There is no gradual in-between for sinking back into reality after a high-energy mini vacay. Oh, it’s still high-energy alright. Just not the beeping taxi dramatic skyline kind.

It’s a bit jolting to suddenly shift into home life and yet still brace myself for the next round of up and at ’em that commences again later this week when we take off to Michigan for my mama’s wedding.

Not that I’m convinced to empty my suitcase, of course. Brett asked this morning, “you do realize you have to unpack before you pack again, right?”

One day I will have a cute suitcase, not a shabby box with a ripped zipper that looks like a racoon with yellow painted feet climbed all over it.

A seven dollar new pack of Costco underwear says maybe not.

You know what I miss about New York? The flowers. I miss the accessibility of flowers and how, on any given corner, in the middle of towering skyscrapers and busy traffic, you’ll find a flower shop with rows of vivid blooms. I came home craving flowers, but I can barely snip a gardenia from our front yard and slip it into the house without Brett’s allergies flaring up. Yes, fresh is always best, but it’s May and it was time we brought flowers into the house–even if they’re silk.

They make me happy.

I missed this girl and just three days away from her has me convinced she’s a hair taller, a smidge wiser and wearing four-year-old shoes a few weeks too early.

I am excited for it to be her time soon. We’re all allowed a bit of parenting guilt, and mine generally comes in the form of praying she never feels overshadowed by Nella’s extra needs. We do our very best to let her know she is unique and loved and has her own special needs we recognize. I believe that without stressing too much over “are we doing it right?”, she will naturally know what is in our hearts, but still…when the chance comes along to give her just-for-Lainey times, I’m all over it.

And preparing for her celebratory day makes me smile.

Her book is finally finished. Click HERE to view.

She’s really into outer space right now. Draws planets, cuts them out, tapes them to walls, knows their names, and I have no idea how.

She told me this was Mars.

Yes, three days away from my kid and I am noticing everything.

And three days away from home has Nella a bit discombobulated.

I noticed she was extra clingy in New York, and while her huge smile the minute we walked in the house expressed her obvious pleasure to be home, she’s still a little out of sorts.

You wouldn’t really know it though.

It seems our explore-the-world trips the past year usually fall a bit unbalanced with travel stressfully stacked closely together. It’s never easy–packing and unpacking, asking strangers to buckle your belt for you in the airport security line because you can’t see past the baby slung to your chest, knocking passengers over with your diaper bag and camera case as you try to shimmy through the skinny center aisle–but staying home isn’t all that easy either.

(for the record, we had Cheerios for dinner tonight.)

I consider it all a grand opportunity–both to travel and show my girls that there is lots to do and see, and to deepen our roots into the familiar ground of what we love. Our home, our friends, our bed.

In between all of it, there’s always sidewalk chalk for them, cold beer for us.

Lainey’s favorite snack: apples with peanut butter and “spwinkles”.

My suitcase isn’t the only thing in need of sorting post-trip. My brain’s still stuck in New York.

Congratulations to the winner of the Spotted Monkey hat, Commenter #376, Ryan: Oh how you make me want to go back to NYC to experience that wonderful city again … I was there once, years ago and loved every moment. What an inspiring trip and amazing stories!!

Ryan, please send your contact info to kellehamptonblog@comcast.net

I’m coming around.
Have a great week.

Behind the girls’ bedroom door, there is a purple bag hanging on a hook. Its canvas is worn and its woven straps are near threadbare, but inside there are treasures that keep my girls happy. It’s my Bag of Tricks–the first thing I grab when we’re out the door to a restaurant or guaranteed to be in the car for any extended period of time, and its contents–favorite books, paper dolls, pop beads and My Little Ponies–magically entertain an otherwise inconsolable child.

pewter wand, Lisa Leonard Designs.

I’ve realized the past few days though, that mamas need a bag of tricks as well–a reserve of go-to comforts that vitalize our spirits when things aren’t quite right. And, amid the craziness of sleepless nights, neglected laundry piles and failed attempts at pretty much anything this week, I’ve become reacquainted with my bag of tricks and the simple self-preserving actions I do to renew and inspire.

If Motherhood was a Monopoly game, I’d have to say I dwell primarily on a hotel-stacked Boardwalk. I pass Go every morning when I pull my jammied babies out of bed, and I am making bank with my overall satisfaction of raising littles.

But this week, I’m stuck on Baltic Ave. And I guess, that’s just part of the game.

The hilarity of snafus this past week is honestly amusing. Sleepless nights, broken dishes, diapers ripped to shreds by dogs. You know, the usual.

I am cute. But I was up from 1 to 5 for no reason.

I ran over a bottle of Crayola colored bubbles the other day in our driveway. The highly pigmented bubbles that leave a permanent trail of green syrup etched in the cement.

I got lost on the way to Nella’s eye appointment in Miami and then forgot where I parked my car in a 6-story parking garage later. For half an hour, I held a sleeping baby while I spiraled ramps, clicking my keys and chasing down honks.

I cried on Alligator Alley because Nella was hysterical in the backseat and there were no exits for me to pull over and help her.

We’re trying the amber teething necklace. We’ll see what happens.

I broke a bottle in my kitchen and a candle in World Market.

But–oh yes, there’s a but–I have a bag of tricks. And in Monopoly, that’s like Free Parking. Amid the tears, the broken glass, the honking car on the 6-story parking ramp, I forced myself to enjoy as many pleasures as I could. Simple things. A cold frosty from Wendy’s drive-through on the way home from Miami, a new home magazine at the grocery store, an NPR poetry reading I turned up in the car–the one that finally lulled Nella to sleep. I took the long way home yesterday, stopping at visitor centers to take pictures of the swamp.

Look what I saw in the swamp. (I was safe, promise…and Nella was in the car)

I even enjoyed a rare moment of folding clothes still warm from the dryer yesterday and strangely found comfort in pruning my fingers in a warm bucket of lemon suds–a far cry from my usual just-get-it-over-with attitude toward the half-hour cleaning shake-down.

When things are messy, good always rises to the surface if you wait for it.

Good=Miami skyline.

Good=healthy eyes, a great appointment and still…no need for glasses.

Good=my blooming gardenia bush.

Good=Early evening driveway art.

Lainey enjoyed a sleepover at Grandma’s last night, and after an impromptu girlfriend gathering over hot wings and cold beer last night, I am savoring a quiet morning with my coffee and my littlest girl.

There is more in my bag of tricks, but I’ll save it for when I need it again.
We’re back on Boardwalk, baby.

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

Add this to your bag of tricks…something pretty dangling from your ears.

The Meg Shop is back as a sponsor, and these white pearl curve earrings are pretty enough to bump your Baltic Ave. days up to, say at least St. James Place. Use code ENJOY10 for 10% off your order!

The Meg Shop is giving away a $40 gift certificate to a randomly selected commenter on this post.

To make it fun, tell me what’s in your bag of tricks? What self-preserving comforts do you allow yourself to bump your Baltic days to Boardwalk?

Random things.

Afternoon Light.
There’s this magic spot in our yard that glows every day come six o’clock. And by glow, I mean sunlight generously pours through the woods and breaks into these golden beams that put on a show in the patch of grass under the big tree in our side yard. As long as it’s not cloudy, I’m guaranteed to catch a beam grazing the cheeks of my girls if they’re still enough.

The Formidable Spider.
I am walking outside today–smiling, welcoming the sun, thinking about how much I love the $5 blue shoes I picked up in Key West–when suddenly I stepped right into the intricate web of an orb weaver spider. I knew it the second I felt its sticky threads adhere to my cheeks, and I completely flipped when I looked up to see the spiny back of this little mama just inches from my face.

Stay in your web, little mama.

Night Swims.
Yesterday, we used our pool for the first time this year. It’s too expensive to heat it in the winter, but the sun is a close friend now, so a dip in the pool is no longer a shocking, breath-holding experience.

But the night swims? Oh, the night swims. They are my favorite. There’s something magical about swimming in a moon-lit pool–scanning the black sky through the screen, searching for the Big Dipper, making shadow charades in the glow of the pool lights and tuning in to the accompaniment of crickets from the woods behind us. It feels very summer camp, and I hope my girls remember every bit of it.

Superdogs.
Our dogs are badasses in more ways than one but mostly because they have survived the torment of a toddler who dresses them, showers them, wraps them in blankets and sometimes puts them in her play kitchen stove. Okay one time, but still.

Wonder Twin Sophie. Super power: Barking at super-canine decibels that wake babies.

We Dance.
About a year ago, Brett pulled one of his random quirky little deeds. He rigged up a boom box in our garage to play continuous music–24/7. Not just any music…Country. And we’re not even really country folk. But the very fact that this is not really a fits-with-who-we-are kind of thing thrills me. I love that I forget the music is out there. Every time I fling the garage door open at any hour of the day to fetch an extra roll of paper towel, search for duct tape or head out to the car to dig for a lost lipstick, I am pleasantly surprised by the music.

Hey Dad, yeah we stole your boombox. I’m gonna get you a really nice Father’s Day gift though.

Rule is: when you hear the music, you have to dance. So now, Nella knows the minute we walk into the garage, it’s bustamove time. And Girlfriend obliges.

I love that she knows this. I love that there was once a day when I actually thought that our diagnosis meant my little girl wouldn’t do things like this, but she does. She remembers everything, and you cannot walk through the garage with Nella on your hip without stopping to give in to her hand-clapping, head-bouncing little pleas to dance.

Knowing when to dance is an imperative trait I want my children to inherit. And, in case you wondered, the answer to when is it a good time to dance? is…
…anytime you feel like it.

The Two of Them.
Their bond is quiet but sure.

We have begun to talk to Lainey here and there about Nella’s needs. It comes up naturally and not really that often, but there have been times when, out of concern for Lainey’s feelings, I’ve wanted her to know why therapists come to play with her little sister.

We don’t say much because not much is needed to be said. But I know my girls well. And I know the big sister gets it. I just know.

No Explanation Needed.
I had to have them, okay?

Nella Sleeps. Or Not.
Nella’s not a good sleeper. She still wakes up in the night and her naps are inconsistent. I can’t do the whole let-’em-cry-it-out thing, so I usually nurse and sing and sway until she’s out. And I honestly enjoy every second of that time–watching her knead my skin, play with her feet, slow her sucking until she’s melted into a heavy little slump in my arms.

But lately, as still and sleeping as she seems at the end of this whole shtick, the second I carefully and quietly lay her in her crib, she miraculously shoots up and smiles. Today, I finally walked away, hoping she’d put herself back to sleep. After half an hour, I heard nothing. I was certain she’d done it–settled herself into slumber–so much I started planning the moves of my victory dance…until I walked in to confirm and found my quiet girl just like this:

Silent. Awake. Adorable.

Fine Motor.
She holds a piece of chalk like it’s her job. And she knows what to do with it. Sister colors the cement, no problem. Lainey taught her.

Little Friends.
Lainey’s friend spent the day with us today, and I was delighted with the dynamics of three girls–two that were off and running, one that stayed glued to her mama.

Nella’s new favorite–frozen yogurt tubes.

But they all joined forces for lunch in the woods.

Ebay.
Lainey grew out of her old hand-me-down cowboy boots, and she wanted real “cowboots” for her birthday party. I found these leather beauties on Ebay for $12, and I love them. The leather smells rich, feels appropriately worn-in, and there are two holes at the top, perfect for her little fingers to slip into while she pulls them on.

Can’t Get Enough of…

…this simple salad Heidi got me turned on to. Arugla, cilantro, half a sqeezed lime and sea salt.

Spring photo from a few weeks ago I never posted:

Dresses for Grandma’s wedding next month

Got Yogurt?

Blog Videos
The awesome folks at Babble have put together 5 video segments featuring moms talking about different blogging issues. Today’s video, the first of the series, discusses deciding how personal to get…and, for the record, I’m still getting used to Skype.

Check it out HERE.

The week’s almost over. Enjoy!