My Longest Year

those blue eyes

I think I was about twenty when I met James.  My car had been hit by a deer (yes, it is my contention the deer hit ME) and had already been in the shop for two weeks.  I was at the mercy of my roommate's social calendar if I wanted to do ANYthing.  I'd just painted my nails, and she was about to make the 25-minute drive to her boyfriend's house and wanted me to tag along and meet his roommate.  Ew, a blind date.  Blech.  "No, my nails aren't dry," I whined.  She rolled her eyes and after several back and forths ("he's really sweet, and cute, and we already told him you're coming; he wants to meet you..." etc after etc), I finally agreed to go. 

Half an hour later, I was staring at the white door of a run-down apartment complex, waiting to see what this guy was really like.  I'll skip to the end first - we didn't click at all.  He was quiet (too quiet), reserved, very Caucasian (the kind that doesn't tan), and quiet. We really didn't like each other.  Looking back, he recalls that I was cute.  But too loud. And direct.  Not very girly.  But something I do remember from that first night was the moment he opened that grungy white door - how very blue and twinkly sweet his eyes were. 

There is nothing super important about that moment, except that now I remember it as the first moment of a night that was really UNspectacular.  An evening we really don't remember much about, but that changed our lives forever. 

I can't tell you how many times I look at my little girls and there I am again - my future husband at the door.  It makes me smile.  How two people at one point in time had NO clue that 12 years into the future they'd share a history of loss, war, several moves across the country, two children, and another pleasant surprise on the way...It tickles me every time.

almost here...

I can't believe The Boy is almost here.  Little brother.  Our son.  Terms I'm so unfamiliar with.  I wish we had time to get excited and contemplate it all but I'm afraid this little man is starting out every bit a "third child."  Our life is already pretty hectic, and getting worse with James' Guard duty (now four hours away) and a new role at work.  Both my girls, while very different from each other, are very much GIRLS in the drama/diva sense.  And they've gotten very demanding.  My photography venture is growing, and I am so grateful to get to keep shooting, but my own standards of myself are frustrating me in the context of pregnancy and the thought of managing three young children.

And yet, when I think about how emotionally exhausted I am, how physically incapable I am of completing even the simplest of tasks (like picking ANYthing up off of the floor), and how much noisier this house is getting as the girls grow, I am reminded of the almost-too-quiet afternoons I spent with my grandparents in their rooms last month.  Not only will this season pass, it will some day be gone forever.  So, in a weird way, even in the midst of my teary-days, I'm thankful.

You may have to remind me of all this when I am sleep-deprived a month from now...

Have a Colorful Valentines Day!

Ugh.  For the THIRD year in a row I've remembered that Evyn is having a Valentine's Day party, but forgotten to actually MAKE valentines with her to pass out.  This is supposed to be every crafty mom's favorite holiday - and you'll see little pretties all over blogland - pictures of children with paint and paper and ribbon, drumming up some fancy little thing to give to their friends, family, teachers.  Me?  I was so wrapped up in my own work (I had a newborn shoot to do the afternoon of the party) that I completely blanked on this fabulous girly crafting opportunity.  I've never been good with designated dates for things.  Even though I'm a planner, I am one of those people who waits for inspiration to hit before I buy a gift, send a card, or make something for someone.  Which means I'm really bad at birthdays and showers...and Valentines Day.  I woke up at 4:40 a.m. in a panic that my poor daughter would be going to school without anything special to take. 

As soon as we woke up, I threw together a batch of cookies from a mix, thinking that would be cute.  But I burned the cookies.  Plan B: surf the web for something easy from some mommy-blog.  Melted crayons in a heart shape?  That looked easy.  I remembered we had some heart-shaped muffin cups and gathered the girls at the table sure I'd just found the easiest, cutest little craft. 

After twenty-five long minutes of arduously peeling and scraping paper off of most of the crayons we owned, I finally got our little ditties in the oven.  I wish I had pictures of the mess this "easy" task entailed - bits of paper everywhere, half-eaten crayons on the floor and table (Ash? the dog? not sure which), overturned chairs from a milk-spilling incident where I grabbed the rug too fast in an attempt to shove a towel underneath, vegetable spray all over the table and chairs, several abandoned half-peeled crayons, and two kids who seemed pretty oblivious to the point of it all.

In the end they were cute but I think if this happens again I am totally stopping at the drugstore for some cheesy punch-out cards with kittens on them. 

snow day

It's been a long snow weekend here in NC.  Mostly we ate Cheez-its and pancakes and oreos and pizza...but in between all the eating we played:

Ash is in this phase where she doesn't mind causing a mess; she just doesn't like getting caught up in it.  Seeing paint on her apron really had her flummoxed:

I know this picture doesn't portray much playing - but for some reason I will always be a sucker for eyelashes.  And feet.  Eyelashes and feet.

 
 

moving on...but not before taking a minute to remember it all...

 

I took a trip to Nashville last weekend to see my grandparents, who are still in assisted living and learning to come to terms with their new life.  Nana has decided to sell the house, which means they will soon be tossing, donating, and selling their things. 

It's hard to think about.  The house is full of memories for me, starting especially with my move to Nashville for college.  I used to visit frequently, sitting around the kitchen table with Nana, chatting about school, boys, friends...

Before I left for the airport I went around the house, capturing the places and things I remember so well...the things that say "Nana and Grandpa" to me.

Like this little cozy spot toward the front of the house.  I used to love the light in this room.  Nana and I would sit here for some of my visits, rattling on about this and that.  There's a little candy dish on that chest that I used to pilfer from.

Around the corner is Grandpa's main perch in the house - his blue recliner.  He was always kicked back, playing crosswords or reading the paper while recording some program on TV that was always blaring.  He liked the idea of visiting, but I usually had to stare at the back of the paper or compete with Tom Brokaw. ;) 

It's funny.  I never really noticed this picture before now.

Grandpa spent all the time in the world with Evyn, though.  Teaching her the people/steeple game.  Evyn still talks about that.

 

Nana always said that room was too loud.  But we had a lot of fun there...

 

This flag is on a shelf in that same room.  Grandpa's kid brother Dick died in the war when they were just teenagers.  A terrible burden Grandpa had to bear his whole life - that his little brother joined the war to be like his big brother.   
  

Grandpa's room.  Best described as a collection of collections (I'm just now noticing the assortment of travel clocks), my favorite being these photographs of everyone he loved most.

That's Grandpa in uniform on the far right.

 
 

And my little sister Lora as a baby.

Hey, look what I found. 

Who take a picture of a bathroom?  Me.  Shortly after my husband and I married, he deployed.  I came back to Nashville to live with Nana and Grandpa for a few months to pass the time and hang out with the friends I'd just moved away from two short months earlier.  I used to get ready here each night, readying to visit someone at their new condo, or some new wine bar that had opened up in town.  Nana would lean on the wall and visit with me, admiring what I'd picked to wear or noticing some new earrings I'd bought.  I loved that part of the evening.

Nana's room.  She liked to read the paper here. We'd sprawl out on her bed and rifle through the ads, picking our favorite things and talking about sales or gossiping some more.  She'd bring out her Clinique samples and freebie cosmetic bags and share them with me.

In fact, she did that with Evyn on a trip we took last summer:

That phone on her nightstand, next to a calendar and pad of paper she used to organize her life.  I was always a bit fascinated by it, such a perfect shade of aqua.

She had her own collection of frames and baubles.  This is a favorite picture of mine. Lora is on the right, I'm on the left, undecided about "which monkey" I am (eyes, mouth, wha?).

Above the garage, Grandpa has a junk room.  It's a bit like rings on a tree to go in there, castoff furniture and piles of suitcases and books.  Lora and I used to play in there when we were younger.  I'm not sure what will happen to this chalkboard on the wall.  So I had to take a picture of it...

And, finally, this organ.  Nana wanted me to have it but unfortunately there just isn't room in our house.  Lora and I played here every time we visited as kids.

 
 
 
 

The house is quiet now.  Still, and dusty.  I was a little sad to pack up my camera and leave.  But I'm grateful.  That Nana and Grandpa are very much alive and doing well, considering.  I have new memories.  Gathering with them around the same wobbly table in the dining hall at their new place.

Walking them back to their separate rooms, just across the hall from each other, ironically even closer than at their house. 

 

 

 Nana didn't flinch when I took her picture this time.  Even they are getting used to my antics.

I would have taken a picture in grandpa's room, but a picture of the back of the newspaper isn't that enthralling.  Some things don't change much. ;)

Like his patriotism.

the bad and the ugly...

 

I recently took meals to a friend (working mom) who was not used to being home with her toddler for long stretches at a time.  I arrived around dinner time, and the house looked pretty normal - you know, a day's worth of toys scattered about the livingroom.  She's enduring a difficult pregnancy so it's exactly what I expected.  She welcomed me in and started to apologize: "I'm still trying to figure out how to care for a toddler and keep the house managed at the same time.  Is this kind of mess normal?"

Christy, are you kidding me?  YES!  Of course, I have a couple of friends who manage to keep the clutter to a minimum because, well, frankly, they spend any time not feeding their children tidying up after the children.  Not me.  I'm too busy - doing other stuff.  Emails, phone calls, bills, photography stuff, research stuff, crafting stuff - anything BUT picking up every single minute.  I've tried that.  And it's just futile.

So I decided to take a particularly messy day to post some pictures that I am hoping will make anyone who has asked the question, "Is this normal?" a little better.  Granted, this was a little extreme of a day - I DO normally keep it to a much duller roar.  But my point is, it happens. 

Counterspace?  Looks like a perfect perch for all the stuff we're trying to keep out of the Toddler's and Dog's mouth to me!

 
Today's groceries left out?  Hey, I've already put my pregnant self through the torture event that is Walmart with two small children. If it doesn't need to be refridgerated, it stays wherever I've dropped it until the Husband comes home (what's that?  there are princess toys mixed in with the groceries?  My girls think the kitchen table is a playroom):

Can you believe this is AFTER I've asked the girls to please pick up?

 
 You wouldn't know it to look at these pictures but I'm actually a pretty organized person.  And this isn't typical, although it's not too far from our day-to-day.  I'm spending my days finding a place for everything, making our space functional in anticipation of The Boy.  And it's actually going pretty well.  I'll be sharing our ideas over the next few weeks.

But for those of you who find yourself at home, with a toddler, and just can't seem to keep the house "guest ready" - take heart.  It's just a season.

friday find: my year in status app on Facebook

 

I like Facebook, but usually abhor all the little apps.  Except for this fun, quirky one.  A year in review of some of my favorite little moments across facebook.  Kinda makes me want to type one up and hang it on my wall for real...

lonely a little

 

It's December 11.  Not 12 or 13, Lora's and my birthday's, respectively.  Sometimes 9,10, 11...they're harder for some reason.  People naturally expect that my sister's birthday, or her homegoing anniversary, or Christmas day - that those days are the hardest.  I'm sure for some they are (I know they are for my mom).  But for me, the anticipation of a thing has always been harder, because I'm a planner, a thinker...I'm always a step ahead, it seems.  So this week in general has been a melancholy one.  I'm sure the hormones don't help.  But, somehow it's in the little things.

Like driving down a main street on a gray day this week, I passed a cemetary.  Little clouds of red flowers dusting the small field of gravestones.  That made me sad.  My sister's grave is not a place I can go, and most times that's perfectly fine.  I do most of my remembering and honoring of her in other ways.  But sometimes it makes me sad, that I'm not there.

Or listening to my youngest boo-hoo tonight at the dinner table because my husband brought her a glass of milk but not sissy.  She actually wouldn't stop bawling until Evyn got her milk.  That made me smile, and miss my sister a little.  She was the same way.  I can't stop thinking of Lora when I watch how fiercely protective and genuinely loving they are of each other.

Or on a bad day, when I want so badly to just reach out to my first "other half."  I'm grateful for my husband, who is my dearest friend and supporter, and who loves me and is encouraging just when I need him to be.  But he is not a girl.  And is not my sister.

I have a surprising number of close relationships with women.  I'm so appreciative of those friends, who are loyal and supportive of me.  And I take great care with those friendships because they are so much like sisters to me.  But in the end, they aren't my sister.  They aren't obligated to me, don't share my history, weren't there for all the good and bad growing up, weren't the ones who wrote me a last birthday letter with visions and promises of a life side-by-side as sisters...there was only one.  And she's gone.  And there are just some days that makes me lonely.

She would be 29.  I don't dwell too long on the "what-ifs" but I do catch myself picturing her chasing a baby or two around the kitchen, calling me for advice (or offering it).  Maybe saying "remember when?" as we joke about our kids and what they're up to.  And then I snap out of it, and instead watch my own girls with fond memories, hopeful they will always be as loving as they seem to be now, and constantly encouraging them to take care of each other, expecting (praying) they'll be able to...well past my own lifetime.

My first holiday season as a paid photographer went well and is now winding down.  I've been itching to craft and do cheesy stuff with the kids. This week I started working like a busy bee on some projects...some of them (obviously) involving pics of the girls.  Found this one of Ash.  I love it too much not to share.

Speaking of photos, have you seen this book?  Great ideas all over the place for photo-slash-craft projects. 

ETA: link is fixed, I think.

friday find: grace

 

For 2 1/2 years now James and I have had several ongoing arguments.  Among them: sack lunch.  When we decided to get out of the Army we knew that changing careers would mean a slight decrease in finances at first.  And one of the first things we agreed on was that James would make lunch to take to work, except for those occasions where a co-worker or manager wanted to eat out - networking is important, after all.  But for 2 1/2 years we've been going through the same routine.  At night I ask James if he's made his lunch yet, he says "No, I'll do it in the morning," I roll my eyes knowing that isn't going to happen, and sure enough - about 50 - 60% of the time it doesn't. There are a number of reasons this has annoyed me to no end - I won't get into them because, well, that's between us.  BUT, the bottom line is - this particular argument has been a thorn in my side for two. and a half. years.

It has gone beyond frustrating.  It's made me angry, resentful, and just more angry. 

For the last 5 weeks or so I have had a huge amount of work on my hands from my fledgling photography business.  I've been grateful to be so busy, but it hasn't been without growing pains.  And a lot of compromise and sacrifice on both mine and James' part.  We've discovered some areas that will need working on if I'm going to continue to run a successful business, but I have also discovered some gems.  Among them - James has grace.  He's always been more patient than I am, more tolerant of my whims and tantrums than I would ever be in return...but he's come home almost every night after a long day's work to discover me focused intently at my computer...and without any prompting has picked up wherever I've left off with the girls.  Don't get me wrong, almost every surface in my house is currently totally, embarrassingly grody.  But the kids have been fed, bathed, dressed - and on most occasions the dishes have been done.  All without me.

And when my laptop broke in the middle of a very busy working period, and I came crying to him desperate and panicking for some help with my workload, he made my crisis important and asked that question we females just want - need - to hear sometimes: "What can I do?"  And when I told him what he could do to help, he did it.  It was awesome.

So the other evening, while James was at his men's group, and I had some extra time on my hands organizing groceries, a thought occurred to me: "Let it go."  A few minutes later, I'd packed his lunch, tucked a note inside, and resolved to let this one go, indefinitely.  Two and a half years of the same argument...I guess I could continue making my point. It isn't a compromise, and it isn't what we agreed to.  But we all need someone to give us a little grace.  I've been lucky to have that from so many people in my life, including James.  And in the end, even though it's only a small gesture, for me it represents a little growth to just - let it go. 

I'm starting to wonder if I'd be less angry sometimes if I just had a little more grace.

2

You can ask her her name, her favorite show, what she likes to eat - the answer for the next couple of weeks will be the same.  She'll squint her eyes and squish her face, exclaiming "Two!" in a sometimes-North-Carolinan but always so squishy-sweet-Ashlyn way.  Evyn taught her how to answer "How old are you?" and since then she's been proud to say it.

I can't believe it myself.

 

 

 
  
  
My precious Baby-child.  Soon to be the Middle Child.  Funny about that.  They're each my baby.  I often refer to them both as "the baby" and almost as if we have our own short-hand James knows exactly which baby I'm talking about.

Anyway, there's something Forever Baby about her sweet and hammy personality; Happy Birthday, Baby.

 
 

whoops!

Didn't mean to blurt out my latest news that way...there seems to be a lot of whoops going around.  Enter precious baby #3:

 

I have a lot to tell you...but for now I'll let these first pics of our son sink in.  A son.  It feels as brand new as the first time I referred to Evyn as my daughter. 

I can't wait to see how the girls raise him, can you???

Friday Find: tweetbook & Cozi Family Journal

Do you Twitter?  Use Facebook?  I'm all over the place it seems, here, my other blog, my business site, Facebook...it's all a bit much.  As you can probably tell by my infrequent posting these last few months...so the thought of journaling my pregnancy, or the kids' happenings, on paper is, well, only a thought.  It probably won't happen.  And really, aren't I already doing that?

I don't use Twitter as much as I use Facebook, but I've found that all those little updates really amount to something: our family journal.  Now, if only there were a way to capture it all for print.  I went looking...and I've found a couple of options:

Tweetbook - a pretty simple application that basically collects all of your recent (not sure what defines "recent" but it goes back several months) tweets and puts them in PDF format for printing.

Cozi Family Journal - what I really wanted was an application that did the "tweetbook" thing for Facebook.  I haven't found one.  But I did find Cozi - a site that is actually a ton of things, but one feature they offer is a Family Journal.  You can do as much or as little as you want with the Journal; I opted to only use the Facebook application. 

If I find a way to use all of your Facebook updates to create a book, I will let you know.  Hey, if you're a tech genius who's figured this out - will you let me know?

for the bride

I love giving gifts with a story...whether it be the recipient's story or even my own.  In this case, I wanted to give a token gift to a bride.  Coffee and cookies...not typical, I guess.  But the thought behind it is sweet, I think. 

When James and I first married, we moved from Tennessee to upstate New York just two days later.  No honeymoon (unless you count the half hour staring at water at Niagara Falls).  And when I say "upstate" I'm not talking about Buffalo; I'm talking four hours NORTH of that.  Snowtown, USA.

We rented a very drafty upstairs apartment (with a remove-able wall...don't get me started) and had only two months together before James was to deploy the first time.  We spent our Saturday and Sunday mornings in the breakfast nook over our version of espresso and homemade biscotti.  At the time I was a bit lonely...far from my huge network of friends, co-workers, and alumni in Nashville, and suddenly thrust into military life in the coldest corner of the country.  Those mornings with James were sweet and dear to me.  When he deployed a few weeks later, I would make batches of this biscotti in care packages to him, hopeful they would bring comfort.  I think baking it just helped me pass the time with the only newlywed memories I had at the time.

So when I saw these sweet little espresso cups at Crate and Barrell one day, I knew they'd make a charmed little gift paired with biscotti...I'd pass my little newlywed story on to the happy couple and picture them sipping coffee on Saturday morning.  This gift is for the daughter of a blog friend of mine.  Whether the bride likes coffee or not is beside the point.  I think the story conveys a thought...wishing her many charmed Saturdays as a newlywed...

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

A few days before I sent the gift I ran across this little idea in my Green Craft magazine (love that magazine - great, REAL ideas) and thought it was so clever.  Imagine my surprise when I flipped the page and saw that the designer of the project was the bride's mother!

And, yes, that's an office supply tag you see inside my toilet paper pocket.  I've found they make great gift notes.

the duh way to journal your projects

I often save the scraps of my projects, planning to someday glue them to a fancy journal and keep this neat little creative book of sewing memories.  Those scraps have mostly just sat in my fabric stash. 

I found a better way: office supplies.

finally, a crafty thing: walker tote

Can you guess what it is?  I made a thrown-together terry cloth version of this several years ago for my grandpa when he had to use a walker.  Now it's Nana's turn.  She's asked for it several times and I just know she's going to be proud to "wear" it to the cafe at her new assisted living facility.

One side has pockets; the other is one large pocket for magazines and larger items.  It secures over the bar of her walker saddle-style with these two snaps, which are my only disappointment.  I wanted to use vintage buttons.  But I couldn't find the button hole maker and Ash was due to wake up any minute.

 

The ties on the side are kinda cute - but they're meant to be tied to the side bars of the walker to keep the whole thing from flapping annoyingly as she scoots.

Can you believe it?  That I made something, I mean.  It's been so long!  And I have another nursing-home project coming up soon (well, "soon" is relative).  I think we may have a whole new category of crafty-things here!