*****

This week Dashing Bee joins us as a new sponsor. Dashing Bee provides a great online source where you can shop for inexpensive consignment children’s clothing, gear, toys and more. For anyone who loves shopping consignment, you know how great it is to score unique items that cost you less. I found some great items from Dashing Bee that satisfied my stripe obsession. Plus, I love that Lainey had this same sweater when she was little, and it’s always been one of my favorites.

Each month, Dashing Bee selects a charity benefiting children that receives a portion of their proceeds. Use Code ENJOY5 for 5% off your consignment order. Happy Shopping!

*****

And now, I leave you one blurry sneak peek–the reward of our efforts.

Any funny holiday card stories? Family photo traditions you love? Do tell.