tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-324308702024-03-13T17:30:10.442-05:00Emily's Little WorldSt. Louis newborn, maternity, children's, family, senior photographyEmily S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10982103855213817116noreply@blogger.comBlogger1123125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32430870.post-32773903346753285752023-02-07T10:33:00.004-06:002023-02-07T10:33:30.640-06:00Copied From A "Catchup" Post in My Mom's Group<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjItY0CYrUNtY8NpuOUx5oGzUkyXEDrRMbGpccqYtJC3UAc1jHr854CBmHXSGlnrOrk60UoJlarDuZ99OTFToxF4yA6pBZRJBLaWuKL_kNAWtMNYvn5eJpYc5Gb8UJuXb_kCKJKL8xxr0dKQyoUKk8zl0HQMJFjf_p39FvNgWS1YNefaon79Ao/s5472/7D7A2619%20copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjItY0CYrUNtY8NpuOUx5oGzUkyXEDrRMbGpccqYtJC3UAc1jHr854CBmHXSGlnrOrk60UoJlarDuZ99OTFToxF4yA6pBZRJBLaWuKL_kNAWtMNYvn5eJpYc5Gb8UJuXb_kCKJKL8xxr0dKQyoUKk8zl0HQMJFjf_p39FvNgWS1YNefaon79Ao/w640-h426/7D7A2619%20copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I recently checked in with my longtime online Mom's Group and asked for life updates. Here is what I shared on my own behalf.... Kind a a good checkpoint summary, so I wanted to add it here for posterity. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">*********************************<br /></span></p><div class="x1lliihq xjkvuk6 x1iorvi4"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs x1xmvt09 x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u" dir="auto" lang="en"><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xdj266r"><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">Quick updates from the Southerland house:</div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;"> </div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">First,
here's our most recent family photo. I took the kids and Joe out to get
photos of them specifically, and everyone was actually cooperating and
chill, so I jumped in a few at the end and am shocked at how I don't
hate them. haha!</div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;"> </div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">Life is
pretty good here. Nothing spectacular, but also nothing very miserable.
Joe and I finally bought the house we live in, about 1.5 years ago.
It's stressing Joe out to have to adult so hard, but it's a good thing
overall. As long as you don't notice how the slab addition side of the
house is starting to break away from the rest of the structure. Those
big dark crevasses are fine as long as we spray them for spiders, right?
<span class="x3nfvp2 x1j61x8r x1fcty0u xdj266r xhhsvwb xat24cr xgzva0m xxymvpz xlup9mm x1kky2od"></span><span class="x3nfvp2 x1j61x8r x1fcty0u xdj266r xhhsvwb xat24cr xgzva0m xxymvpz xlup9mm x1kky2od"><img alt="š±" height="16" src="https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/t85/1.5/16/1f631.png" width="16" /> </span></div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;"><span class="x3nfvp2 x1j61x8r x1fcty0u xdj266r xhhsvwb xat24cr xgzva0m xxymvpz xlup9mm x1kky2od"> </span></div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">Joe
is working at SIUE in Illinois--- he started the job right in the
middle of 2020 nonsense, and it's a good job. It came with a promotion
in position and a raise. But now he is restless that there is no room
for growth there, so he is beginning to contemplate the next degree-- a
PhD or Ed degree. Whew!</div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;"> </div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">Noah
continues to blow us away with his quirky interests and passions. He is
one of a kind for sure. He loves his engineering class, loves his
Rocketry and Politics clubs, and is in two non-school choirs, one of
which gets to go to Carnagie Hall this June. He is opinionated,
hyper-intellectual, and a fountain of random knowledge. He wants to live
in Finland. He wants to be a Renaissance Man in that he doesn't want to
have to specialize in his life, he just wants to embrace it all--
music, languages, geo-politics, engineering, science, writing, etc. He's
6' tall and funny and a little "old man grumpy", and really just a good
kid.</div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;"> </div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">Lucy has been
thriving in her first year of middle school! She has been medicated for
ADHD since the beginning of the school year, and she really seems to
have a handle on her anxiety and her inattentive ADHD issues. She got a
4.0 last semester, WHOA. She is growing into herself and I can see it,
and it brings me a lot of peace and happiness. I have spent way more
than my fair share of parenting energy worrying about this girl. But for
now, all is well. </div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;"> </div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">Quinn
is the one I am currently worrying about. I just want to make sure he
doesn't get lost in the crowd of big personalities in this family. I
want to give him opportunities to be a leader after spending his whole
life following Noah. I want to make sure he gets to practice voicing his
own opinions and ideas. And I just want him to feel seen and loved just
the way he is. I also want to get him a leopard gecko. I think he needs
something to take care of, and our attempts at a betta fish two years
ago just kept ending in tragedy. I don't have the heart for more
attempts. </div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;"> </div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">Larkin is as
Larkin as ever, and that's really all you need to know. Cats are still
basically 56% of her whole personality, she is bright and happy and
helpful and clever and creative. She's a classic baby of the family
too-- doesn't clean up after herself and doesn't like to be told NO. But
mostly she's a gem. Kindergarten can barely keep up with her. </div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;"> </div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">And
I am chugging along. I began a daily walking habit when they started
the school year--and have only missed two days since August. It's been
fulfilling in ways I could not have imagined when I set the goal. In
some ways, it's like I'm parenting my inner child in that I am nudging
myself to get outside and breathe the fresh air more, and I get to be
read to (storytime!) when audiobooks are in my ears. Weirdly healing. I
also joined my first official choir since being married, and it is
bringing me so much joy. I should've been finding a way to sing all
along. I mean, technically I DID sing all along-- just in my car and to
my kids at bedtime. Not enough. It's such a lesser-visible part of my
world here, but I really was born to sing, and it means the world to me
to get to do it again so regularly. Photography is still going strong,
and I still love it 90% of the time, and it definitely helps keep our
family afloat and keeps my kids in new shoes and such. I am finishing up
the paperwork to become a sub in our school district, but I really only
want to take a sub job maybe once or twice a week at most. </div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;"> </div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">And that's us! If I could change anything, I'd have:</div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">1. a new minivan</div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">2. an addition added to this house, plus those cracks repaired. </div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">3. two more solo hours a day, which is greedy because I already now get 7 a day as it is. </div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;"> </div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s"><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">And
that's it. Life is pretty good.ā„</div></div></span></span></div>Emily S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10982103855213817116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32430870.post-16991305641657454622022-10-11T09:21:00.001-05:002022-10-11T09:21:38.223-05:00Field Notes #1:<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhCO_mpLUk0b9OqecThguNUnt8lRjvsGVHsq88A1gcHtSj5eQZ4RPtgglGzhBxVpZhoCcDvZbCg58F_RoUUD3gvJiql2fC84nljXC1heaWoHvbPcKUTCnPZwlh3kW2srtI2aRd6HfdQqinIpEAM9PWFuzTOhCplwGjjJLmzcWxDdwX0-UTCiw/s4032/IMG_9610.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhCO_mpLUk0b9OqecThguNUnt8lRjvsGVHsq88A1gcHtSj5eQZ4RPtgglGzhBxVpZhoCcDvZbCg58F_RoUUD3gvJiql2fC84nljXC1heaWoHvbPcKUTCnPZwlh3kW2srtI2aRd6HfdQqinIpEAM9PWFuzTOhCplwGjjJLmzcWxDdwX0-UTCiw/w300-h400/IMG_9610.JPG" width="300" /></a></div> 9.20.22<p></p><p>I decided to listen to Beethoven's 9th, 4th movement, for my morning walk. I'd just read a little essay titled "Come Back Joy" from Rachel Macy Stafford and I decided to treat myself to the Ode to Joy, knowing it was a personally potent antidote for low moods. It started out rocky-- I didn't immediately find the full movement in Apple music and that was annoying, so I had to stop in the middle of the sidewalk to carefully plug in the precise terms, "Beethoven Symphony No. 9, movement IV" to get what I needed. But once I was back on track, and listening to all 25 minutes of goodness, it was a powerful as ever, even in the too-sunny, too-hot morning. I mouthed along to the German words I still remembered, let tears leak out in the places they needed to, and even allowed my hands to conduct the last 45 seconds or so, because you just HAVE to. It's Robert Fulghum's fault. <a href="http://emilys-little-world.blogspot.com/2008/01/oatmeal-days.html">Oatmeal Days and all that</a>. </p><p>So... Essay. Walk. Ode to Joy. Tears and tiny conducting movements.... Yeah. It's all working. This warm fuzzy feeling in my chest confirms it. </p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo3P_XTtjSBzPpCSI_quM3qpzdiw6mbNAUxmQ7rYKo2YzLXz-YEaAtbieZZ6OGPFH9PnN5nQQU2AeXklcCYDunmytUGvI0_tohza1P3MnKDH3ioOdERaN79eg390g1CQ04pys1yzLVXqFAIKJ6IxC-UcVV4ZXlJvnBNjy33ycwON3NLE9XmxE/s4032/IMG_9660.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo3P_XTtjSBzPpCSI_quM3qpzdiw6mbNAUxmQ7rYKo2YzLXz-YEaAtbieZZ6OGPFH9PnN5nQQU2AeXklcCYDunmytUGvI0_tohza1P3MnKDH3ioOdERaN79eg390g1CQ04pys1yzLVXqFAIKJ6IxC-UcVV4ZXlJvnBNjy33ycwON3NLE9XmxE/w300-h400/IMG_9660.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>9.22.22<p></p><p>This morning, when I put in my earbuds, I accidentally tapped "play" on them and Mumford and Son's "Not With Haste" started playing. YES. I opened the music app and had it create a station based on the song, so I was also treated to Dave Matthew's "Crash" and "Ho Hey" by the Lumineers. It all fit so well with the new chill in the air and the fallish breezes I was gifted with for my entire walk. I saw a holly bush with plump clusters of berries starting to color up. I passed the most perfect nook of a neighborhood where impatiens were spilling out of ever possible spot and crevice. One dog barked in a faux-watchdog way but her mama said she was harmless. Another dog gave me a friendly look. A little baby-kid on the playground and his mom both waved at me. It was 61 degrees and it was so perfect. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7If0fY559AhJpoAnCpiFH7A_GseMtvtJ1YXRGeWUkg3y-Qp2xLPJBJP6pgeWMxIVwxYvXhEr5vZr0Fw_cGnUzO8Q9VTxlG9cxxzyfFiVHZGT2NTkPJY_n20mWSynL3snqSjOfx413_OmaLypqgAFbsEn6eXPgxH0XmPykRVSMdAdt1MomSq4/s4032/IMG_9642.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7If0fY559AhJpoAnCpiFH7A_GseMtvtJ1YXRGeWUkg3y-Qp2xLPJBJP6pgeWMxIVwxYvXhEr5vZr0Fw_cGnUzO8Q9VTxlG9cxxzyfFiVHZGT2NTkPJY_n20mWSynL3snqSjOfx413_OmaLypqgAFbsEn6eXPgxH0XmPykRVSMdAdt1MomSq4/w300-h400/IMG_9642.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><p>9.27.22</p><p>I will always associate this date with Bonnie Fairbanks, my first best friend ever, because it's her birthday. And tomorrow is another of my early-years best friend's birthday, Emily Whitman. Brains are weird. The temperature for my walk this morning was 57-ish degrees and I LOVED it. I spent today's walk listening to the last 35 minutes of my audiobook, "Becoming", by Nora Roberts. It's the second in a trilogy, but the third one isn't coming out til November, so now I have to try to retain all the details of what I've been listening to all month so I don't feel lost come November. It has been a perfect set of books to walk along to... a fantasy world with modern aspects, very Nora Roberts in that it delves a lot into the main character's inner world and growth, and the external "adventure" aspects are good fun, but not terribly complex. Overall a pretty simple set of stories, but good fun to escape into. Guess I'll need to find an interim book until that November release. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghYwzr7XvfyAUsQjL3AKUf0_Uq6Ump7EjCU4LVK3WEfRf2IHsypktTlVevdUv0oPFt1MMR_zHRhFBncR_JoPqHtfnqFzE_WQ5hXbh8iuq-N0PiOPgZtA9LgTAhZvDHIDVCTidybW8HzgTe1nLgyZGXnN6qMD86CFguCnc7zCprEOBH1Y05ljE/s4032/IMG_9608.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghYwzr7XvfyAUsQjL3AKUf0_Uq6Ump7EjCU4LVK3WEfRf2IHsypktTlVevdUv0oPFt1MMR_zHRhFBncR_JoPqHtfnqFzE_WQ5hXbh8iuq-N0PiOPgZtA9LgTAhZvDHIDVCTidybW8HzgTe1nLgyZGXnN6qMD86CFguCnc7zCprEOBH1Y05ljE/w300-h400/IMG_9608.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhciwt3FKUOSvAdv2ZTJq0LOUCgHWsr-cP8tTRA9HdsPxK6nWnNTDOckm8RWWOHAGCFUIcbTnxtrrKg4dE7pgRzVEOKAtlyr-JXrQtVWHnM51-9mWSof_rZyK2UNbmhEdKdf6w2sqaU93lK_Nl77y88-lzz8AD9M4I9EJfYpLGSolZDk1-DS_w/s4032/IMG_9614.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhciwt3FKUOSvAdv2ZTJq0LOUCgHWsr-cP8tTRA9HdsPxK6nWnNTDOckm8RWWOHAGCFUIcbTnxtrrKg4dE7pgRzVEOKAtlyr-JXrQtVWHnM51-9mWSof_rZyK2UNbmhEdKdf6w2sqaU93lK_Nl77y88-lzz8AD9M4I9EJfYpLGSolZDk1-DS_w/w300-h400/IMG_9614.JPG" width="300" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">10.4.22</div><p>Kids were home yesterday for a teacher workday, so today is my "Monday"-- the fresh start to a new week. I relish the solitude in the morning, when the day is ripe with potential and the sun is fresh and bright. Today I drove to a nearby neighborhood to take my walk in a new setting. This was the neighborhood I used to drive to to take Lucy to her first preschool, a home preschool by Tassa B. That was such a sweet time for Lucy and for me. Our Parents as Teachers educator lived in this neighborhood, too. Probably still does? I hoped, more than a little, that I might run into her taking her own walk on the same streets today, because I remember she used to take her dog around her neighborhood all the time. Alas, no sightings today. But I got 2.2 miles in and opted to not check my progress at all until I was done, jst letting the streets and my audiobook lead the way. I am 89% done with Pet Sematary, and it is smack in the middle of the climactic last bits, and it's chilling and gripping and so so well-written. I have thoroughly enjoyed this audiobook experience!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC3kMZ0CTLnDfWLaHkWCyvTTSORHtFRe7jbav37e6ZWfCAi7pLBiwteVfTODWt0GgrykEeB68yyexySXojcUFz9rZYDR0hht6IW_X__HCgxqSbHR4-Yj2rGXy2Wa35LYpaAMIji7ucf_CxocLZCtPqg5P49C4GwvahlzueClldFrw9AhMNLEM/s3554/IMG_9655.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3554" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC3kMZ0CTLnDfWLaHkWCyvTTSORHtFRe7jbav37e6ZWfCAi7pLBiwteVfTODWt0GgrykEeB68yyexySXojcUFz9rZYDR0hht6IW_X__HCgxqSbHR4-Yj2rGXy2Wa35LYpaAMIji7ucf_CxocLZCtPqg5P49C4GwvahlzueClldFrw9AhMNLEM/w340-h400/IMG_9655.JPG" width="340" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz5hi_BHOF19Q-lK74nR9okd1ARBwQv_xuPaHNmlXx_XRk_lrzH9i0aLeVm6H-LQ1lneabYKkpPtyH-seYPHZG3S8pjpqsKyTsxCIszx_EJBFaZoktUkBoHM2vvgZ1VmLnnekmIsixPbNTBLxwY8yx1WKcdyk_V7-a0z_Ip9S0flMiK4S3E5Y/s3088/IMG_9658.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2316" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz5hi_BHOF19Q-lK74nR9okd1ARBwQv_xuPaHNmlXx_XRk_lrzH9i0aLeVm6H-LQ1lneabYKkpPtyH-seYPHZG3S8pjpqsKyTsxCIszx_EJBFaZoktUkBoHM2vvgZ1VmLnnekmIsixPbNTBLxwY8yx1WKcdyk_V7-a0z_Ip9S0flMiK4S3E5Y/w300-h400/IMG_9658.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><p>10.11.22</p><p>I had my first chance to hold to my promise to myself that I would take a daily walk no matter what the weather. This morning it is rainy rainy rainy. Temps aren't bad--- high 50's-- and it's not pouring buckets... It's just a steady light-to-medium rain. So I put on one of Joe's baseball caps, grabbed my new workout jacket, and headed out. I decided to try to get to my goal-- 30 minutes-- but not push further than that. With the exception of a handful of minutes where the rain got heavier and I paused under a tree, it was generally pretty easy and pleasant. By the last quarter of my walk the brim of the hat was dripping, and my long-sleeved arms were sort of chilly from the damp. But I did it! And I would do it again-- no big deal! Upon reaching home, I made sure to stuff my slightly-damp shoes with newspaper so they're ready and dry for tomorrow. And I needed to change out of everything, including the underthings, because it was all dampish. And that is the report of my first rain-walk. 1.8 miles and feeling great!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh-vjlCWh7EQhwF_WUECQrOkprD5ckyUXQYlLn-RMgJY7_Km5g0CIwL0nQb3rdYtlgebDkxsmOk6Nmk74irOB2FEgcGzMfGbAJSM1i71MVbldhGfd6DbgMAxaq2z0SkfJ7uVWbxZmVrSQ1octzQPSo6fcTKLc6amcq2UBKPb62R1mO8Pjx5DI/s3024/IMG_9662.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh-vjlCWh7EQhwF_WUECQrOkprD5ckyUXQYlLn-RMgJY7_Km5g0CIwL0nQb3rdYtlgebDkxsmOk6Nmk74irOB2FEgcGzMfGbAJSM1i71MVbldhGfd6DbgMAxaq2z0SkfJ7uVWbxZmVrSQ1octzQPSo6fcTKLc6amcq2UBKPb62R1mO8Pjx5DI/w200-h200/IMG_9662.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Emily S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10982103855213817116noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32430870.post-48586806072312518332022-10-04T10:30:00.005-05:002022-10-04T10:30:32.348-05:00I'm Sad That:<p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxZEqGN4yO9e6QY2OHwiwOK0adkSla9CV2z1ihW7-fl9yHZEyGnszixPK7O441vOqlhkMFrlGiH3HwVohK58SmevSnL2m93vXR2p-xbdkcpYtnQhPpZndfZF_c0zYl4ABUl1RUvB0D2_3BAV6024AP4Mez5ybV0-QTiKMVVdWC3H3oIJ-nVv4/s8064/IMG_8400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6048" data-original-width="8064" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxZEqGN4yO9e6QY2OHwiwOK0adkSla9CV2z1ihW7-fl9yHZEyGnszixPK7O441vOqlhkMFrlGiH3HwVohK58SmevSnL2m93vXR2p-xbdkcpYtnQhPpZndfZF_c0zYl4ABUl1RUvB0D2_3BAV6024AP4Mez5ybV0-QTiKMVVdWC3H3oIJ-nVv4/w640-h480/IMG_8400.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Years ago, when I was reading a lot of S.A.R.K. books (I still love that crazy gal!), I came across an exercise she talked about frequently doing in her journals called "I Want". Basically, you sit with blank paper and pen (or colorful markers if you wanna be like SARK), and just open up your heart and imagination and let yourself scribble down what you WANT... Anything from immediate needs like "a snack" or "a hug" to wild imaginings like "an apartment in Rome" or "gossamer wings". You just let go and write. I love this exercise and I've done several of these lists of my own over the years, including more than a few <a href="https://emilys-little-world.blogspot.com/2010/08/28-days.html">here</a> <a href="https://emilys-little-world.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-want-journaling-exercise-for-any-day.html">on</a> <a href="https://emilys-little-world.blogspot.com/2013/01/full-term.html">the</a> <a href="https://emilys-little-world.blogspot.com/2019/01/i-want.html">blog</a>. I will always write these lists, I suspect. They are such a good place to center your heart, to check in with yourself, to dream a little, and to be a kid again. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Well, the other day I was taking my daily walk, and I was feeling all kinds of feelings, and they were generally wistful and melancholy, and I was letting the walk absorb these waves of feelings... breathing deeply and looking for signs of autumn color... when I saw a group of boys ride by me on their bikes, caught up in the beautiful weekend morning sunshine. And a thought came to me so sharply: I am sad that my kids never became bike riders-- not in the way these boys were...riding bikes in a gang and having the ultimate freedom to roam neighborhoods and fly down hills. And this one distinct thought, a palpable expression of my sadness, became the first item on a new sort of list. Instead of a whole stack of "I Want"s.... I pulled out my phone and began a list of "I'm Sad That..."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Maybe it's not the same kind of healthy exercise that the "I Want" list is... But maybe it kind of is? Either way, it became a tender catharsis of the feelings that had been building up all morning, and it felt good and right to let them live on "paper"... to take them out and examine them a little bit in the light of day. The more I walked, and let myself feel, the more of these little thoughts would drift in and I'd add them to my list. It wasn't a deluge of bitter thoughts... just one thought here, then a few minutes later another.... Just little hurts that rose up as I was already feeling raw and open. Ultimately, I ran out of items to add, and I ended my walk by listening to a gorgeous song my friend Micah sent me the day before, Brandi Carlile's <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jFbtKWN7WAo">"This Time Tomorrow (In The Canyon Haze)"</a>. I'd never heard it before, and it was perfect--finally breaking open that buildup of moodiness in me-- and I cried as I stood by my parked car. A good cry. A cleansing wave. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">And then my car wouldn't start and real life crowded back in, and that was that. Isn't that just like life? Ha. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Anyway... I don't know if it's too personal to actually post my list, but it's my blogjournal, so I'm gonna do what I want. Only 5 people are reading this, anyway, and you are all people I love, and I know you know me well... We've probably talked about a few of these in person anyway! </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">So it's cool. Here we go.<br /></span></p><div class="msg-body P_wpofO mq_AS" data-test-id="message-view-body-content"><div class="jb_0 X_6MGW N_6Fd5"><div><div id="yiv9092223479"><div><p class="yiv9092223479p1" style="font-size: 28px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 3px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="yiv9092223479s1" style="font-weight: bold;">Iām sad that:</span></span></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="yiv9092223479s2">My kids donāt ride bikes</span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="yiv9092223479s2">I donāt have a big lovely front porch to put chairs on and decorate for seasons and sit on in the evenings</span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="yiv9092223479s2">We canāt afford a new car</span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="yiv9092223479s2">Joe is trying so hard to repair the dryer and dishwasher and they are still not quite there</span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="yiv9092223479s2">Joe is going out of town twice this month</span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="yiv9092223479s2">Friendships fade</span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="yiv9092223479s2">Noah is aging out of trick or treating </span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="yiv9092223479s2">I donāt play the banjo anymore</span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="yiv9092223479s2">I canāt have a carb free-for-all anymore</span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="yiv9092223479s2">The pumpkin patch costs so much to visit!!</span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="yiv9092223479s2">We canāt keep things close forever</span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="yiv9092223479s2">I left my wireless earbuds at home today</span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="yiv9092223479s2">The sun is already setting too soon</span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="yiv9092223479s2">Instagram took the sound off of some of my reels</span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="yiv9092223479s2">They keep growing up</span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="yiv9092223479s2">Quinnās betta fish kept dying</span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="yiv9092223479s2">Iām crabby when Iām hot</span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="yiv9092223479s2">Cross country didnāt ātakeā for Noah</span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="yiv9092223479s2">I never put Lucy in dance class or something like it</span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="yiv9092223479s2">I donāt think my kids have a ābestieā or tribe</span></span></li><li><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="yiv9092223479s2">I have so much āstuffā</span></span></li><li><span class="yiv9092223479s2"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Iām not good at gardening/yard work </span><br /></span></li></ul></div></div></div></div></div><p></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">See? Nothing earth-shattering.... Just little wishes and teeny regrets. Honestly, it's kind of nice to know that there's not anything really devastating on there. It speaks to a life that is mostly so very blessed. It's okay. And I'm okay. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-e1GxRn2Zs0jRl0eEa_naF8vAfprOavuR9BukX5p_msuHT6PHwXAVHCj-LeCD7rJ2C6W9DqewlDZSkCoCvQVs7IPwsVIMK5zacYV5RWLkYmhf893-2-powppHszDlF6-DqTEuklW90xzonD2NRroU0xR1LBvotrwltKdjMbLacq8yqr0Wq4Q/s2290/IMG_8405.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2290" data-original-width="2178" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-e1GxRn2Zs0jRl0eEa_naF8vAfprOavuR9BukX5p_msuHT6PHwXAVHCj-LeCD7rJ2C6W9DqewlDZSkCoCvQVs7IPwsVIMK5zacYV5RWLkYmhf893-2-powppHszDlF6-DqTEuklW90xzonD2NRroU0xR1LBvotrwltKdjMbLacq8yqr0Wq4Q/s320/IMG_8405.jpg" width="304" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #b45f06;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">*</span></span></b></span><br /></p>Emily S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10982103855213817116noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32430870.post-11544112060056055032022-09-23T09:50:00.000-05:002022-09-26T09:50:00.137-05:00Blogs Are For Photos, Too<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-family: georgia;">When I was actually blogging on the regular, photos were a massive part of that activity. This was a place to let the photos tell the story as much as the words. I don't know how much I still have in me to take and prep photos for this purpose.... I'm not even being as post-y on Instagram and Facebook recently... (Maybe that's something I need to dig into and think about. The "why"....)</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">But today is Friday, and even if you haven't seen a post-a-day, I HAVE sat down to type a little every day, and today felt like maybe we could do more photos than words, kind of an easing into the weekend.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">So in keeping with the overall slowdown of my blogging and posting, etc., I've also dropped down to a place where I almost NEVER take "everyday" photos with my real camera. The very capable and VERY convenient iPhone 12ProMax does the bulk of the work these days. And that's okay. Except that those photos aren't on my desktop computer, so it's not as easy as you'd think to just grab the week's photos and drop them in a blog post. It takes PLANNING. And waiting for things to upload, download, etc. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">But even if I was still taking lots of Big Camera photos and uploading them to this computer, there's still the endless dilemma of getting them over to Lightroom to cull them and edit them before they're ready for sharing. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> It's honestly kid of a lose-lose, at least in this passive blogging mindset I'm in right now. I need to think this whole thing through and decide what I want out of this blogging act. For the moment, I just wanted to get my rusty fingers typing again. But maybe I'll eventually want to get my rusty photo-posting to warm back up too. I dunno. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">What you are getting, therefore, is a very cute set of photos from spring, the last time I consciously took out my big camera to take photos of each of my kids individually and all together. I actually already have plans to do a new set of these this weekend, a Fall Edition, so it might be fun to see these now, and then compare them to the new ones I will get in the next few days. But for now.... here's what I have for you:</span><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">LARKIN, age 5.5</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB3MaU-LST6yKY-WfuKZDvihnRiizEGVtLDD9i5Ah-Bu2rs8aRgjvlVADaRD9NXAvB4dHcye46LT4THZVcfMKa0ohlY62IMzT2yMc28t45poz4vj-gWgqLf_wk85nEZunqmsf3my6y9SvpGrJcBylfC-wewfqYVcp9T_ylNUKxbXKFD_jRy9Q/s5472/7D7A0205%20copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB3MaU-LST6yKY-WfuKZDvihnRiizEGVtLDD9i5Ah-Bu2rs8aRgjvlVADaRD9NXAvB4dHcye46LT4THZVcfMKa0ohlY62IMzT2yMc28t45poz4vj-gWgqLf_wk85nEZunqmsf3my6y9SvpGrJcBylfC-wewfqYVcp9T_ylNUKxbXKFD_jRy9Q/s5472/7D7A0205%20copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYj4TeYcjnieQPnJ6qadGQ8EIIM5HZVW14wYDW5VBWaaCyC0Nw3URoWDaU30PMFjCJpXupOwqZokkHs9WlTf4yUjwaxD2NFb4R7hnOdKF8gMjyJ-QXE8Xlyivb0-YWsFBnWYvqnmGTxMVoHACXOs8siJz_jalhdpWpINNfYqzk40kQSPCeccs/s5472/7D7A0208%20copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5472" data-original-width="3648" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYj4TeYcjnieQPnJ6qadGQ8EIIM5HZVW14wYDW5VBWaaCyC0Nw3URoWDaU30PMFjCJpXupOwqZokkHs9WlTf4yUjwaxD2NFb4R7hnOdKF8gMjyJ-QXE8Xlyivb0-YWsFBnWYvqnmGTxMVoHACXOs8siJz_jalhdpWpINNfYqzk40kQSPCeccs/w426-h640/7D7A0208%20copy.jpg" width="426" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <img border="0" data-original-height="5472" data-original-width="3648" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB3MaU-LST6yKY-WfuKZDvihnRiizEGVtLDD9i5Ah-Bu2rs8aRgjvlVADaRD9NXAvB4dHcye46LT4THZVcfMKa0ohlY62IMzT2yMc28t45poz4vj-gWgqLf_wk85nEZunqmsf3my6y9SvpGrJcBylfC-wewfqYVcp9T_ylNUKxbXKFD_jRy9Q/w426-h640/7D7A0205%20copy.jpg" width="426" /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiThNnp7c88N9wp13bUHilVWAQpIl5Tq7qVydXUktllzmqSdPXFWvi_oOmg_yz28hbtnHINX6swfNYRDAeAm_cNMkQvmewt86PsjIY0-_-uEqWXR4mVSlYHhDx0irTdHGq-AEPmds0Bx8Hcc3JBN4GR7Aohjhdvz-_dxV-eWQ0ew3Wy73Rg_F0/s5472/7D7A0211%20copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5472" data-original-width="3648" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiThNnp7c88N9wp13bUHilVWAQpIl5Tq7qVydXUktllzmqSdPXFWvi_oOmg_yz28hbtnHINX6swfNYRDAeAm_cNMkQvmewt86PsjIY0-_-uEqWXR4mVSlYHhDx0irTdHGq-AEPmds0Bx8Hcc3JBN4GR7Aohjhdvz-_dxV-eWQ0ew3Wy73Rg_F0/w426-h640/7D7A0211%20copy.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHI8KvLblNQP7GU-KgBy74i7b9hWsTn_hDuPg7JlfPZcblm9zKRLcQsRUKRkrdR6S22rAF0Otilk9q3EQ7pNioIdRX7lD8hlNizGZpaSqzy7F2mHh563TE-SgXtU-i4Bx-2VdDxmmR6GhUDNZlwNGt1JFC6SreBuP8eNyzGgkuiiz0d_YKR8E/s5472/7D7A0216.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5472" data-original-width="3648" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHI8KvLblNQP7GU-KgBy74i7b9hWsTn_hDuPg7JlfPZcblm9zKRLcQsRUKRkrdR6S22rAF0Otilk9q3EQ7pNioIdRX7lD8hlNizGZpaSqzy7F2mHh563TE-SgXtU-i4Bx-2VdDxmmR6GhUDNZlwNGt1JFC6SreBuP8eNyzGgkuiiz0d_YKR8E/w426-h640/7D7A0216.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><p></p><p></p><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">QUINN, age 9</span></span><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg38E0XsKgQUgmEx4p-VQjY5ftxknAh1bocp0XlHf-uzgUh-20RdSsHXyQ6FPqI6X6XY9y6KnOHzohhh6GegbIA3shfsjJLduVnjF2BiB3-NEz7xrLEqozIxNFR8ZpD7z3BDyz2gUGJcT9M0agsjCPAVcZv8CaStg9-L1r33cS8gjrgPs0vJ6k/s5472/7D7A0228%20copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5472" data-original-width="3648" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg38E0XsKgQUgmEx4p-VQjY5ftxknAh1bocp0XlHf-uzgUh-20RdSsHXyQ6FPqI6X6XY9y6KnOHzohhh6GegbIA3shfsjJLduVnjF2BiB3-NEz7xrLEqozIxNFR8ZpD7z3BDyz2gUGJcT9M0agsjCPAVcZv8CaStg9-L1r33cS8gjrgPs0vJ6k/w426-h640/7D7A0228%20copy.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaCLT3W7KNyrRiSkHVzkFFFj2uH6CSRRUzJRW8nyOS0p4AJFB8RBLGfQ9fX-q0fDnq_E1l0JQbpn3gvWPx7GSmKq9ZO5-JFrccZ4XthtB6vYEsTyWFjY1WCo_RikjPei2VqgN2rGRKSIyjsdhp8lTz6eRDAnxkAjXQk_jhf3LCVbfVFbXSBvU/s5472/7D7A0230%20copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5472" data-original-width="3648" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaCLT3W7KNyrRiSkHVzkFFFj2uH6CSRRUzJRW8nyOS0p4AJFB8RBLGfQ9fX-q0fDnq_E1l0JQbpn3gvWPx7GSmKq9ZO5-JFrccZ4XthtB6vYEsTyWFjY1WCo_RikjPei2VqgN2rGRKSIyjsdhp8lTz6eRDAnxkAjXQk_jhf3LCVbfVFbXSBvU/w426-h640/7D7A0230%20copy.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgrEtVV5lsOd2EXQ9SF_957G-6inahiXBAss8P7YlyFiI3u7NNQ3GC8u5_68kdXGP9iYUElSoelC3oplRus0SeqWxsRF3txggC8V3irh-M--nMYcvJbAIHaHYk_o6FPGznwpBPIIO6OAPymCMWj6O_rzQAzM3_bTbD7Xtfje8LXVFmYa62lPw/s5472/7D7A0231%20copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5472" data-original-width="3648" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgrEtVV5lsOd2EXQ9SF_957G-6inahiXBAss8P7YlyFiI3u7NNQ3GC8u5_68kdXGP9iYUElSoelC3oplRus0SeqWxsRF3txggC8V3irh-M--nMYcvJbAIHaHYk_o6FPGznwpBPIIO6OAPymCMWj6O_rzQAzM3_bTbD7Xtfje8LXVFmYa62lPw/w426-h640/7D7A0231%20copy.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirQ-IhgQusUV7JcM29ZlacKGrlwMinFWzVI7Gcs9i2gTMqrjUf6XhavZFtI2qwcAPGczpJAniNUZwjI4Iku9bCJAdbBEQpxdbHyj_rjta79Xr9R_Jnx3RHuWWfpRGarnxC3KkswDC9BlxkVeJKXPAw5tXCV6vM1GdVfJYHGO9k5DQRZEXyx1k/s5760/7D7A0233%20copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5760" data-original-width="3840" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirQ-IhgQusUV7JcM29ZlacKGrlwMinFWzVI7Gcs9i2gTMqrjUf6XhavZFtI2qwcAPGczpJAniNUZwjI4Iku9bCJAdbBEQpxdbHyj_rjta79Xr9R_Jnx3RHuWWfpRGarnxC3KkswDC9BlxkVeJKXPAw5tXCV6vM1GdVfJYHGO9k5DQRZEXyx1k/w426-h640/7D7A0233%20copy.jpg" width="426" /></a></div> <p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">LUCY, age 11</span></span><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibWsWTyx5VjeFWxS3plOTW3GqeFl0qtME7bjajgoTiom5ZMufbx98dbDSBUfUcR9AnCVJ69GPyS7rnBlZErUu4PR51H4GVBp3ABGFJS6XJIaejNwJzvISwHYbK8HtsuoF-gIb-UTV1pGC_9gN2CEBq4qP5so-pd7UX889XmNE5QQJPJIoGYYw/s5472/7D7A0235%20copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5472" data-original-width="3648" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibWsWTyx5VjeFWxS3plOTW3GqeFl0qtME7bjajgoTiom5ZMufbx98dbDSBUfUcR9AnCVJ69GPyS7rnBlZErUu4PR51H4GVBp3ABGFJS6XJIaejNwJzvISwHYbK8HtsuoF-gIb-UTV1pGC_9gN2CEBq4qP5so-pd7UX889XmNE5QQJPJIoGYYw/w426-h640/7D7A0235%20copy.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUecFZLyz0DEiYidCrsQm-B-qfzdEDwkgauCTux_juoMStlfYozw6-wQxHliTFMRcuNjqS7u87DbvLNpFk7rFqy1tb72B6bNyLlaaOQHaAg4Kri_oOXdSewGDqF4vN9QdWWiFfkXHLJkg8Nkggo3v2q9OuCvn-s27jMyudgAL4IB0Ag8BcV2Q/s5472/7D7A0237%20copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5472" data-original-width="3648" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUecFZLyz0DEiYidCrsQm-B-qfzdEDwkgauCTux_juoMStlfYozw6-wQxHliTFMRcuNjqS7u87DbvLNpFk7rFqy1tb72B6bNyLlaaOQHaAg4Kri_oOXdSewGDqF4vN9QdWWiFfkXHLJkg8Nkggo3v2q9OuCvn-s27jMyudgAL4IB0Ag8BcV2Q/w426-h640/7D7A0237%20copy.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGNoGbNmC8PFJj5XPoZup00A4JDwtkcpgjNat3dGzDiGoLEZTkLzZZBrFgs9Z961MQsoTv22P2J-4ziTuoySdnJsZG8zOoRBKEm2CUY3__j13NLiwP35u_xDK3R7HdCvnzNdtAQcaz3n7IGeb03IaA0HCpp8rWRGdVIn1qGyx6t1OAJlu8bP0/s5472/7D7A0239%20copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5472" data-original-width="3648" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGNoGbNmC8PFJj5XPoZup00A4JDwtkcpgjNat3dGzDiGoLEZTkLzZZBrFgs9Z961MQsoTv22P2J-4ziTuoySdnJsZG8zOoRBKEm2CUY3__j13NLiwP35u_xDK3R7HdCvnzNdtAQcaz3n7IGeb03IaA0HCpp8rWRGdVIn1qGyx6t1OAJlu8bP0/w426-h640/7D7A0239%20copy.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEI46v_5XbE7NHeqRpRBieeZABOZXhL_GfTlG87hag9nGcxVLiR68EJLqJolD8pqiEl-7a1ufyim22X_o1M1MJGga9n78yB_MXG4xgNNPSZSvrqTaY1rJDrXNGeXX34JROKkpoRtPKEfvhebt1Sg7xG2K0rcEbbvE7msYjcIkg0pvQuVdRjg0/s5472/7D7A0242%20copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5472" data-original-width="3648" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEI46v_5XbE7NHeqRpRBieeZABOZXhL_GfTlG87hag9nGcxVLiR68EJLqJolD8pqiEl-7a1ufyim22X_o1M1MJGga9n78yB_MXG4xgNNPSZSvrqTaY1rJDrXNGeXX34JROKkpoRtPKEfvhebt1Sg7xG2K0rcEbbvE7msYjcIkg0pvQuVdRjg0/w426-h640/7D7A0242%20copy.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy3fTuztgkXjeNK1GVEYEjSJ3rGZERujYHZ_VMi_jrwgiH1r6riAPK-e10Jhl4amRtk_q36wODqAaHKLVdKHoXujPGmSwhhnb5lskbPaQ17fSlnDr4VSPSTw6EpW38aL8DKI2Iie4Cs0d-yQZXIi43OXsP2l7aEYwFrlS846VnVRk-NQ6eFF4/s5472/7D7A0244%20copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5472" data-original-width="3648" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy3fTuztgkXjeNK1GVEYEjSJ3rGZERujYHZ_VMi_jrwgiH1r6riAPK-e10Jhl4amRtk_q36wODqAaHKLVdKHoXujPGmSwhhnb5lskbPaQ17fSlnDr4VSPSTw6EpW38aL8DKI2Iie4Cs0d-yQZXIi43OXsP2l7aEYwFrlS846VnVRk-NQ6eFF4/w426-h640/7D7A0244%20copy.jpg" width="426" /></a></div> <p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">NOAH </span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: small;">(and Fiona)</span></span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">, age 14.5 </span></span><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyMaNxHrHSQEGIj-kDSh2Ee4qQ4CtFvTkF9EG9WqAWT0Q55-COkpGPoDxdxYZOagGvT4nrA2y4iVFDGG8UigYVMxob4mZI7EE0cYrXVM1I74nXxHvjMZK2NVOCuwfwXSOplrtzgR18OD2ppNhcfrDypX3J9aiUrJgp6Ct9vzL4MfuCkg2PCIQ/s5472/7D7A0246%20copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5472" data-original-width="3648" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyMaNxHrHSQEGIj-kDSh2Ee4qQ4CtFvTkF9EG9WqAWT0Q55-COkpGPoDxdxYZOagGvT4nrA2y4iVFDGG8UigYVMxob4mZI7EE0cYrXVM1I74nXxHvjMZK2NVOCuwfwXSOplrtzgR18OD2ppNhcfrDypX3J9aiUrJgp6Ct9vzL4MfuCkg2PCIQ/w426-h640/7D7A0246%20copy.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrK1g5KVwaoK-D0losPlDCKln0uRqisiYzKky-pzHxiicfvoF5WZcO56H3hxHC8WNq6XJL93AHNReD7mw6-ol1ucAcZAt3kfefxcqIsvMFXuwgN2WHUm8NTBnZlqxBDuvZUFdDd2eRy-uS6i9GzwVUPeWNq0M7hjWbUPM4hq_rz5PjrTfMUjs/s5472/7D7A0248%20copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5472" data-original-width="3648" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrK1g5KVwaoK-D0losPlDCKln0uRqisiYzKky-pzHxiicfvoF5WZcO56H3hxHC8WNq6XJL93AHNReD7mw6-ol1ucAcZAt3kfefxcqIsvMFXuwgN2WHUm8NTBnZlqxBDuvZUFdDd2eRy-uS6i9GzwVUPeWNq0M7hjWbUPM4hq_rz5PjrTfMUjs/w426-h640/7D7A0248%20copy.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_e1dcleGAP289c495MqQjymSwzoWhRRdEtP-W5QzMFpxAr8okiVBwrwFedw4gmVfY4Ji6y0wQA-CDfRKr52QPt0Od7bO77e3Z1XAY-UPanwslGJzPIcsLqTnJcy73AiJjit9wKo7KbX901ebkzZ9tqQTFpbG_4o9F2g2tF26woeU42986h54/s5472/7D7A0250%20copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5472" data-original-width="3648" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_e1dcleGAP289c495MqQjymSwzoWhRRdEtP-W5QzMFpxAr8okiVBwrwFedw4gmVfY4Ji6y0wQA-CDfRKr52QPt0Od7bO77e3Z1XAY-UPanwslGJzPIcsLqTnJcy73AiJjit9wKo7KbX901ebkzZ9tqQTFpbG_4o9F2g2tF26woeU42986h54/w426-h640/7D7A0250%20copy.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1B-_rjztJL88FWe2DJT6BsOa8jbRli3jr3e-zU25OB7BCIWJDRR5uLqHfAa6OsxybwMPhLth39b3pa-SjzmVC0najIB00QHEvkCAy5fksDtso_-xe5zo36kxGIP_g3lwk6UU_CaX8xJhfc5L_H4hjVRPTgscLmiTgHNorVbu1Zt2bG6zTT5g/s5472/7D7A0253%20copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5472" data-original-width="3648" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1B-_rjztJL88FWe2DJT6BsOa8jbRli3jr3e-zU25OB7BCIWJDRR5uLqHfAa6OsxybwMPhLth39b3pa-SjzmVC0najIB00QHEvkCAy5fksDtso_-xe5zo36kxGIP_g3lwk6UU_CaX8xJhfc5L_H4hjVRPTgscLmiTgHNorVbu1Zt2bG6zTT5g/w426-h640/7D7A0253%20copy.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> The Whole Gang</span></span><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG3kwBfHpTGYgC6CmBl-NVYEFnGUFqNA4ZQpmwrgQtBO9-qfs93ZN6vBUwGOC2CuAaA_EfrCIelYMliQafJPejE0B5jnfLov7yAKVvU-Qf30mvzd4rBEuxhAZ9diI8OXGo9zaZaNERUi4yJECukKa8t3e9HjNzGgygzc98zbJ3SqkS4OBrZIw/s5472/7D7A0227%20copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5472" data-original-width="3648" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG3kwBfHpTGYgC6CmBl-NVYEFnGUFqNA4ZQpmwrgQtBO9-qfs93ZN6vBUwGOC2CuAaA_EfrCIelYMliQafJPejE0B5jnfLov7yAKVvU-Qf30mvzd4rBEuxhAZ9diI8OXGo9zaZaNERUi4yJECukKa8t3e9HjNzGgygzc98zbJ3SqkS4OBrZIw/w426-h640/7D7A0227%20copy.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4kpZwd21HhpuWSvH5LsyJ4nNjkrtSmOl0xilOuOpUiB4zC2tF2gE_pLCIWRGktlAuazsHXTmPeAExqsJi1bH9vva7lhFdHEAURWo_uv4OjKFVT5rgV2G2A-3xBOmeIvYyXX9WccdzcrN77vwnkaWr5N8zPxfAoH6wzVLqXg4OuCAGUk9gV_A/s5472/7D7A0222.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5472" data-original-width="3648" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4kpZwd21HhpuWSvH5LsyJ4nNjkrtSmOl0xilOuOpUiB4zC2tF2gE_pLCIWRGktlAuazsHXTmPeAExqsJi1bH9vva7lhFdHEAURWo_uv4OjKFVT5rgV2G2A-3xBOmeIvYyXX9WccdzcrN77vwnkaWr5N8zPxfAoH6wzVLqXg4OuCAGUk9gV_A/w426-h640/7D7A0222.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">That's it. I got some typing in, I gave y'all some photos.... It's officially the weekend as far as this blog is concerned. Byeeeee!!</span><br /></p>Emily S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10982103855213817116noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32430870.post-74661255093236562842022-09-21T09:31:00.005-05:002022-09-21T15:20:09.515-05:00Q&A: If Money and Time Were No Object, Where is One Place On Earth You Would Love to Visit?<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJXdX4b9uW6UNM2AiBAV47O_UsG4aBN98m9NJQRFwfWrErn8eXPW-0dfMDzSwWIWRLw53Vpap4oAkv1P_xuvOPQdJiWY8VIKIMKNIAFbxETDhu5YEUdsjRvB572Qiw3oEuBAuRTkHEO5ssgkJO4hrSKv2zlVbZNzNZ_fUJzwMc80YGq3yj304/s1800/1%6069.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1800" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJXdX4b9uW6UNM2AiBAV47O_UsG4aBN98m9NJQRFwfWrErn8eXPW-0dfMDzSwWIWRLw53Vpap4oAkv1P_xuvOPQdJiWY8VIKIMKNIAFbxETDhu5YEUdsjRvB572Qiw3oEuBAuRTkHEO5ssgkJO4hrSKv2zlVbZNzNZ_fUJzwMc80YGq3yj304/w640-h426/1%6069.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> <span style="font-size: large;">Q: If money and time were no object, where is one place on
earth you would love to visit? Why are you intrigued by that place?</span><p></p><p>My first answer to this is always Italy. I blame "Return to Me" for this yearning in me, to immerse myself in an Italian city, to spend a good long time there, time enough to get to know the good bakeries and shops, time enough to have a sizable set of Italian phrases I might use without trying too hard. </p><p>If you don't remember "Return to Me", the heroine of the film was born with a heart condition that made most of her life a sickly, homebound one. She was an artist who would make her art right there in her own backyard, but who yearned to one day get to Italy to study the masters and to grow her talent in the old world. Eventually, after a heart transplant, she makes it there, and the cinematography is exquisite-- shots of the most idyllic cobbled streets, nuns on bikes, abundant pots and window boxes of flowers. Sunshine. Old stone. Tile floors. Balconies. HEAVEN. </p><p></p><p>So yes-- if money and time were no object, I would take my family and spend a year in Rome. I would find an apartment with a balcony or two, and we would spend the year exploring, learning, practicing art and music (no need to be GOOD at either... just to show up to do both.)... and trying new foods and learning new words. We could take small trips around the country to visit Pompeii, Florence, Lake Como, Pisa, and of course Venice. I would take a million photos. Maybe even offer my services as a family photographer while there... so other tourists (and locals if they deigned) could have amazing images of their families in these beautiful streets. </p><p>I've already been to Italy. Joe and I saved up to go back in 2006, when we were still basically newlyweds, and it was a glorious trip. But having been there once doesn't dull the edge of my desire to be there again. If I could go anywhere on Earth, the answer would still be Italy. </p><p>What about you, five readers of this blog post? I want to hear your answer! </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu7BNKnS5RicrWpZyP91V5rVkBePSqT1mn6ZSgRFMjIifj3XCC4aEhpLrEdJ63OYbAnRVa0DLzHMZCfKp6sBmBOUk4Yi2dMnZQfmj6jkz--NgXGBHIei3LDn65gJxfBCTSeP92I6LDQRn9dHe8sObqee9pw1SJYOCpvOchGSSjB_Iol3ORtuA/s1200/1%6070.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="900" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu7BNKnS5RicrWpZyP91V5rVkBePSqT1mn6ZSgRFMjIifj3XCC4aEhpLrEdJ63OYbAnRVa0DLzHMZCfKp6sBmBOUk4Yi2dMnZQfmj6jkz--NgXGBHIei3LDn65gJxfBCTSeP92I6LDQRn9dHe8sObqee9pw1SJYOCpvOchGSSjB_Iol3ORtuA/w480-h640/1%6070.jpg" width="480" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3otjWvf4S4CDjZg80CnE81b4skoneycmrj-iC30Ny_81aE8iGiSkf9XLZVoKSuEo0YLfDZeEjF3glLJAxaa2UcrubyoGQNcxi0hef6A2TeOCHWP3rjhME6u8Hgjiyq8bbtwdVMmfu9q43XL8Dd-vvDawSosR2gsws20gXsJ3SpZj7r1QG7OU/s1200/1%6016.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="900" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3otjWvf4S4CDjZg80CnE81b4skoneycmrj-iC30Ny_81aE8iGiSkf9XLZVoKSuEo0YLfDZeEjF3glLJAxaa2UcrubyoGQNcxi0hef6A2TeOCHWP3rjhME6u8Hgjiyq8bbtwdVMmfu9q43XL8Dd-vvDawSosR2gsws20gXsJ3SpZj7r1QG7OU/w480-h640/1%6016.jpg" width="480" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div></div><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="600" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJvmflT9XLFaHDBffaczziWNx1lgPxJT31amH_x3H6-lG-bUIwv6A4qt8g-4R4-S8fCx5qPpso2CpCkqaZWL_nYw-YmTV9dYWIEBpUHpYxLQFkH5eBORTfq7IE8wNVanLOyzXiroBtRGd1efpDRuXtHhtTHLxR9vt2qyJZVQHVtifzdgp4-Mw/w480-h640/1%60143.jpg" width="480" /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="432" data-original-width="324" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs_ubWxbQiERP41CHkYGFvAjfkaMWtemgR6C_n1eu68AxQR5puww0-PH-h2NJNOr2BV41f1bEsFPFB_6ZtGpUcyS-mI8lP3wrKiYfcmf-c9Tx1kOWEDsErtSq4P_SODsrkF6G_AuRA1-fHQaRPfi0WrbOFIkTT5NBJbR-qm0LWsPTwLhVM5ro/w480-h640/%23peek%20a%20boo.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br />Emily S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10982103855213817116noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32430870.post-38032140325151673172022-09-19T10:31:00.001-05:002022-09-19T10:31:05.012-05:00CRAB.<p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> I don't have photos for you. I thought about trying to upload some for a tiny second, then I thought about maybe going and TAKING a few, and then I just.... closed the photo window and cam back here. Sorry. No photos. I just can't even. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">This whole last week has been a MASSIVE </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">CAN'T EVEN. </span></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I tested positive for Covid last Tuesday. So awesome. I'd had a raspy voice the day before, and I'd gotten an email for my choir warning that there had been several reported positive cases from our practice the week prior, so the combo of those two clues led me to test, just in case. And even though I really didn't expect it to actually be Covid, it was.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">It's not my first go-round. After successfully avoiding the damned thing for all of 2020 and 2021, our whole family got it in January this year. It ended up being pretty perfectly timed-- it happened AFTER my trip to NYC and BEFORE our trip to Hawaii, so neither trip had to be cancelled. And the Covid we all got was verrrry mild. More of a nuisance than anything. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">So this time around, I kind of knew what to expect, and the only upside to this past week's bout of Covid was that it was as mild as last time. I lost my voice, but didn't have a sore throat. I had a headache but no fever. I sometimes sneezed, and sometimes had a drippy nose, but no real congestion. And here at the end of it, I have a tiny, annoying, occasional dry cough. Nothing major. Nothing debilitating. I'm not even profoundly fatigued like many had reported feeling at the end of their round of Covid. So ultimately, the issue with this whole past week has been the DISRUPTION of life. The worrying about who else was going to get it in my family (spoiler: NO ONE ELSE HAS GOTTEN IT. Whaaa??). And the waiting til I was cleared to get back to life again. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"> Don't get me wrong-- it was pretty nice to clock out of most of the adulting I normally have to do, and the self-inflicted to-do list always running in my head. I loved getting to take random naps just because. I loved having an excuse to let my kids just buy their lunches all week instead of making lunches at home. It felt great to just.... STOP. Stop lots of things.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">But also... there was a steady undercurrent of CRABBINESS the entire week. I actually was already feeling irritable the day before I got the positive test. Getting that Covid diagnosis just gave my crabbiness an excuse to stick around. And here we are, a full week later, and I'm still just.....</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Annoyed. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">At things. At people. At myself. At piles of stuff. At the STUPID INCREASE IN TEMPERATURE back to the 90's this week (gosh I HATE being hot.). At anything anyone requests of me. At my hair. At dishes and crumbs. At my bra. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I think the scowl on my face is fossilizing into something permanent. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Last night as I took a stupid walk in the stupid humidity after the sun went down, I thought to check my period tracking app, and sure enough--- I'm 7 days out from my next period. So I guess some of this is PMS. But I think it's a combo of all of it: being sick. Being inconvenienced, restless, and worried from being sick. And now being hormonal and MUGGY HOT on top of it all. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">So yeah. I can't even. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Hopefully I'm nearing the end of this crabfest..... Because it is not my natural state of being and I'm worn out from it. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Okay bye.</span><br /></p>Emily S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10982103855213817116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32430870.post-83527466575340323592022-09-07T09:26:00.001-05:002022-09-07T09:26:20.561-05:00A Random List Of Things From Way Back When<p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizf9o0Q0W8e1DmFbDWsB59R6-qudp_I6X6INT50I2fWb0pbifUCO4feK1wB2R2vWEbc2uGkMpaT4qP3VQyadNS8Xmdhd-GxWgQk497USbbToUwFNg7U6GonCo9plfxbzim6TdbHLn4bEoWVmsfTRnfWmE7xjhQNc7K9CUcP6FMoPlpgPZEZC8/s2136/1983%20Emily%20First%20Grade.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2136" data-original-width="1512" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizf9o0Q0W8e1DmFbDWsB59R6-qudp_I6X6INT50I2fWb0pbifUCO4feK1wB2R2vWEbc2uGkMpaT4qP3VQyadNS8Xmdhd-GxWgQk497USbbToUwFNg7U6GonCo9plfxbzim6TdbHLn4bEoWVmsfTRnfWmE7xjhQNc7K9CUcP6FMoPlpgPZEZC8/w453-h640/1983%20Emily%20First%20Grade.jpg" width="453" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: courier;">me, first grade</span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table> </p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">1. When I was in 6th grade, I got a whole cookie jar of Hershey Kisses as a birthday gift from a friend, with a custom cross-stitched Hershey Kiss lid. It felt like the biggest jackpot. <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">2. We used to live down the street from two old, unfenced, informal country road cemeteries. One was more visible and obvious, on a grassy hill. The other was smaller, tucked further back, and among old, tall trees. We used to go to them regularly and play among the tombstones. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">3. I learned about New Kids on the Block from Becca Stock when we were Volunteens at Boone Hospital the summer before 7th grade. She was already obsessed and brought me into the fold quite reality. That summer as a Volunteen has a whole set of memories that are coming up as I type this... the break room, the cafeteria, the candy cart, the gift shop, teen magazines, deciding to be locker partners for the next year... there was a whole FEEL to it that is washing over me as I remember. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">4. For a while, we had a "library" in our house. A whole room dedicated to bookshelves and books. We were in a pretty humble home, living a pretty humble life, so it always felt so FANCY to have a DEDICATED LIBRARY. I'm not sure how long we kept the room that way, but it couldn't have been long, since there were lots of us and we could use the room for an actual bedroom. Funny-- my parents are back to having a library room again, all these years later. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">5. I got a little toy gumball machine as a birthday gift when I was somewhere between 7-10 years old. It was a bank, so you had to put coins in to get the gumballs, and I was charmed by this for the first little while. But I was an impatient and greedy little girl, and I tired of the "rules" (and probably ran out of coins?) and I wanted MORE GUM, so when no one was looking, I threw the thing onto the ground out in my backyard to break it open. It worked, and for a split second I felt victorious... but almost immediately felt profound remorse and shame at the act. I don't even remember gathering the gumballs up... I just remember how it felt to regret such a dumb decision. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">6. My first grade teacher was Carol Crego, and she was a total gem of a woman. She was close to grandma-age when she taught me, and she had grown children and three cats. She was the most lovable human to all her little students. So it made complete sense to me during summer break, when it was almost my birthday, to invite her to my birthday party. She politely declined-- I'm sure she knew it would a little weird to be the one grownup guest among a bunch of 6-year-old kids-- but she got permission from my parents to take me to McDonalds for lunch on a different day to celebrate my birthday, and she brought me a small teddy bear wearing a yellow rubber crown who I named Mrs. Crego. Such a special thing for her to do for the student that lovingly, innocently invited her to a child's birthday party. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">7. One time when I was somewhere between the ages of 10-12, I accidentally broke a glass thermometer and when I was cleaning the mess up, I was able to "capture" and save the ball of mercury. I was FASCINATED and put the glob of it on a handheld mirror I had and played with the mercury for hours--- splitting it, watching it bead back together, skittering across the mirror, stopped only by the plastic edges of the frame of the mirror. I think I finally lost it when I tilted the mirror too far and it slid all the way off and under my bed somewhere among the dust bunnies. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">8. I was art rivals with Chris Dietz in 3rd grade. We both wanted to be the best draw-er in class and we competed endlessly with each other. I learned to draw Garfield during this rivalry as one way to try to best him. He and I also entered more than one poster contest that year in our quest to prove our superiority to each other. I couldn't tell you, ultimately, who was better. Probably it was a tie. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">9. Hello to Elise, the best kids sister, who somehow still keeps up with blogs and has NOTICED that I'm blogging again. WOW! </span><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Rb67cBsjx9-8ObERFJc3C1pWnOcCpPzYr5pyeXsYvO46tayCxU0sUEnPTsw8lx9oAvkZj3Bte5wv4BbSC0MHhTM4RTZ_zmd0CeycbwzmfuT7sxVPu4TOZvN7RlEeV4Czdo9xUDoZpb6KBEZTcp2iKUlfI7NZZBFMcdgF__egLRL8E3XkL60/s965/1985%20Emily%20birthday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="883" data-original-width="965" height="586" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Rb67cBsjx9-8ObERFJc3C1pWnOcCpPzYr5pyeXsYvO46tayCxU0sUEnPTsw8lx9oAvkZj3Bte5wv4BbSC0MHhTM4RTZ_zmd0CeycbwzmfuT7sxVPu4TOZvN7RlEeV4Czdo9xUDoZpb6KBEZTcp2iKUlfI7NZZBFMcdgF__egLRL8E3XkL60/w640-h586/1985%20Emily%20birthday.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: courier;">me, third grade</span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></p>Emily S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10982103855213817116noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32430870.post-9080256224069124462022-08-30T11:48:00.005-05:002022-08-30T11:49:38.654-05:00Now We Are Six: Larkin Clementine<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir2TH2d1wA8WL1XN_0AIdpgYwydhWcYm4E_vfu44gytDQb3zBCO3SVnaN-aEkYZ18N171POen6rxxrCIdIFXEwVaBQjWUBTsLcK358EuZQxHLmhmaNNiSXdKTuByYwBK4FNC1mfoOYiSKmONz8AT7cmDTP_aYmK_vDfbnsqMRcmpulfRzAkZg/s5760/7D7A1770%20copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5760" data-original-width="3840" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir2TH2d1wA8WL1XN_0AIdpgYwydhWcYm4E_vfu44gytDQb3zBCO3SVnaN-aEkYZ18N171POen6rxxrCIdIFXEwVaBQjWUBTsLcK358EuZQxHLmhmaNNiSXdKTuByYwBK4FNC1mfoOYiSKmONz8AT7cmDTP_aYmK_vDfbnsqMRcmpulfRzAkZg/w426-h640/7D7A1770%20copy.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDLi2kbW_cYA0IWd0pdcaXlb7lSo_wxOx9Mf89aI4uPwKNWqpX_4vMTirmmR1PCGjMhyazG5BbSQvK7mdc3R_1W8GA3bh5NE0KFyvneHu-L91sQa3X3AyEl0Na7c1jLOhyyzgEkzOBXRU92HDVEquN27SzywW5vPnwxwlSPfHDmWaIZiQnie8/s2700/7D7A1766-m-copy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="1800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDLi2kbW_cYA0IWd0pdcaXlb7lSo_wxOx9Mf89aI4uPwKNWqpX_4vMTirmmR1PCGjMhyazG5BbSQvK7mdc3R_1W8GA3bh5NE0KFyvneHu-L91sQa3X3AyEl0Na7c1jLOhyyzgEkzOBXRU92HDVEquN27SzywW5vPnwxwlSPfHDmWaIZiQnie8/w426-h640/7D7A1766-m-copy.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilUsarvMXSm8rrfLVAoGf6WQl_1StM6SwrMUQzWgzERHuEpDqtO1NZzncESUDcAUXHtgIjsJUa4c80iUOlS6JmgKqVgm1nuPaI2PSQo5KQY6CSgYnu4tUqeW_c2i8e4K-7c6tprCLyWWEOm_ah-KBZERC92uxFKnf20iBQtqOheuyES0Ac1lg/s2700/7D7A1772-copy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="1800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilUsarvMXSm8rrfLVAoGf6WQl_1StM6SwrMUQzWgzERHuEpDqtO1NZzncESUDcAUXHtgIjsJUa4c80iUOlS6JmgKqVgm1nuPaI2PSQo5KQY6CSgYnu4tUqeW_c2i8e4K-7c6tprCLyWWEOm_ah-KBZERC92uxFKnf20iBQtqOheuyES0Ac1lg/w426-h640/7D7A1772-copy.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAOZWrOm26Q5oXeMjleFJb4C3c-LohXDdVr856VvLx0M8pvNbxP2WyZPuEgQe7Bm2ZS1s9GDAD4UCoyi4_chd9zGAvGtp2V22egGwzdyohTLZorChQXk2grCHuGEvOxSJ9K6m3awuaF22xVG2mz2bj3sdw42KuQvjr2sxWrqNkVINDj7HhqCk/s2700/7D7A1776-copy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="1800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAOZWrOm26Q5oXeMjleFJb4C3c-LohXDdVr856VvLx0M8pvNbxP2WyZPuEgQe7Bm2ZS1s9GDAD4UCoyi4_chd9zGAvGtp2V22egGwzdyohTLZorChQXk2grCHuGEvOxSJ9K6m3awuaF22xVG2mz2bj3sdw42KuQvjr2sxWrqNkVINDj7HhqCk/w426-h640/7D7A1776-copy.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHH4mtsrB_9KLfN7TxLRyRakuYX97SzeCFQ1mnOMLpTs7eoLvMVbDk0DSc-I25jFBv5HgDcNCIU615Fa-uRtVOdgLNkmq3LWDXexbkH__G87OJTZSNWF5RRm8-Y3HfgGOJBR5ff2NWKqrCYw8YMy14-Af8ptmWNGvtuHmgIX31PXgUKu4yXI0/s2700/7D7A1781-copy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="1800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHH4mtsrB_9KLfN7TxLRyRakuYX97SzeCFQ1mnOMLpTs7eoLvMVbDk0DSc-I25jFBv5HgDcNCIU615Fa-uRtVOdgLNkmq3LWDXexbkH__G87OJTZSNWF5RRm8-Y3HfgGOJBR5ff2NWKqrCYw8YMy14-Af8ptmWNGvtuHmgIX31PXgUKu4yXI0/w426-h640/7D7A1781-copy.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDejuosDWg0-74Zdn3XuzyeYwA4f26Q8Vk1R1lK07ReKbuZf9DvAU7pytmgbQmlTUhhN4N5PoOt-EIKd8PWbrE1N5Ug-F7C6gG0vTdrTGUQ1jM2lv8RvV5XXKFfGsaVyW7sAkbQCK43Ot3BTzw_fZPTkiPTN5JGfHTjlwICktZFhTbOSqeogI/s2700/7D7A1784-bw-copy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="1800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDejuosDWg0-74Zdn3XuzyeYwA4f26Q8Vk1R1lK07ReKbuZf9DvAU7pytmgbQmlTUhhN4N5PoOt-EIKd8PWbrE1N5Ug-F7C6gG0vTdrTGUQ1jM2lv8RvV5XXKFfGsaVyW7sAkbQCK43Ot3BTzw_fZPTkiPTN5JGfHTjlwICktZFhTbOSqeogI/w426-h640/7D7A1784-bw-copy.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje4q4BE2b85RmqmI_Kpeo4UwWkmNm7YXofJKwA2LEMTNhuAuQEUdobnfdr4ivN2Mkdp6iGd4BE7GbUsFdrcqXBgl-aqvrkpp0Y-YOvZXguTgp3p59wHhd0lK0WgNrvW16MPCcmhBm3e6jPnX4yK15mSkCb55nZ4BuyZUJVl9FL_lJF-LSlB5U/s2700/7D7A1788-copy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2700" data-original-width="1800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje4q4BE2b85RmqmI_Kpeo4UwWkmNm7YXofJKwA2LEMTNhuAuQEUdobnfdr4ivN2Mkdp6iGd4BE7GbUsFdrcqXBgl-aqvrkpp0Y-YOvZXguTgp3p59wHhd0lK0WgNrvW16MPCcmhBm3e6jPnX4yK15mSkCb55nZ4BuyZUJVl9FL_lJF-LSlB5U/w427-h640/7D7A1788-copy.jpg" width="427" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Now We Are Six</span></div>
<div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></div>
<div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">When I was One,<br />I had just begun.<br />When I was Two,<br />I was nearly new.<br />When I was Three<br />I was hardly me.<br />When I was Four,<br />I was not much more.<br />When I was Five, </span></div>
<div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I was just alive.<br />But now I am Six, </span></div>
<div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I'm as clever as clever,<br />So I think I'll be six now </span></div>
<div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">for ever and ever. </span></div>
<div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></div>
<div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">A.A. Milne</span></div><div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></div><div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">*</span></span></span></div><div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></div><div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">My baby, as clever as clever, is blossoming into a big kid, and it's amazing to watch. Of course there is a tender spot in my heart right now remembering all the baby magic, all the toddler shenanigans, every incredible, darling, sweet piece of her from her birth day til today....</span></div><div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">But it's worth that natsukashii to keep having the gift of watching her grow day after day. It's worth the missing of the younger years to get to have the older years with her. </span></div><div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Larkin is magic. Always has been. Always will be. And my life is richer because she is my daughter. </span></div><div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Have a BEAUTIFUL 6th year, my love!</span></div><div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div><div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #ea9999;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">*</span></span><br /></span></div>
<div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div>Emily S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10982103855213817116noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32430870.post-82599749319756196652022-08-26T09:32:00.001-05:002022-08-26T09:32:43.190-05:00Back To School 2022-23<p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5XyAXoU12EuEMyveVHfhFnUt_X81ullvtQKTmnktzh_Zxzso9mze_6Ygi_Cu0SmBWRWq2mAJTwazEEyJOhNd9VB24Te16pz5r6-WFkLT32ldZgJCzj7WPGPtiW21W3_NasKMJNZN0aoh0mXabmKX1zeaKcoRMYvuHbNq1RKzfq6P1IRTJ1Tw/s1440/IMG_7462.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5XyAXoU12EuEMyveVHfhFnUt_X81ullvtQKTmnktzh_Zxzso9mze_6Ygi_Cu0SmBWRWq2mAJTwazEEyJOhNd9VB24Te16pz5r6-WFkLT32ldZgJCzj7WPGPtiW21W3_NasKMJNZN0aoh0mXabmKX1zeaKcoRMYvuHbNq1RKzfq6P1IRTJ1Tw/w640-h640/IMG_7462.jpg" width="640" /> </a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-9_8rfN4yAs6P7ySKnopi1bEIzUU6TG1Kui6HYuT7aqLmZTPNMqbiJrpo5JqfGQTDn9AAWqtItLPKR8JId9aGHqTnyIYlAC9XqDewCwQokW_NQ5ObtmXla0RJ03KU4HOsNoDH5BmFQ-arIAHo_r6bH7bPyRZ16RkkgPfwbsTYZp5UxJkOPJM/s1503/IMG_7432.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="807" data-original-width="1503" height="344" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-9_8rfN4yAs6P7ySKnopi1bEIzUU6TG1Kui6HYuT7aqLmZTPNMqbiJrpo5JqfGQTDn9AAWqtItLPKR8JId9aGHqTnyIYlAC9XqDewCwQokW_NQ5ObtmXla0RJ03KU4HOsNoDH5BmFQ-arIAHo_r6bH7bPyRZ16RkkgPfwbsTYZp5UxJkOPJM/w640-h344/IMG_7432.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /> It's the last day of their first week back to school, and I KNOW they are wiped out. But man... they've really done okay!! With three of my four kids entering a brand new school this year, there is a lot of extra burden on them to get comfortable, familiar, and confident in their new normal... and they're doing it! </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Noah, first-time high schooler, has a rigorous daily schedule-- beginning with his first year of early morning seminary (6:00am-6:50am), ending with hot, hard workout in cross-country practice every afternoon (3:30-5:00pm), and all honors classes in between. He has all the potential he needs to succeed, but he's going to need a lot of love and support and encouragement to keep going when it gets hard. And it WILL get hard. He's amazing, though, and I think this is going to be an important year for him on his journey to adulthood. I cannot wait to see how this shapes him-- every part of it!<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Lucy, first-time middle-schooler, has to fight a deep and omnipresent anxiety as she learns how to do school in this new, class-to-class way. She and I did a lot of prep work to get her ready-- walking her schedule, practicing her lock, talking about ways she can cope with difficult moments, places and people she can go to if it threatens to overwhelm her entirely. She has a team of helpers I feel so confident in and grateful for-- her school counselor, her 6th grade Blue hall teachers, and especially her special education teachers. She has a caseworker/mentor who she gets to go work with every afternoon for the last 10 minutes of the day, as a way to wrap up the day and double-check her planner, compile her needed papers and assignments, and just check in with as to how the day has gone. This is AMAZING on so many levels. It helps corral her ADHD, gives her an anchor for her anxiety, and teaches her executive functioning skills that will serve her forever. And this teacher is SO nurturing-- just what Lucy needs in this more fast-paced new school environment. And at the end of this first week, while there have been a couple of hiccups and some tears, I would say that 85% of it has been very positive and successful. Lucy is going to get the hang of this and she is going to do so well. I believe in her! </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Quinn is somehow a FOURTH grader, and the only kiddo who gets to return to the same school he knows and loves. He is going to have such a good year. He is so smart, so consistent, and so good-natured. I feel like I don't give him enough credit. Last year he almost never brought anything home, so I didn't really think about what he was working on-- I just trusted his teacher and saw that he was thriving and growing, an that was enough. Earlier this week, though, I finally went through my big box of piled-up schoolwork they all brought home at the end of the school year last spring, and Quin had SO MUCH work in that stack. It was like seeing an entire year's worth of knowledge, effort and growth in one day. I suddenly realized just how much hard work he was doing every day in that classroom. Steady. Strong. Smart. I'm so grateful for that accidental insight. I feel like I have a better picture of who this kid is, and I know he will just keep getting wiser and more dedicated throughout this 4th grade year. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Larkin, feisty new kindergartner, has been ready for this for YEARS. Watching her siblings get on the bus without her, year after year, she is SO HAPPY it's finally her turn. She had an incredible year last year in preschool, and her sweet teacher said that if she could have a Larkin in her class every year, she'd never retire. Larkin is smart, kind, aware, excited, and creative, and all of this will serve her so well in kindergarten as she expands what she already knows. Music and art, library and PE, on top of all the cool things she'll do in her classroom... This kid is going to thrive!!! </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">And me? Okay, I miss having them around. A little. I definitely miss having a buddy to spend the day with and to keep me company on errands. But. I AM LOVING THIS NEW LIFE SO MUCH HOLY COW. Just now as I've been typing this, I have earbuds in and I'm listening to the most beautiful classical and choral music, and I'm just singing along, adding random harmonies.... loud as I want to.... No one to interrupt or for whom I should have at least one ear available to listen for in case of problems or food requests, etc. I am writing a BLOG POST, for pete's sake. I just took a 1+ mile walk with an audiobook to keep me company. I have a backlog of projects I am finally beginning. I did a newborn session during the week and didn't even need to think about babysitters. I can tackle work emails during the day. I'm going to go have lunchdates with sisters and friends now and then. I feel my well filling and it feels incredible. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">So yes. New year. VERY new experiences for most of us. And so much opportunity ahead for all of us. I feel ready for what lies ahead. here we go!</span></p>Emily S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10982103855213817116noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32430870.post-38642798478059556272022-07-19T23:32:00.001-05:002022-07-19T23:32:34.820-05:00Brain Dump July 2022<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieeVQms-MuOBLoAIfY24Asa6Zv0aiDDbMuqrgZZWyg2XKKhGKjDLwM8_BeviOZtb5HiXYM9ig1QL8kTjwjIO4-Jmgi_y3xpVYujvlD7QRsY_d5lGxf18qpKvnTIDk0FoVMfUeKYhSwsqt_IU23nvmawKAMba6GT4qbsTFB-APcyT0jalNcENA/s3088/image0(3).jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2316" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieeVQms-MuOBLoAIfY24Asa6Zv0aiDDbMuqrgZZWyg2XKKhGKjDLwM8_BeviOZtb5HiXYM9ig1QL8kTjwjIO4-Jmgi_y3xpVYujvlD7QRsY_d5lGxf18qpKvnTIDk0FoVMfUeKYhSwsqt_IU23nvmawKAMba6GT4qbsTFB-APcyT0jalNcENA/w300-h400/image0(3).jpeg" width="300" /></a></div> <p></p><p>It's late on a Tuesday night and I find myself with a restless general anxiety in my stomach... a strange hunger for growth suddenly... an uncomfortable sense of things I should begin doing, small habits I've not been doing for a long time. I'm not sure why now, why here... But I'm sitting with it. I'm googling ideas. I'm jotting notes down as they fly into my head, a stack of red post-its in front of me with lists of photo clients, website templates, business growth ideas...</p><p>While this weird energy is mostly work-related tonight, it is reopening up thoughts
about my life as a whole and what I want to work on when my youngest
heads to kindergarten in the fall. I have so many ideas and plans and hopes for that coming day-- a new era in my life after 14 years of having at least one child at home with me. </p><p>Forgive the randomness of the following list... there is no focus, there is no order. It's just a set of things that I'm jotting down here so I can settle them down and not carry them to bed with me.</p><p><span style="color: #990000;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">*</span></span><br /></p><p>I want to practice intentional screen-free time, to see what happens. In my head. In my home. In my heart. I don't know how this will look... if it will be daily for a set time each day, or once a week for a whole day... I don't know. I just know I want to try. I want to clear the noise and invite disquiet and restlessness to see what happens after it. </p><p>I want to write. Not anything formal or themed... I just want to sit down and let words out again, in an open-ended way. Losing the blogging habit, allowing the Instagram captions to count as a skeletal substitute... It's not enough, and I think I've lost something. And while my social-emotional needs have been vastly cared-for via Marco Polo-- it has absolutely been a stand-in talk therapy for me for the last few years-- I think I lean on it more for processing, and again, I think something is lost when I don't sit with things alone, inside myself, and write it out. I want to sit and write more. </p><p>I might be ready, finally, to lean back into my business. To work on a website. To increase my offerings AND my pricing. To blog my clients in a regular way to boost my online presence. To run a giveaway. To create and USE contracts and auto-reminders and schedulers. I have been vastly reluctant to do any of this for YEARS now. Maybe I'm ready finally. </p><p>I have been okay. So so okay. Learning about rest and release and self-acceptance for the last few years. Watching myself NOT reach, not strive... But also not need to. Letting some things go and then being okay with that. There has been growth here, even when it feels like nothing much is happening. </p><p>And as always, there has been observation and appreciation. I think those are two of my greatest gifts. Even without ambition and worldly success, I can sit in most moments and observe and appreciate. And that is a beautiful thing... and no small thing. </p><p><span style="color: #990000;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">*</span></span></p><p>So anyway. That's me, July 2022, on a late Tuesday night. More to come in the coming weeks, maybe. <br /></p>Emily S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10982103855213817116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32430870.post-85504792881321490972020-07-13T23:27:00.000-05:002020-07-13T23:28:13.667-05:00Pandemic Life: Checking In With a Brain Dump<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q8ZvkRH6h3Q/Xw0ydrDXhrI/AAAAAAAAKjM/nIwcftGrJPYLJVUpbPUr_DuSHAIuM_yJwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Southerland-3%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q8ZvkRH6h3Q/Xw0ydrDXhrI/AAAAAAAAKjM/nIwcftGrJPYLJVUpbPUr_DuSHAIuM_yJwCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/Southerland-3%25281%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> Sunday, April 18. Wait, I think it's April 19. It's DEFINITELY Sunday... We mark the week with a home church session on Sundays, so I know I have that part right. But the rest of it-- actual dates, actual days in stay-at-home isolation.... Those are fuzzier. Pretty sure it's the 19th. And that we are on Day 27. Or Day 38. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I count the first day of this "new normal"-- the pandemic crisis of 2020, Coronavirus/COVID-19-- for our family as Friday, March 13. It was the day after they closed Disneyland and major league baseball plans and March Madness and our church sent an email in the evening temporarily suspending all church gatherings and meetings. March 13, the Friday that was supposed to begin my kids' spring break. But while my kids were home because it was on the calendar, many many other districts around the nation were abruptly calling off school for their students that same day, for at least the next few weeks. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">By the Tuesday of the next week, while we tried to chill in a spring-break-y way while staying at home (the zoo had announced it's temporary closure the day before, and every other place for local outings were following suit), our own school district had announced that it would remain closed after spring break, moving to an "alternative learning plan" starting March 26 and going until April 3 (for the moment, but with a likelihood of extending well past that). On Saturday, March 21, the official announcement for the city and county of St. Louis came that a formal "stay-at-home" order would be issued beginning Monday, March 23rd-- an order that closed restaurants, theaters, gyms, and other "non-essential" businesses and strongly restricted other comings and goings for the population of our area. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">On the day we would've been putting our kids back on the bus for school, Monday, March 23, instead we all hunkered down for the long haul. Joe began to work from home, I ran to the grocery store yet again to continue stocking up on pantry essentials that could help us stay home with minimal need to run out for more food/supplies as days went by... and I began a gentle but structured daily routine for myself and for the kids that would get us moving each morning and help us break out of the spring break "vacation mode" we'd been in the entire strange week before. No all-day pajamas. Getting dressed, even if it was just in another set of comfy clothes, helped mark the beginning of the "work/school" day. For me, a little bit of makeup, some earrings, and time to write in my morning pages before beginning the day helped a great deal with my mental preparation for the ongoing work of having my entire family at home with me all day long for the foreseeable future. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And so we began this strange new normal. Our weekday routine has been as follows (with plenty of wiggle room to modify, skip, change and extend any of it as needed):</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">7:45-8:30 Everybody up and breakfasted and dressed by 8:30. Each can go at their own pace, as long as we're all ready to go by 8:30.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">8:30-9 Morning walk. Joe is working in his guest room "office" upstairs by now, so this is just me and the kids. We often stroll around the pond in our neighborhood, but sometimes change it up and go if other directions. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">9-9:30 Settle around the dining room table to write a letter or a journal entry. Planner planning for Noah and I sometimes. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">9:30-10:30 School Time, with Noah, Lucy and Quinn each taking turns breaking away for 20 minutes of piano practice. This is usually Chromebook schooling... zoom meetings and checking new assignments; self-led work while I nudge and nag and help out as needed. Lucy has some notebook writing she needs to do, and is usually better at it in the morning versus the afternoon school hour. (It helps to get Larkin watching cartoons at this time, or she'll run away to Dad's "office" and pester him a little. Joe has been magnificently patient during these interruptions.)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">10:30-11 Group art or music (we've managed this maybe three times total in the last three weeks. More often than not, it becomes an "overflow" worktime and a brain break for mama. Oops.)</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">----------------------------------------------------------</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">July 13, 2020 11:12 pm</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Yeah, I never finished that one. And then it was summer. And here we are, still in a Pandemic. Living through what continues to be a historical year.... historically awful, mostly. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But we're together. My little clan is together. A little more annoyed with each other as days go on, but still so so close. So connected. And really very content. We are lucky--- we are not in a scary place with jobs or money. We are all healthy. We have a house that we fit in, with a big backyard and a trashy 2020 inflatable pool, and all kinds of shows and movies we can stream, and plenty of food and books and puzzles.... And if I'm mostly REALLLLLY lazy this summer-- sleeping in and re-reading old YA paranormal/dystopian novels and fixating on puzzle after puzzle if I'm not napping or playing the freaking Cat Game on my phone-- I'm also nudging my kids to practice the piano, to read more, and to make art. To help me with my tomatoes, basil and zinnias. To be kind to each other. So in some ways, they are being nudged in the areas that matter most to me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It's gonna be okay. And even if the world is falling apart around us-- so much divisiveness amid the actual threat of a crazy and unpredictable virus-- we're okay. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So there. An old post, not totally wasted and tossed aside, with a current addendum, and the cute "social distancing" porch photos my friend Laura took of our family in May. We all picked something that represented this weird pandemic life of ours, and I LOVE the results. capturing history right here. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Noah: science and a mask</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Joe: working on his guitar skillz</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Me: overalls and showing off our toilet paper abundance</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Quinn: blankie and red panda</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Lucy: scarf and peacock</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Larkin: butterfly wings and tiara and TOTAL 3-year-old attitude </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And that's it for now. Perhaps I'll write a post or two more in 2020..... Perhaps. </span>Emily S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10982103855213817116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32430870.post-10428659683135783752020-01-18T22:23:00.002-06:002020-01-18T22:23:45.337-06:00For Quinn, Who Turned Seven Today<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span data-offset-key="8fsb3-0-0"><span data-text="true">This sweet third kid of mine, Quinn Atticus... He is away with dad on a neat little trip to Utah, so I don't get to celebrate him in person just yet... But I didn't want to let the day end without a little tribute to his amazing freshly-7-year-old self. He is filled with goodness and light. He is happy by nature, and so loving. He loves people and friends, and has a soft spot for animals, too. He always takes a moment to get on Fiona (the cat)'s level to tell her hi and pet her, which I think is so sweet. He is infinitely patient with Larkin, his only sibling younger than him, when it would be quite easy to be constantly annoyed or bossy with her. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span data-offset-key="8fsb3-0-0"><span data-text="true">Quinn has a smattering of faint freckles on the bridge of his nose, and I almost can't handle them, they are so cute. He adores soft pajamas-- even better if they have a hood-- and is in the thick of that "talk about video game apps nonstop" phase... so so excited by everything he is doing in those games. He loves to build things, whether it be out of Legos, Duplos, magnatiles, Lincoln Logs, blocks, or even just modeling clay. He loves to dance and LOVES to laugh. His laugh is still one of the most marvelous sounds I've ever heard on this entire earth. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span data-offset-key="4kd6n-0-0"><span data-text="true">He loves me, and that's a gift because he's seen some pretty grumpy moments of mine. But he is so quick to forgive, and his love flows so easily. I hope I continue to deserve this amazing son of mine. At freshly seven years old, he is in that magical place between little and big, and it is an incredibly special place to be in. I hope we all relish it in him while it's here. </span></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span data-offset-key="cbdsm-0-0"><span data-text="true">{photos from our autumn photo session with </span></span><span class="_247o" data-offset-key="cbdsm-1-0" spellcheck="false" start="43"><span data-offset-key="cbdsm-1-0"><span data-text="true">Sarah Quiara</span></span></span><span data-offset-key="cbdsm-2-0"><span data-text="true">, who travels and will probably be in your state sometime this year if you want some photos. ā„}</span></span></span></i></div>
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<br />Emily S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10982103855213817116noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32430870.post-5485298543464858752019-12-23T15:05:00.001-06:002019-12-23T15:05:31.841-06:00Surving Being a Burned Out Human But Also A Mother<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2759GjT8H0c/XgEqDra48JI/AAAAAAAAKU0/QF327GxWZ2QFniHpnc1_ctjaerVf-iWTQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/5B9A5390.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2759GjT8H0c/XgEqDra48JI/AAAAAAAAKU0/QF327GxWZ2QFniHpnc1_ctjaerVf-iWTQCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/5B9A5390.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">What can you do, as a mother, when you are having a day where you're particularly beaten down by anxiety, or depression, or PMS hormones, or just plain life burnout? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">There are a million words of beautiful advice out there for days like this:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Keep taking time for yourself until you're you again." -Lalah Delia</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Always be kinder than you feel." -anon.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Plug into only people that inspire and energize you. Those that have
nothing but unconditional love and judgment-free understanding for you." -Carlie Maree</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">But not enough words for the mothers who have to still show up, all day that day, for the children. What can you you when you have to keep going that day, in spite of the heavy weight of despair or apathy or constant irritation? You can't just..... take the day off. Take care of yourself and let things go. You can't just "unplug" from the challenging humans in your house. Your children, even in their uninspiring and unenergizing tantrums and whines and conflicts, need you there that day. Perhaps you have a baby who truly does rely on you for food all day long. Perhaps you have more than one child. Perhaps your children are all a very young age. Or perhaps, like in my case, you have some independent older children, but there are 4 of them, and it is a school break, so you have all four of them relying on you for a full day of parenting.... even if it's just the regulating of sibling conflict, the making sure there are meals, the keeping them out of danger. Again, loving words of advice might say, "Ask for help.... Find someone to babysit even for an hour or two." But what if that particular day of emotional derailment came out of the blue (as it is wont to do), and there isn't really time to make alternate arrangements? What if it's the holidays, and everyone else in the world is a bit tapped out themselves, so it feels like an additional burden to your heart to try to find someone to carry YOUR load for a minute?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">What can you do? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">You can stay, slog through, go through the motions of daily mom'ing.... and worry your children are suffering because they only have a snappish, tired, impatient mom all day long.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">You can put on cartoons and check out a little (a nap? A hot shower and a long cry? A different room with a book?).... and worry your children are suffering because they are being parented by a screen all day. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">You can turn to your spouse. Maybe they can take a half day? But then you worry they are going to worry about(judge?) your ability to parent. And maybe they are also tapped out, but at work, and asking this of them increases their burden. Or maybe you don't have a spouse to ask in the first place. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">What can a mother do?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Wouldn't it be so wonderful if this was one of those tidy little articles that tackles a tough problem, and then lists a few really helpful, insightful solutions? Ways to shift your mindset, or fix the issue, or prevent it in the future... I really love those articles. They are often a lifeline for me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I'm sorry to say, this isn't one of those. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">This is just me having a beaten down day-- for me today, triggered by my period and by post-busy-season burnout and by holiday chaos and by winter break-- feeling so sad and mad that I am snappish and sarcastic and irritable to my four beloved-but-kind-of-annoying children. This is just me wondering..... IS there anything a mom can do when it gets like this, really? When it's the perfect storm of Mom Mood, Kid Behavior, Holiday Madness, and School Break and really, there AREN'T any other solutions but to push through, albeit snappishly? I think there isn't. There isn't a thing to do here.... Except maybe frantically type out some stuff while the kids are outside for a minute (ignoring the shouts of arguments and the wailing of one 6-year-old being yelled at by his younger sister).... And maybe find a little catharsis in the writing. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Gotta say, though.... even after all the typing.... I still need a good cry. Probably gonna go put on another cartoon for the yahoos and get through the rest of the day. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">For next time, though--- anyone have a genius suggestion that is also realistic? </span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">* </span></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Photo from fall 2016, by my beloved best friend Kate Benson</span></i> </span></div>
Emily S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10982103855213817116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32430870.post-43168420830073241222019-08-14T00:30:00.000-05:002019-08-14T00:30:01.738-05:00Loveys and Loss<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It's been a heck of a summer here in our family. We were able to take a two-week road trip from MO to CO to UT to CA and then back to UT and back to CO before getting home to MO. Really epic. Disneyland and the ocean and the Wizarding World of Harry Potter and family gatherings and sting rays and good friends and mountains and LOTS of driving.... </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And then many weeks of chill summer-ness... swim lessons and pool time, cartoons and late nights. Water balloons, a tree house, movies, friends... Grandparent Camp and Noah getting to go to Florida with his other grandparents. Lucy's baptism. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Truly, it's been a summer to remember. So so many good moments. So many good memories. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">But also? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It's weirdly been the summer for losing loveys. You know, those extra-special and beloved blankies/toys that a child attaches to? The ones that always take first place in their heart? <a href="http://emilys-little-world.blogspot.com/2011/11/how-to-introduce-lovey-into-your-babys.html">Since my first kiddo, I've made specific efforts to bring a lovey into each of my children's lives</a>. And every single one of them has taken the bait. We have some verrry special toys in our home. Larkin has her Foxy. Quinn went rogue and ditched the cute raccoon I got him and chose a polka dot taggie blanket he got from the hospital at his birth. Lucy has her Bunny Bunny. And Noah has Old Mai. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Each of these characters have become dear members of our family, and each are so precious-- not only to their children, but to this mama and to their dad. We have so many stories... so many photos with these loveys. We have seen our kids experience so many moments-- big and small- with their lovey in hand. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Seeing how much Noah attached to his lovey, we took great care in assuring that we would always have contingencies for each of our kids' loveys. No matter what, we would make sure our kids would have their friend. For Noah, I found an overpriced duplicate for Mai on eBay and kept it tucked away in case of emergencies. His REAL Mai got more worn and loved, but this nearly-new "second" Mai stayed nearly new. And one day, Noah did indeed lose his Mai. And we pulled out the replacement and it.... just wasn't the same. Didn't look or feel quite right. So we called it "New Mai" and that worked for Noah, and he accepted New Mai, still missing his real one. And of course, I now needed a backup for the backup, so I found another overpriced Mai on eBay, again, and purchased him. And then, months later, WE FOUND MAI. The original. Now named Old Mai, since Noah had his New Mai. (New NEW Mai hadn't been revealed yet.... but would eventually become part of the team.) With Old Mai back, he took his rightful place as the top fave again, and all was well.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">(here, he plays with both Old and New Mai)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Learning from this, when I was pregnant with Lucy, I chose a sweet pink and white bunny for her AND BOUGHT TWO right then. When we introduced this lovey to her, we introduced each of the two in turn, and would have the bunnies take turns in the wash, so they both wore down and got "loved" at the same pace. This worked beautifully, and really, I have no complaints about this story, since Lucy has always kept things closer to home and has not been at much risk for losing a Bunny. Well- I actually do have ONE complaint: her beautiful bunnies, made from organic cotton, have worn down to see-though, ripping thinness, and they are so very delicate now. Fixing them would change their face, and Lucy cannot bear for that to happen, so we just hold our breath and keep loving both bunnies, carefully. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">On to Quinn. As I mentioned earlier, I found a darling raccoon lovey to match his bedroom colors/decor, and bought two. We introduced Raccoon to him when he was 3ish months old. But we also had this orange polka dot taggie he'd gotten as a gift from the hospital, so I'd tuck the taggie in one arm and the raccoon in his other arm, and when he'd cry in the car (all the time) his little infant fists would pull together and he'd accidentally pull both soft blankies to his cheeks. They soothed him. For a long time, he seemed to love them both, but as he grew older, the polka dot taggie pulled into the lead and firmly stayed there. Seeing this, I miraculously found a near-identical one at Target (the only difference was that the original had the embroidered words "Mercy Hospital" stitched onto it) to be his duplicate, and like Bunny Bunny, I kept both raccoons and both taggies in rotation.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And then Larkin-- I was an old pro by now, so when I found the perfect pink fox for her, I bought two, again. Rotated them evenly, again. She fell in love, as expected. Easy peasy. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">A family of loveys. The Hobbes to each of my Calvins. Sweet, soft "best friends" for each of my kids, from the time they were infants until now, and beyond. Which brings me to this summer. To a string of events that puts my stomach in knots of anxiety if I let myself think too long about it. Indeed, for the last month and a half, I've shut it down whenever the worry rises up in me. I haven't been able to let myself process the worst-case scenario.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">See, back in June, while in California, Quinn misplaced his Mercy taggie. The one he loved best of the two. It happened sometime right before or right after Disneyland, probably in the hotel. Despite Joe's and my very best efforts, in all the places we stayed, to gather alllll the things from alllll the family members and repack again and again..... somehow this beloved taggie fell under the radar. It's probably gone forever. I'm sick about it. Luckily, Quinn's taggie-twin is nearly the same, and after a hard first few days/weeks, Quinn hasn't seemed to fret terribly about this situation. He's not mentioned it in a while now. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He's going to be okay. And being only six, he's gonna forget that he had one with "Mercy Hospital" stitched on it eventually. Probably. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So then there's Larkin and her pink Foxy and her other pink Foxy. Somehow, we have lost track of one of them. For SURE this happened back at home in July, likely IN the home. Larkin is fond of putting things in bags and baskets, so right now, I still hold out hope that her second Foxy is just tucked somewhere random, waiting to be found. I'm mostly not worried. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Except--- two things. One, I've been purging the HECK out of this house since we got back from our trip. Bags and bags and BAGS and bags of stuff leaving the home forever. What if she tucked Foxy into one of THOSE bags? What if? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">OR. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Noah decided a while back it would be funny to encourage Larkin to throw something of his away in the kitchen trash can. Some Lego thing, I think. I think he didn't think she'd really do it, but she did, and he exclaimed, "What? NO, Larkin!" and laughed and retrieved it. I was there. No harm, no foul.... except... what if she liked that reaction, and tried it again... maybe with something more important this time? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Probably ridiculous to get too anxious about..... EXCEPT.... today she asked me where one of her favorite stuffed animals was at. She said, "Where's Scrappy, Mom?"and I said, "I don't know... where IS Scrappy?" and she casually answered, without prompting, "Scrappy's in the trash."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">THE TRASH. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I asked her again a bit later, and she gave the exact same answer. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Enter that anxiety again. That she would have tossed something precious into the trash can? Suddenly a more real possibility. Now listen--- I actually totally found Scrappy five minutes later, and that swung my anxiety pendulum back to the HOPE side, so there's that. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">But I've cleaned the HECK out of this house these last few weeks. Wouldn't I have found her Foxy by now? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Okay, okay....worst-case scenario, she has only one, but she still has one. I can try to hunt one down on eBay for a backup. She won't care. It's going to be okay. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So why am I still avoiding this whole thing? Tamping down any thoughts of lost loveys and the terrible knots of worry that rise up? Because here's the worst part of this whole story: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Also this summer, Noah has lost Old Mai. The best and oldest of this family of loveys. Secretly, my very favorite one. Old Mai has not been found for over a month now. And again-- I've turned this house upside down with cleaning anyway, and then again, searching SO HARD for this little lamb. Noah has looked everywhere, too. He is 99% certain Mai wasn't lost til we got home, which should mean HOPE, but Noah is also the one who confessed his deepest fear was that Larkin might have done something with it. Noah, in fact, was the one to originally introduce the worry that she might have thrown Old Mai in the trash. Please see above for all the reasons that this "trash theory" has very real possibility. I am sick about this. Never mind Foxy. I am sick about the trash idea for Old Mai's sake. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">My stomach is in knots about this. About our sweet lamby. Until I lock it down and thrust away the idea that he's really gone. I haven't been able to go there. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Here's the thing: Quinn is going to be just fine with his one blankie. Larkin is going to be just fine with her one Foxy. Even Lucy, with her fragile and disintegrating old Bunnies.... she's going to be just fine. At least she still HAS them. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Old Mai is the oldest. Has been loved the longest. Has been more present in Noah's heart and hands than any other lovey in any of my other children's arms. You may call me crazy, but he's a member of the family. Noah will remember him. And will remember losing him. Noah will have to learn about loss in a very real way. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And I need to be honest here: while 60% of my terrible fear and sadness here is for my sweet Noah and his loss, 40% is my very own grief. <i>I</i> wasn't ready to say goodbye to Mai. <i>I</i> can't face the very real possibility that he's gone. I'm devastated that he might be buried in a landfill or in a dusty corner of some thrift store storeroom-- too old and beaten up to be put on a shelf... destined for the dumpster eventually. (I fantasize that some insightful worker there might find him and say, "Now THIS looks like a toy that is loved. I'll just set him aside. Maybe someone will come asking after him.") </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">For nearly 5 weeks now, I've not let myself believe the worst. I've, in fact, just not let myself think about it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">But I think that even with my avoidance, the icky worry is still there, and it's eating at me. So finally, today, when Larkin's "Where's Scrappy?/In the trash!" bit brought it all back to the surface, I reluctantly admitted that it's time to confront my fear and let myself begin to be sad. It's time to begin to process what this all means. And it's time to make a space for Noah to begin processing, too. Talking about it, considering the worst, deciding whether or not to keep a small flame of hope burning, or to let go and to mourn. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Guys, I know it's just a toy, but this HURTS. I haven't had a lot of loss in my life... so maybe this OBJECT is a small lesson in loss for me. A practice run. Watching myself avoid and then worry and then ignore and then feel overcome by a wave of grief.... the go back to ignoring again... Maybe there are lessons here on how to move through a loss. Maybe, in some small way, this will be a worthwhile journey for my son, too. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I don't know AT ALL. Tonight, finally letting myself consider that this might be goodbye, I've been letting myself just feel stuff. And I've been digging for old photos as part of the process. What initially meant to be a search for maybe 5-6 images of sweet Mai and Noah to illustrate a sad post about losing loveys became an epic treasure hunt-- and I ended up grabbing dozens and dozens of Old Mai Moments from spring 2008 til summer 2019. Maybe no one but myself (and maybe Joe and maybe my mom) needs to see so many photos of a boy and his toy. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">But this post is mostly for me. Like I said, Old Mai is family. And this catalog of moments below tells a thousand stories of my son, of my family, and of me. I laugh at myself for taking so SO so many photos all the time, but when it comes to curating a collection of moments, I am profoundly grateful I have so many to choose from. What a treasure. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I hope with all my heart that this, then, is not goodbye.... But it might be. And if it is, then here's to you, Old Mai. You have been a gift to our whole family, and especially to my boy. Thank you. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">ā„</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">2008</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> 2009</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">2010</span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">2011 </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">2012</span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">2013 </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">2014 </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">2015</span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">2016</span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> (by Lucy, age 5)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">2017 </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> 2018</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">2019 </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> (this one and the next were from his own camera when he went to the Smoky Mountains on a field trip)</span></div>
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<span style="color: #93c47d;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">ā„</span></b></span></div>
<br />Emily S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10982103855213817116noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32430870.post-45006700127005509752019-08-08T22:12:00.002-05:002019-08-08T22:12:50.808-05:00Back in the Springtime: A Tea Party MiniSession With My Girls and Their Daddy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Back in the springtime, I had the chance to book someone pretty special for a mini session with my girls. More than ten years ago, I was Sonni's high school English teacher, and she was a wise-beyond-her-years, poised, charming teenager. So smart. So talented at whatever she tried. Fast forward a decade, and Sonni McCune, of <a href="http://www.mccuneandcophoto.com/">McCune and Co. Photography</a>, is a polished and talented photographer and a wife (to another former student!!) and mother to a cute daughter just a little older than Larkin. She rocks the weddings and loves to photograph families and little children, too. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It's been so neat to follow her journey as well as her business accounts on Instagram and Facebook, and when she advertised this sweet tea party mini session, using a beautiful image of her own husband and daughter (seriously, click the <a href="http://www.mccuneandcophoto.com/">link</a> to her website to see it for yourself-- it's one of the first photos!), I knew I wanted a spot in her lineup. I knew, just because of her one sample image, that I wanted my own Joe to be in a few of the photos. And I knew I was going to be so lucky to get new photos of my beautiful girls where I didn't have to do ANY OF THE WORK. Ha! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">See for yourselves-- Sonni is magic, and so are these photos. I love them! (And please don't let the months-later posting of them be any indication of how I feel about them...I'm just always behind when it comes to ANY photo sharing, mine or others. Yikes.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Not just the adorable tea party moments.... but also the farmhouse steps... the field of flowers... the twirling, the little Larkin smooches... Sisters together. All of it. I am so lucky. These photos are a gift, and these three beloveds of mine are a gift. Thank you for taking the time to peek. </span></div>
Emily S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10982103855213817116noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32430870.post-37944314207650058502019-05-12T23:11:00.000-05:002019-05-12T23:11:14.800-05:00Four Times a Mama, in Photos<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://morganharpernichols.com/"><img alt="https://morganharpernichols.com/" border="0" data-original-height="1002" data-original-width="564" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jHbsEjNXBu8/XNjskEJ_hWI/AAAAAAAAJhM/9G6ALV8WlW42nfoGy5SAEEHevZ6feq0GwCEwYBhgL/s1600/e978faa9358599fc9ca43eea8bb649ec.jpg" title="Morgan Harper Nichols" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">For all the times I'm behind the camera, I am so grateful that sometimes, sometimes I get to be in front of the camera. These are my babies, the ones who made me a mother, and in honor of Mother's Day, I'm indulging my "<a href="http://emilys-little-world.blogspot.com/2017/06/what-does-natsukashii-mean.html">natsukashii</a>" and looking through old photos and feeling grateful. It's a circus, and I definitely feel the burnout sometimes, but I wouldn't trade this for ANYTHING. </span></div>
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<br />Emily S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10982103855213817116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32430870.post-1674512263854795672019-04-25T14:07:00.000-05:002019-04-25T14:07:16.145-05:00Becoming a Marvel Geek<div data-contents="true">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span data-offset-key="eaj00-0-0"><span data-text="true">I've been thinking a LOT about Avengers: Endgame and the Marvel Cinematic Universe this week. Probably some of you guys have, too, if you are at all geeky about this stuff like I have become. I'm seriously SO excited for our movie showtime Saturday evening that I get butterflies every time I think about it, and get teary every time I watch videos/trailers/interviews with the cast. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span data-offset-key="bh1ru-0-0"><span data-text="true">So because of this, I've also been thinking a LOT about my sweeter half, </span></span><span class="_247o" data-offset-key="bh1ru-1-0" spellcheck="false" start="73"><span data-offset-key="bh1ru-1-0"><span data-text="true">Joe Southerland</span></span></span><span data-offset-key="bh1ru-2-0"><span data-text="true">. Because it is ONLY thanks to him that I've had the privilege of getting immersed in the world of Marvel. ONLY he could've lured me to that first Iron Man movie back in 2008 (we brought baby Noah with us!!), or gotten Noah hooked enough that we all sat around watching the Avengers cartoon with our toddler, as entertained (or more) as he. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span data-offset-key="bh1ru-2-0"><span data-text="true">Because I married a true Marvel fan, I have had the wonderful blessing of getting to fall head over heels with every Avenger, every movie, and every geeky side-thing that comes with being a Marvel fan. And I'm still only at "intermediate fan" status, compared to most of you out there. So if I'm having this much emotion and excitement about Endgame this weekend, I can only imagine how much MORE you guys, and my husband are feeling. And I love it. I love it all. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span data-offset-key="bh1ru-2-0"><span data-text="true">Here's to geeking out, whatever it is you happen to geek out about. And thanks, Joe--- it's been the best ride, and I'm so glad you've let me tag along. </span></span></span></div>
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Emily S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10982103855213817116noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32430870.post-5526655362247548912019-03-27T14:01:00.001-05:002019-03-27T14:01:55.068-05:00The Story in the Details Today<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wH7cQDi4ttk/XJvIL0a5n0I/AAAAAAAAJWM/KWZWe99hm7Ex2z-ri_fyfF5NgZtaPtyjACLcBGAs/s1600/thumbnail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1080" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wH7cQDi4ttk/XJvIL0a5n0I/AAAAAAAAJWM/KWZWe99hm7Ex2z-ri_fyfF5NgZtaPtyjACLcBGAs/s1600/thumbnail.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Itās a slow, unhurried Wednesday morning, with
nothing on the agenda. The sun is shining and spring is definitely
beginning to peek its head around the corner. Larkin and I are tucked
together on the couch under the same blanket. She is drinking chocolate
milk and eating small powdered donuts while she watches āPumpkin
Georgeā, one of her top cartoon picks (Curious George Boo Fest). I have a
kindle book and some cross stitching on hand, and itās completely okay
if we stay right here for awhile. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Sitting here, I notice how Noah is slowly taking over the top of
our TV cabinet with his various treasuresā Legos and Chicago souvenirs
from last weekās trip. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I am lightly amused by the story of our family life this armoire-top is telling today. Here is what I see:</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><ol style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The ārealā decorā a beautiful and cheerful print, āDonāt Worry, Be
Happyā, by Rifle Paper Co., a gift from my bestie Genny. An antique
black fan, a treasure find from our Masonic Lodge caretaking days. The
āBe Attitudesā and ā@ā signs on the wall. (I always meant to also hang a
āhomeā sign next to the ā@ā, so it would make more sense.)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The box for Joeās bb8 Sphero. Missing the actual bb8, which I need to round up for him. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The Mylar balloon word āloveā, leftover from my Valentineās photo
shoot. I couldnāt bring myself to toss it yet, so it just hangs out
here. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Tucked in back, mostly out of sight, the odious bucket of faux
snowballs my kids LOVE and I loathe. A gift from a sister several years
ago, these things end up in every corner of this room when the kids
decide to play āsnowball fightā (in fact, from my spot on the couch, I
see at least one rogue ball under the toy bench. Of course.). And these
things gather alll the hair and strings and lint and are just old and
dingy and gross and are NEVER all in one place together. The kids LOVE
THEM. Joe put the bucket up here, sort of hidden, after picking them up
yet again last night. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Two DVD casesā one for Wall-E, another of Larkinās current
favorites, and one for Ponyo, one of the latest in Joeās attempts to
educate his kids in the Studio Ghibli canon of films. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Several LEGO creations- some original designs and some from sets,
all of them Noahās, set out of reach of Larkin. Eventually, he will be
asked to take these back upstairs to his LEGO table, but for now,
theyāre ādecorā. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And the most recent additionsā Noahās two Chicago souvenirs, a
Willis Tower bell and a skyline snow globe, both carefully chosen and
paid for with his souvenir allowance (āplus Iām going to use ten dollars
of my own money while weāre in Chicago, okay, Mom?ā). He is really
proud of these items. He chose well. </span></li>
</ol>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">At any given time, there are little stories in the details of our
homesā things that matter, evidence of challenging times or good
memories or current routines that will one day be obsolete. When the
house is all tidied up and things are put away, that tells a story. And
when things are awry and āstuffā is strewn and set about, those items
tell a story too. And all of it is worth telling. When my home is put
together and all the Legos and souvenirs and old photo props are put
away, the story is that I am feeling cheerful and motivated and
productive, and probably at peace and maybe in a planning/goal making
groove. When there is a little bit of semi-organized clutter about, our
lives are probably a little busier than usual, or weāve had a few more
gray days than usual... but itās still kind of neat to think about why
things end up where they are, not yet put back away: like I can see
Quinnās lovey and two of his stuffed animals over on the toy bench, and I
realize he brings at least one item from his bed downstairs every
morning before schoolā just to help him transition from cozy jammie
sleep to getting dressed and ready for the day. Itās sweet, actually,
and I donāt mind putting his lovey and friends back upstairs for him
most days. Or Noahās souvenirs: I know they are still new enough that
they are freshly special to him, so if he wants them here, in the family
room, on display for now... I can let them stay for awhile. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Ultimately, Iāll find another pocket of cheerful motivation, and
things will get put back away. And thatās great. But today, Iām enjoying
the details of the things left out, the things out of place... and Iām
relishing the feeling of a full home and a good, simple, sometimes crazy
little</span> life here. </div>
</div>
Emily S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10982103855213817116noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32430870.post-928484756223124482019-03-03T08:30:00.000-06:002019-03-03T08:30:03.456-06:00Larkin and the Little Red Book<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HMz6I12Zb_0/XHtbMq6wHxI/AAAAAAAAJSE/Ofq-AgJhR90inc45N4T3dF9Jd8buwhNiQCLcBGAs/s1600/5B9A7074.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HMz6I12Zb_0/XHtbMq6wHxI/AAAAAAAAJSE/Ofq-AgJhR90inc45N4T3dF9Jd8buwhNiQCLcBGAs/s1600/5B9A7074.jpg" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Because she is always grabbing this Chaucer book off of my little book display. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Because she happened to match the book on this February morning. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Because I had done her hair in anticipation of heading out the door on errands. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Because she chose the rain boots herself. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Because every time we put on her Totoro socks, she and I sing the Totoro song. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Because I always have a child's chair handy.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Becuase the front door open lets in just the right amount of light. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Because she won't be this little forever.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Because I adore having her as my daily sidekick for this beautiful time we have left before the world scoops her up. </span></li>
</ul>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Unplanned, perfectly wonderful photos from my spunky, darling, fun 2.5 year old on an average winter weekday.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">*</span></b></span></span></div>
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Emily S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10982103855213817116noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32430870.post-89125047117874550292019-02-17T09:00:00.001-06:002019-02-17T09:00:27.077-06:00Defeat Looks Like Acceptance This Morning<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span>Itās 8:00am, Sunday morning. Joe is out of town. Noah and Lucy are still sleeping, Quinn and Larkin are watching cartoons. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span>Last
night, after nearly a full week of managing Lucyās second round with a
tummy bug in under four weeks, Larkin stood in the kitchen and began
heaving the contents of her tummy all over the floor. Sheād also already
had a turn with the stomach flu in the last four weeks, making her my
second kid to have a second wave. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span>After
already having a challenging week coping with the reality of constantly
sick kids, feeling sorry for myself and in the throes of winter
despair, last night undid me. I slid into total defeat. My āsorry for
myselfā amplified to soul-splitting levels as I mopped up the floor and
scrubbed the puke bowl clean for the millionth time. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span>And
then? I gave up. I finally gave up. That tense feeling of waiting and
wishing it was differentā the anger that this was happening...the
self-pityā- it faded into background noise as I confronted the very real
and immediate issue of how to handle a 2-year-old pukebomb who could go
off at any time, wherever she might be. And we all know that 2-year
olds donāt hit the bowl without help. I kicked into pure survival mode
and prepped the couch for her to watch a cartoon (sheet-covered, old
towels under that and around the floor, a bench with her puke bowl and a
little bit of water for sipping). I then marched upstairs and prepped
her bedroom for potential battle: mattress covered in towels, towels on
the floor, extra toys removed (but lovey and fave blanket remained,
because sick babies deserve comfort, even when the thought of things
getting puked on makes me cringe hard). </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span>For
the first time (Iām sheepish to admit it took this long), I finally
LEANED IN. Rolled up my sleeves and accepted that this is my life. This,
right this minute, is my life. It is what it is. I cannot change that
Joe is out of town and snow is on the ground outside and two of my four
kids are actively contagious with vomit germs. I am here and I cannot
wish it away. And so I just leaned in. My peripheral vision narrowed
until all I could see what what needed to be done right then to make my
girls comfortable and to make any potential cleanup as easy as possible.
My job wasnāt to wish we were back in those nostalgic days where no one
was sick and the trees had leaves on them and all of us liked being
outside and healthy. My job was to just HANDLE IT, whatever āitā turned
out to be.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span>And
it was okay. Not great: Larkin did in fact vomit again, at midnight, in
her crib. But I was watching the monitor and heard a tell-tale cough
before it began and was fast enough to make it to her room to hold her
over the bowl. And it was a teeny amount. And she was calm and ready to
lay right back down to try to sleep again. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span>I
didnāt get enough sleep: every time Lucy stirred, I worried she was
going to have a repeat of yesterday morning where she kept leaning over
her bowl with the urge to vomit, not sleeping... just waiting. And in
fact, at 5:45 I woke to the adrenaline-inducing sound of her heaving
into her bowl, as Iād worried about. After nearly 24 hours not pukingā
even eating a normal dinnerā she had a lot to put into her bowl, and I
had another gross clean-up/scrub to do. So tired. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span>But it was okay. I handled the night and weāre all okay and any mess was mostly contained. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span>And
even though today is only day 2 of Joeās 4-day absence, and even though
two of my four are actively still in the 24-post puke window of
potential contagion (and probably more than that... weāre probably just
totally diseased and contagious on every surface of our own persons and
this whole house. I canāt freak out about it anymore. ACCEPTANCE.)...
even though this is not how I wanted my life to look right now (I
fantasize about playing outside and about decluttering projects and
about sewing summer dresses for the girls and about open windows and
laying on quilts outside in the shade reading books) I am here. Iāve
accepted that this is what life is today. Puke bowls and old towels and
staying home from church and needing a shower and watching too many
cartoons. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span>And
in honor of this feeling of defeat/acceptance this morning, I have some
candles lit for āhyggeā. The cute little diffuser is wafting out
comforting essential oils. My Valentine tulips from Joe are bringing a
piece of Spring to my house. Thereās a bottle of Vitamin D supplements
right there next to the flowersā Iāve only been taking them for 2 days,
but I think theyāre helpingā and Iām listening to piano music on Alexa
as I do a tiny bit of cross-stitching. Larkin and Quinn are watching
(too many) cartoons and Lucy and Noah are still sleeping and we probably
have more vomit ahead... but this is my life. I give up. And in giving
up, I actually feel looser, lighter, and better. Sometimes maybe being
defeated simply means we release our stubborn will and wishing, and only
then can we soften enough to accept and let go. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span>(Now, to try to keep this state of mind until my partner in crime returns.)</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">(I
wish it didnāt take my stubborn heart so long to learn lessons. And
then forget them and have to learn them again. And again.)</span></div>
Emily S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10982103855213817116noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32430870.post-61861915958471134142019-01-25T08:30:00.000-06:002019-01-25T08:30:07.169-06:00Every Morning For Now<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JLLbk-w85NM/XEP_ntIo4KI/AAAAAAAAJOs/869uITSljXMBqjS6OfTJLK4xMgla79iYgCLcBGAs/s1600/5B9A5295.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JLLbk-w85NM/XEP_ntIo4KI/AAAAAAAAJOs/869uITSljXMBqjS6OfTJLK4xMgla79iYgCLcBGAs/s1600/5B9A5295.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Every morning for the last six years, give or take a few, this is one of the places I stand-- behind my girl, a basket of supplies nearby, wrangling tangles and coaxing Lucy's thick hair into a ponytail, or a braid or two. First I take out any previous ponytail holders. Then I usually add a small dollop of leave-in-conditioner, focusing primarily on that middle patch of hair in the back where her hair begins to spill down her back-- the place where tangles form into a briar patch of knots. I then spray her hair with water and begin working out tangles with a Wet Brush-- a miracle brush I've had less than a year that I should have spent the money on years ago. As much as I try to keep the pain to a minimum, she flinches on many of the brush strokes until I've managed to get the tangles out or down to the part of her hair where I can then grip the whole mass of hair and use my fist as the buffer to pain while I yank on tangles more vigorously within the ponytail hanging down from my hand. If you've ever brushed long hair, I'm certain you know exactly what I'm talking about. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Once her hair is tangle-free, I make a part in the top front, and pull her face-framing hair into a small ponytail or french braid, only along the right side of her head-- preventative measures to keep her hair out of her face all day. There is nearly never a day that her right front side of her hair is not contained in one of these ways. I've never been able to let myself let it go, and consequently, she has never learned how to keep her hair out of her face herself. I still don't know just how much of a disservice I've done her by always keeping her hair tamed.... time will tell, I suppose. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">After this first ponytail/braid, I then usually either brush her hair into a low pony or into two braids. Again, this almost never varies, and the reasons are nuanced: 1. Since hearing scare stories from fellow moms about head lice, I decided early on in her school career that I'd just go ahead and never send her to school with her hair down. Easy enough. 2. But because she nearly never has her hair down, when I do give her that option, say for church or just a random summer day, she nearly never opts for it. She is a creature of routine, and I've created the routine of "hair up", so she doesn't choose "hair down". 3. I've tried to talk her into a bun or two. Nope-- too different from the routine. 4. I snuck her hair into a high ponytail last week-- her first one-- and she didn't say anything about it. Good or bad. Which means maybe I can add that to the menu now. But maybe still not actually ask her if she wants it or not. Because she'll say no. Because it's not what she's used to. But she didn't mind it when it was in all day last week. So.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">At least once a month, when she's particularly vocal about the hair-brushing pain, usually after two or three days of being home with nowhere to be, and not having her hair brushed daily-- these days which also seem to yield a higher likelihood that she'll either be in costume and/or rolling around the floor/in a blanket/in and out of a play tent/etc. where friction compounds her tangles--I then threaten to take her to get her hair cut. Not short.... not like a bob or anything.... But maybe shoulder-length? I tell her that it would make hair-brushing a breeze every time. She says she loves her long hair, and used to protest the idea of a cut more... but recently, she hasn't argued to keep it long when I bring it up. So I see a trim in our future. Maybe only 3-4". </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">After all this--- the actual work and the overthinking of the actual work.... the agony (for her head and my nerves) of working out particularly bad tangles...the wondering if I've created problems by under-instructing her on how-tos and over-containing the flyaway potential and being too routine overall.... After all this, I still love the feel of her hair under my hands. I love the moment every day that we are physically connected, engaging in a timeless ritual between mother and daughter. I love that she lets me. (That she doesn't even know any different). I love turning chaos into silken order. I'm even getting better at the braiding bit. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">But as she moves from age 7 to age 8 soon, I've begun to realize I can't do it for her forever. She's going to need to learn some things for herself. So we've begun a few little lessons here and there-- how to brush one's own hair. How to make a ponytail (I never realized how complicated this is to someone who's never done it. Harder than tying shoes, even.) Soon I'll begin helping her try shampooing and rinsing her own hair. (It's so THICK. I haven't been able to bring myself to let her do it on her own yet... all I can envision is clumps of conditioner still deep in her hair, unrinsed.) </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I know a large percentage of mothers out there would read this and be SHOCKED we've not done any of this until now. But maybe some of the moms are where I'm at. And maybe a few more won't even begin this much teaching until a few more years after age 8. To each her own. I think maybe the girls will all turn out okay in this area, eventually. (Though watching my girl with a ponytail holder, still not grasping how to pull the hair through it.... ay yi yi.)</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">All this to say-- Every morning for the last six years, this ritual, this act of love and caregiving, has been a good and humble work. The simple task of brushing hair, braiding hair, smoothing hair. Using my hands to show her I love her and I care about her well-being. And one day it'll be over. She'll take the brush into her own hands and she'll learn her own way. And I will miss this. But I get to do it a while longer. Every morning. Every morning for now. </span></div>
<br />Emily S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10982103855213817116noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32430870.post-1202960117255275732019-01-18T15:41:00.000-06:002019-01-18T15:41:55.594-06:00Quinn is SIX!! <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-B2qK1EjzHFg/XEJFPTh912I/AAAAAAAAJNo/g4H9riWTEQU9O3-_yuTN76tgj55Aw-BsACLcBGAs/s1600/5B9A5297.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-B2qK1EjzHFg/XEJFPTh912I/AAAAAAAAJNo/g4H9riWTEQU9O3-_yuTN76tgj55Aw-BsACLcBGAs/s1600/5B9A5297.jpg" /></a></span></div>
<div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></div>
<div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Now We Are Six</span></div>
<div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></div>
<div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">When I was One,<br />I had just begun.<br />When I was Two,<br />I was nearly new.<br />When I was Three<br />I was hardly me.<br />When I was Four,<br />I was not much more.<br />When I was Five, </span></div>
<div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I was just alive.<br />But now I am Six, </span></div>
<div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I'm as clever as clever,<br />So I think I'll be six now </span></div>
<div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">for ever and ever. </span></div>
<div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></div>
<div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">A.A. Milne</span></div>
<div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bFL8ffKSd1A/XEJFP87nI_I/AAAAAAAAJNw/LMPPGmfhMBg184QUUK1pEOOqeuf39Ds8ACLcBGAs/s1600/5B9A5300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bFL8ffKSd1A/XEJFP87nI_I/AAAAAAAAJNw/LMPPGmfhMBg184QUUK1pEOOqeuf39Ds8ACLcBGAs/s1600/5B9A5300.jpg" /></a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The day before his birthday, Quinn's whole kindergarten crew at school celebrated their 100th day. There are five kindergarten classes, and all the teachers planned a super fun celebration for the kids-- treats, games, crafts, collections, counting, etc. etc. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">This 100 Days thing is not new. My older two kids have gotten to celebrate with special activities during their kindergarten years... But one thing I've seen lots of other schools do that my school never did was to invite the kiddos to dress like they're 100 years old. I mean, COME ON. So cute!! I've envied all my friends' posts with their little grandmas and grandpas, and wished our school did that part of the 100 Day celebration. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So imagine my delight when the flier came home this year WITH THE COSTUME PART ADDED! Woo!!!! Little old Grandpa Quinn, here we come!</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Except, you cannot have missed his expressions in these photos. He was NOT into it. The suspenders and plaid shirt were already a major compromise. The glasses and the gray-dusted hair put him over the edge, and he was NOT a happy kiddo as we got ready for the bus. (Needless to say, I didn't even approach him with the makeup pencil to draw on some wrinkles. Even though it hurt my heart to have to skip it.)</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">He gamely posed for me anyway, but would NOT smile (I almost tricked him, in photo #2/4, if you look)... but this last shot, a candid, shows how he really felt. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9TYEjKErniA/XEJFP-NT2CI/AAAAAAAAJNs/m8bVlKsl3tstX3bAQN-AnRvdiIlEtPwEACLcBGAs/s1600/5B9A5303.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9TYEjKErniA/XEJFP-NT2CI/AAAAAAAAJNs/m8bVlKsl3tstX3bAQN-AnRvdiIlEtPwEACLcBGAs/s1600/5B9A5303.jpg" /></a></span></div>
<div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></div>
<div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Dang it. </span></div>
<div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Poor kiddo. </span></div>
<div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">(Poor me. I REALLY wanted this. How do other mamas get their kids into this idea???)</span></div>
<div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">But never fear-- he ended up having a WONDERFUL day, and changed right into his jammies when he got home, and all was well. </span></div>
<div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="blockquote-wrap poem" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And this morning, his SIXTH birthday, I made sure to grab just a few more photos, so that he would not just have Sad Old Man portraits for his birthday:</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-F3xD4QD-ufk/XEJHLzViZJI/AAAAAAAAJOA/rSRBUWeI-UYc87EXk4NcG8HOgmchQHRmQCLcBGAs/s1600/5B9A5318%2Bb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-F3xD4QD-ufk/XEJHLzViZJI/AAAAAAAAJOA/rSRBUWeI-UYc87EXk4NcG8HOgmchQHRmQCLcBGAs/s1600/5B9A5318%2Bb.jpg" /></a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And now he is six, and he's clever as clever. And so darn sweet. And funny. And handsome. And kind. We are lucky lucky lucky he's in our family, and so delighted to celebrate the HECK outta him today. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dwVOH_WMxDQ/XEJHMPkZ08I/AAAAAAAAJOI/kTt_2w_4zfs9Ad2Tv488Iw0hlbhIBI_RgCLcBGAs/s1600/5B9A5318.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dwVOH_WMxDQ/XEJHMPkZ08I/AAAAAAAAJOI/kTt_2w_4zfs9Ad2Tv488Iw0hlbhIBI_RgCLcBGAs/s1600/5B9A5318.jpg" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Happy birthday, my beloved Quinn Atticus. </span></div>
<div class="blockquote-wrap poem">
<br /></div>
Emily S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10982103855213817116noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32430870.post-62798103837749989772019-01-17T10:31:00.003-06:002019-01-17T15:44:44.914-06:00I Want:<div dir="ltr">
</div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ailJzA3pEZo/XECtUWAkboI/AAAAAAAAJNY/fkUVKrjyqFA_UUuuBgUdPp1aUepYR2dZQCLcBGAs/s1600/5B9A5118%2Bcopy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="640" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ailJzA3pEZo/XECtUWAkboI/AAAAAAAAJNY/fkUVKrjyqFA_UUuuBgUdPp1aUepYR2dZQCLcBGAs/s640/5B9A5118%2Bcopy.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
<div dir="ltr">
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I want:</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A pedicure.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">To make a quilt.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">To nap and read endlessly until I actually get bored of napping and reading.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Delicious beef, beautifully prepared.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">An easy time of day to get outside for regular walks.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">An easy time of day to get outside in the wild with my kids.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">To
give my kids the experience of ice skating without the inevitably </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">awful
learning period where all of them are falling and HATING IT.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Game night with good friends.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Someone to play with my hair and scratch/massage my scalp.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Time and energy to tackle decluttering in my basement.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Time and energy to photograph and post items for sale online. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">To find the $30 cash back I lost this weekend.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">To go to the movies. Several times.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A road trip with Joe.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Someone to make dinners for us every day.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">New prints for my 3x3 photo wall.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">To sing harmony with people.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">To play with some kittens.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">To stretch.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">To stand somewhere magical.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">*</span></span></b></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Photo: happened to find some good light on our snow play day last weekend. I "selfed" it with the big camera, and nabbed a few I actually like. Ta da. </span></span></i><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">*</span></span></i></span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">For fun: a few other "I Want" lists from past blog posts:</span></span><br />
<a href="https://emilys-little-world.blogspot.com/2010/08/28-days.html"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">28 Days (2010)</span></span></a><br />
<a href="https://emilys-little-world.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-want-journaling-exercise-for-any-day.html"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Oct. 12, 2010</span></span></a><br />
<a href="https://emilys-little-world.blogspot.com/2009/04/journaling-exercise-i-want.html"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Journaling Exercise: I Want (2009)</span></span></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></span><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></span></i></div>
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Emily S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10982103855213817116noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32430870.post-48299520494518697212019-01-09T09:09:00.000-06:002019-01-09T09:09:00.659-06:00Hello, 2019: 10 Minute Freewrite About Blogging<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qLAegwRHNqw/XDYLF5VqZgI/AAAAAAAAJMY/8mI8AN3E5v0d0E5xDde0IUEHiycJahZmgCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_6340.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qLAegwRHNqw/XDYLF5VqZgI/AAAAAAAAJMY/8mI8AN3E5v0d0E5xDde0IUEHiycJahZmgCLcBGAs/s640/IMG_6340.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Ten-minute morning freewrite, and GO:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">If there is one thing that I've accidentally let go of that has simplified my life, it is blogging. Putting it on my to-do list, struggling to make time for it, agonizing over how much I WASN'T managing to blog about, stressing about having photos ready for each post.... That has slipped away this past year, and as I sit here reflecting on that, I realize that that self-made pressure is completely GONE. Gone. And that this is a blessing. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">If there is one thing that I've accidentally let go of that is creating a wound in my soul, it is blogging. Creating space for myself in front of this computer, allowing myself to "be a writer" for a bit.... Stream-of-consciousness typing therapy.... Plus having sweetly documented moments in my family's life, as well as really the only journal of my own journey that isn't just images (I'm looking at you, Instagram, phone camera roll, etc.).... This has slipped away this year, and as I sit here reflecting on it, I am profoundly sad. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It's not the BLOG (say it they way I just did in my head, "BLAAAHHHHHHHHG", with a teenagery voice and an eyeroll)..... It's not. I don't aspire (anymore) to be this clever, popular blogger. I don't NEED the world to read along and nod their heads (though you, whoever you are reading this, still give me little bubbles of joy when you read and nod your head and maybe even comment). It's the writing-paired-with-images that fed my soul. It's the steady, semi-consistent checking in with my own self in the form of writing that was the beautiful part of this. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Yesterday, I was finally adding words to my "Through My Doorways" post that had had images on it since I created the post in November. And I really wanted to link a part of the post back to a previous post that I swore existed, but I couldn't recall exactly what year I'd posted it. So I spent the better part of an hour just scrolling my blog. Clicking "older posts" again and again, going further and further back. Never even reaching that strange, hazy time before we lived in this house in Ballwin, and yet there were still SO MANY posts and so so so so so SO MANY photos between yesterday and summer 2013, and I just...... wow. I suddenly felt the loss of it keenly, acutely, and deeply. I realized that even if I'd accidentally stopped making myself stress about blogging, I'd also accidentally stopped allowing myself to blog as a therapy art form.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">My 10-minute timer just went off. Larkin is awake and chatting to herself in her crib. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I have no lovely conclusions. This was just a freewrite. But.... I think I'm back on blogging. </span></div>
Emily S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10982103855213817116noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32430870.post-89407605873804179872018-11-22T08:30:00.000-06:002019-01-08T15:28:31.792-06:00Through My Doorways<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rniguyewEvI/W_XXMpuxlfI/AAAAAAAAJIc/7YPlxvwYhH8RXN55_e9MvRMz7BrrrXB2gCLcBGAs/s1600/5B9A4138.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rniguyewEvI/W_XXMpuxlfI/AAAAAAAAJIc/7YPlxvwYhH8RXN55_e9MvRMz7BrrrXB2gCLcBGAs/s1600/5B9A4138.jpg" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">As I was
moving through my home one day, puttering and tidying, something made me
pause a moment in the hall by my bedroom and I looked into a doorway I
walk into and out of all the time. And this time, instead of looking
past the familiar, I looked AT it. Just stood and looked. And I realized
that if I let myself, I could really love what I was seeing. The story
being told in this one frame. How my husband has loved and collected
Legos for as long as I've known him, and this dressertop has become a
magical place where all his favorite sets get to stay. The bookshelf
that holds the miscellany of books we read to the kids when we're all
piled in our bed together and the books the kids thumb through when they
have Quiet Time in our room. The "Bordeaux" sign I got Joe for a wedding
gift becuase it was where he served his mission. The funny photos in
the frame that used to hang in our entryway, but that I took down when
we had Larkin, since her photo wouldn't fit in the 5-hole frame. A
hastily-taped up Father's Day card to Joe from Quinn.Random catchall piles. A carpet needing vacuuming. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">All of this so commonplace to me that I mostly never really stop to notice anymore. But in this moment, it was sweet to me. It softened my heart and reminded me of how infinite the blessings really are in my life. So I decided, right then, to go get my camera and stand in as many doorways in my home as possible. No tidying, no waiting for a good moment...just a pause in each doorframe and a photograph. So here, on a lowkey November afternoon, are some peeks through my doorways. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PHLnFRU2YsY/W_XXMWWk1wI/AAAAAAAAJIY/clQYF4WNvvky-iqV4mPMgclEk5PpYA2AQCLcBGAs/s1600/5B9A4139.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PHLnFRU2YsY/W_XXMWWk1wI/AAAAAAAAJIY/clQYF4WNvvky-iqV4mPMgclEk5PpYA2AQCLcBGAs/s1600/5B9A4139.jpg" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Through the doorway into the guest room:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Our guestroom has also been Noah's Lego workspace for a year now. He saved and saved and saved last year for that massive Minecraft Lego set on the card table, and was able to buy it for his birthday back in 2017. It was so big and complex that we set up the table in here for him to build it, and for it to have a home for awhile so he could enjoy the set. he has since added three-ish additional small Minecraft sets to accompany the big one, and while he loves sitting here to play, his absolute favorite thing to do with Legos, it turns out, is to commandeer the leftover bits and spare parts from every set and make robots and drones and weapons and other imagination inventions, all teeeeeeeny tiny, and make them the star of his playtimes. So funny! To have the huge sets, but love the teeniest bits best. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-urAjEGMAvrQ/W_XXN7c33mI/AAAAAAAAJIg/7kXPnOp2qRISOaBJlC6gtor16SKvBpxygCLcBGAs/s1600/5B9A4140.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-urAjEGMAvrQ/W_XXN7c33mI/AAAAAAAAJIg/7kXPnOp2qRISOaBJlC6gtor16SKvBpxygCLcBGAs/s1600/5B9A4140.jpg" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Through the doorway into the kids' bunkroom: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I took these photos during Thanksgiving break, and the night before, I mentioned to them that if they made their bed each morning, I'd give them a dime each time. Something about that shiny dime really inspired them, and my kids made their beds every morning for over a week before sputtering out and losing the habit. I should remind them again that the dime offer still stands. Ha ha! We also had time earlier in the day before this photo to do some room-tidying. It truly almost NEVER looks this nice, so it was a really neat treat to happen upon a tidy room when I had my camera in hand. Also, unavoidable self-portrait here. Dang mirror doors. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aixIY06FqIY/W_XXOjo98UI/AAAAAAAAJIo/dL_SYfiuNUoUK5s5XrVbpol0aFpITN3OwCLcBGAs/s1600/5B9A4141.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aixIY06FqIY/W_XXOjo98UI/AAAAAAAAJIo/dL_SYfiuNUoUK5s5XrVbpol0aFpITN3OwCLcBGAs/s1600/5B9A4141.jpg" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Kids' Room, closeup of other side:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Looking pretty tidy here, too. Hooray! Not shown: the pile of dressups tucked against the wall the door frame is in. Conveniently easy to omit from this shot. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-G_HQaWUaCZc/W_XXOX1EBLI/AAAAAAAAJIk/hmZKs_lgt-YYBFIeEMUP-lGwPh8TWOv5wCLcBGAs/s1600/5B9A4143.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-G_HQaWUaCZc/W_XXOX1EBLI/AAAAAAAAJIk/hmZKs_lgt-YYBFIeEMUP-lGwPh8TWOv5wCLcBGAs/s1600/5B9A4143.jpg" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Through the doorway into the dining room:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Our cheerful yellow walls that still have patching putty spots that never got painted over. Oh well. A moon that has a remote control to light it up into phases like crescent, quarter and full. Salt and pepper shakers up on the windowsill to keep them away from Larkin. Little plastic pig figurines on the windowsill for the Bad Manners Pig initiative at mealtimes (if you display bad manners at the table, a parent can bestow the Bad Manners Pig upon you. If someone else makes a manners error, then the pig goes to them. Last person to have the Bad Manners Pig has to clear the entire table at the end of dinner. We almost never play this game. But the pigs are there just in case we need to.) And Larkin's half-finished Happy Meal, abandoned. I make zero apologies for the occasional Happy Meals we bring home. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oo8wxOXztZ8/W_XXOzQly6I/AAAAAAAAJIs/VnqxP0IsQiQMGhS2wLdnG0qlOjCGL5VzQCLcBGAs/s1600/5B9A4146.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oo8wxOXztZ8/W_XXOzQly6I/AAAAAAAAJIs/VnqxP0IsQiQMGhS2wLdnG0qlOjCGL5VzQCLcBGAs/s1600/5B9A4146.jpg" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Through the doorway, into the Photo Room:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Part playroom, part office, part music room, this front room recently got a cheerful update in the form of that beautiful red bench Fiona is sleeping on. I have NO ROOM for more furniture in my home, but when I walked past this bench at the fall Vintage Market Days, I fell so completely in love. It's so cute in its proportions, and the red color is perfection. The seat is a dark walnut color. I kept walking past and telling myself I had NO ROOM for new furniture in my home. But I went home that evening and walked around my house, and decided that if I had to, I would sell or store my little yellow school desk that has been in this spot since we moved here five years ago. And VOILA-- I now had a space for the red bench. Woooo!! And now, a couple of months later, I have NO regrets. Clearly, neither does Fiona. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vTyiDM11Nks/W_XXMHSWf8I/AAAAAAAAJJA/fByZpDX-mk4KpW3iaSTAFbOHt4alFaUzACEwYBhgL/s1600/5B9A4136.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vTyiDM11Nks/W_XXMHSWf8I/AAAAAAAAJJA/fByZpDX-mk4KpW3iaSTAFbOHt4alFaUzACEwYBhgL/s1600/5B9A4136.jpg" /> </a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Through the doorway, into the Photo Room, detail shot:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Quilts and dolls and a glaring kitty. (Don't take my picture. Harrumph.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7Q8lSMiuSPY/W_XXPD_lVEI/AAAAAAAAJJM/az60NSA-P8kXY9KN_84oeLnTvxd2oVT1wCEwYBhgL/s1600/5B9A4148.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7Q8lSMiuSPY/W_XXPD_lVEI/AAAAAAAAJJM/az60NSA-P8kXY9KN_84oeLnTvxd2oVT1wCEwYBhgL/s1600/5B9A4148.jpg" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Through the doorway into the living room:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Look closely and you'll see three Southerland kiddos. Can you name that movie? Also, laundry baskets are always here behind the couch. At least one is empty?? Also, Quinn loves those red pants, and somehow always tries to pair them with that orange shirt. Yikes. Oh well. It's a cute detail I'll laugh at someday. I still hate these curtains, but they are NAILED IN, like, needing a CROWBAR to remove, so I continue to just live with them. It's all good. I spy #melaniequilt. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-228LVEOszSw/W_XXQKaMluI/AAAAAAAAJJU/yrFGWSMqQUUb-R9-9dEFe7gBvy0QIkFowCEwYBhgL/s1600/5B9A4155.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-228LVEOszSw/W_XXQKaMluI/AAAAAAAAJJU/yrFGWSMqQUUb-R9-9dEFe7gBvy0QIkFowCEwYBhgL/s1600/5B9A4155.jpg" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2FyKCLLjhb4/W_XXP_GbFyI/AAAAAAAAJJQ/PmoCG6gYLQAmvA5wnnxEtDvPUPejDUeOACEwYBhgL/s1600/5B9A4152.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2FyKCLLjhb4/W_XXP_GbFyI/AAAAAAAAJJQ/PmoCG6gYLQAmvA5wnnxEtDvPUPejDUeOACEwYBhgL/s1600/5B9A4152.jpg" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Through the doorway into the kitchen pts. 1 and 2: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Peekaboo, Lucy. ā„</span></div>
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<span style="color: #3d85c6;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">*</span></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It's simple. We have abundance and light. We just have to remember to see it. Really see it. I love my home. I love the people populating my home. And I love when I remember to say THANK YOU to all that I am blessed with. </span></div>
Emily S.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10982103855213817116noreply@blogger.com2