Long-Lost No Longer

Happiness for a five year old boy?
Staying up to play foosball with his long lost cousin twin, five years removed. They share buzz cuts, bright eyes, left-handedness, a love of all things athletic, and good old-fashioned DNA.

And happiness for the five year old boy's Mama?
Knowing from here on out, I'll never have to describe the cousins as "long-lost" again.

This sweet little-big gift shared with Chatting at the Sky for Tuesdays Unwrapped.

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Flashback Friday: Our First Family Vacation

He was a year and four chins old when we took our first family vacation. He was as happy a baby as he was pudgy. And did I mention he was too cool for school?
I mean, how many toddlers do you know that can do such a spot on Dr. Evil impression?
And what's a vacation without naps in the hammock with Daddy?
Or, if you happen to be the oft-neglected dog, what's a vacation without a little game of surf and fetch?
And to top it all off, some of our best friends in the whole wide world joined us for the week-long beach hiatus. Even at 12 and 21 months, Caed and Max were inseparable.
(And yes, those are some serious cankles he's got going on.)

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Your turn! Write a post (or unearth an old one) that takes us down memory lane, and then come on back here to link it up. Pretty please?
Oh, and just a heads up that we'll be taking a break from Flashback Friday next week, returning to regularly scheduled programming on April 30th.

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Today I Woke Up

Last night I had a dream.
She was suddenly falling, my little girl, through murky water, down and down and down. And I was in the water too, and I couldn't sink fast enough to catch her. And there seemed to be no bottom (to what in my dream I called Lake Erie), and I couldn't reach her. I couldn't. And when I lost sight of her altogether--when I caught the last glimpse of her fine hair floating up as her little limbs sped down--I woke myself up from the grief I couldn't bear to dream about much less live.

Now I'm sitting outside in real life, and she is wearing two shades of pink on top, two shades of purple on bottom and a Harley Davidson helmet on her head. She wheeled her tricycle aside, and now with slip-on shoes slipped on the wrong feet, she's dribbling her pink soccer ball into the net that stands half as tall as she is. (How ever did she get so tall?) So far, she's made five goals and we've exchanged five high fives. Oh wait--make that six.

When horrors happen under real waters or on top of real operating tables, when life falls apart on the driveway, in a court room, down a back alley, we hear it said. I just wish I could wake up, that this was all just a bad dream.

Today I woke up. It was just a bad dream. Today I live what so many have wished. Today I am wide awake to the joy that stands in direct opposition to the grief, to the losing that makes the finding a gushing relief. Today I am wide, wide awake.

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In case you are at all curious about Flashback Friday

Before I forget AGAIN, just a quick note about this week's Flashback Friday. Here are a few prompts to help you come up with a fantastic flashback:

• A memory involving spring
• Tales from spring break
• Family vacation
• Road trips

Start jogging your memory, and we'll see you back here Friday!

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Playing (with) Favorites

Once upon a weekend, there was a girl (who liked to pretend to be a Doggie-Princess) and a boy (who liked to make up games for the Doggie-Princess-Girl to play, really just so he could be the boss). And after the Boss-Game-Boy and the Doggie-Princess-Girl had transported every last blanket, toy and book to the "doggie house" in the kitchen, the Mommy (did we mention her yet?) couldn't take it anymore.

"That's it!" she barked. "Let's clean up this mess. Let's get on our shoes! We're going outside."

"But ruff-ruff, doggies don't wear shoes, ruff." Said the Doggie-Princess-Girl.
"Yes they do. Here Doggie, see if you can go faster than me getting on your shoes. Nope! I won already!" Said the Boss-Game-Boy.

"Grrrr." Thought the Mommy.

But she knew. She knew if she could just get in that car (and get those shoes on the Doggie-Girl), if she could just head toward the misty air, it would all be okay.

And she was right.

Because no sooner did they head down the Cliff Walk, the Doggie-Princess-Girl magically turned back into the Mommy's favorite little girl. And the Boss-Game-Boy magically turned back into the Mommy's favorite little boy.

And the Grumpy Mommy magically turned back into the Grateful Mommy--the one who realizes what a treat it is to play with her favorites.

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Flashback Friday: Forgetful

Umm...soooo...apparently it is Friday today?
And from what I can gather, I usually host a little Flashback Friday series here on the old (increasingly neglected) blog. But alas, I didn't provide a theme for the week, nor did I write a flashback post.

I'm blaming this week's floor-mopping frenzy for my Flashback Friday forgetfulness (and more specifically, a little too much exposure to Murphy's oil soap). I'm blaming my ridiculous indulgence in alliteration on my 10th grade English teacher.

So how about this. Let's just run with the theme of FORGETFULNESS. Write about a time when you forgot something or someone. Or write about an experience or person that was UNFORGETTABLE. Or write about whatever you please. Then come on back here and link up. Sound good?

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Mine, For the Trying

I stared for a few moments at a Monet painting, shrugged my shoulders and walked away unimpressed. If his name had not been on it, if it had been hanging in a hole-in-the-wall gallery, I might have even dismissed it as amateur, a Monet wannabe.

Monet was undoubtedly a master artist. But does that mean everything he painted was a masterpiece? I don't think so. I've come to believe that even master artists paint with mediocre strokes now and then. I've come to believe that all great artists, writers, leaders have, at one (or many points) flopped and floundered.

And so I take that truth and turn it into freedom to allow mediocre strokes to slip into my life's art. Surely it is better to dip the brush in color and begin the painting-living (no matter how ugly the outcome) than to stare at a blank canvas, paralyzed by fear of failing at a masterpiece attempt?

So I must try, and not despair when I fall short, when I fail to inspire. I must try again. And again, until the failing becomes not nearly as scary as the not trying.

And maybe, when I stand back enough years, I'll see--what once looked up close like nothing but messy strokes and blurred colors--a vivid, inspiring masterpiece. Mine, for the trying.

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What do you find scarier--the failing or the not trying?
Is there an area of your life that you've held back, left the canvas blank? What will it take for you to dip your brush in color and begin?

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Front Row Moments

I watch her, running barefoot on the lukewarm lawn and blowing bubbles (really, more like spitting) against the breeze. And I feel like the luckiest girl alive, to be her mother.
And to be here, not missing this. Not missing her.
I know I can only sign up for a moment at a time. I've tried, but I can't convince Tomorrow to save me a spot. I'm not guaranteed a seat in the next moment, next day, next season. But I do have a seat right now--front row to the beauty that sends my heart leaping.

And I would be a fool not to claim it--the best seat in the house, to lean into the moment, to applaud and to answer "yes" when she asks "Did you see that Mama?", to say I wouldn't miss it for the world.

Sharing this post with Tuesdays Unwrapped, hosted by Emily at Chatting at the Sky.

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And So We Did

I texted Daddy to let him know where we'd be, in case he made an early escape. He texted back to say how he wished he could join us. Take pictures, he said.

And so I did.


I told them to yell, "Hi Daddy!"
And so they did.We explored every unfenced nook and cranny of the fort. Along the way, Dani became enthralled with her shadow. "Hold my hand, Mommy," she commanded. And then not ten seconds later, she scolded me, "Hey! You're breaking my shadow! Stop breaking my shadow!" I let go of her hand. "You better run ahead," I said. "It's the only way to fix your shadow."

And so she did.
"Hey Bud! Sit down here and smile really big," I told him.
And so he did. (So big he shut his eyes, threw back his head and said "OCEAN!")

We explored up close.
We gazed from far away.

We read every sign, the ones educating us about the battery and submarines, the ones reminding us to keep off the light house lawn. And when we were through, we all grabbed hands and blended shadows.

I thought to myself that I must savor this, these fleeting moments with my girl of 3 and boy of 5, this beauty that won't always be waiting for us a few miles away.

And so I did.

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I Remember Sisters & Spring

I remember the posing tree, the one Uncle Bruce would use for staging, motioning to this side and that, chins up and smile.

I remember the accidental bursts of summer in late spring, when Mom would pull the hand-me-down clothes from the attic. How I clamored like a homesteader to try the ruffly sundress on first, staking my gingham claim.

I remember the sidewalks, the ones that scraped knees and etched grooves into the plastic of my Big Wheel.

I remember the mint growing next to the brick house, how it perfected the sun tea.

I remember the clothes line and the stiff feel of wind-blown terrycloth.

I remember the seedlings under the lights, the promise of a garden.

I remember feeling like the whole world revolved around whether we'd get a dessert--and whether it was carrot cake or brownies--or if we'd be allowed to stay up later. Just 15 minutes more?

I remember sisters and spring and climbing a tree so high that I swayed when the wind blew.
I remember wishing to be all grown up. But for the life of me, now, I can't remember why.

I'd love for you to join in with your own flashback. Share a memory, a story, a picture from your past and then paste the link to your post using the MckLinky form.

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