6.22.2017

at the end of most days

we all smell like dirt.

6.20.2017

rest periods


On the way to the pool this morning Tolliver asked us how many whistles we'd stay for, and I remembered exactly what it felt like to measure summer days by the rest period whistle.

6.18.2017

They might be the luckiest boys in the world.

I can't get them all to look at the camera, but they do all look at their dad with the same wide-eyed awe that I have. With the same big brown eyes that he has.
Aside: those dairy cow eyes aren't the only good thing the boys got from their father.
Whether we're sitting in traffic or spilling his coffee or swearing about something that hurts, he is patient and level headed, always listening and forever putting himself last.
He knows that flowers fix most any hot mess kind of day, and that hugs and chocolate and queso and kisses bring us all back to happy in a matter of minutes.
He is totally devoted to our family, and I feel fortunate to be his partner in parenting these kids.

6.14.2017

some of the best seconds

February 2017 - June 2017


6.11.2017

paying attention

Summer is so full of Watch me!s
Cannonballs into the pool and scooter races on the driveway and monkey bar tricks at the playground.
(And babies headed straight for the street.)
The boys are so full of wonder.  They gather my scattered attention with Look! on a constant loop. Look at the baby birds! Look, a cat! Look, the praying mantis egg hatched!
We're trying to spend most of our time outside. I'm trying to put down my phone and soak up the glow of the kids. Brown skin and bare toes. Pajamas till noon and popsicles before dinner and long stretches of time to do exactly as we please. Adventuring, and paying attention.

6.08.2017

Poker Face

6.06.2017

biggest brother

Tucker and I participated in a 5K over the weekend.  Just the two of us, the outing was not prefaced by consideration for every relevant child limitation - weather, endurance, time, gear.  He grabbed a hat and I filled a water bottle and we hit the road.
It's not often that I get time alone with him, the colt-limbed person solving algebraic equations in the backseat, the kind young gentleman who is almost half grown. The one with adultness emerging like the face of David, if Michelangelo had been chiseling from baby fat.
I do not believe it is my job (or within my power) to soften every edge, but I desperately wish a gentle future for him.

6.04.2017

all the food

He eats much of Grandpa Rod's breakfast and then all of his own. An hour later he's hungry again, asking for bites of whatever anyone else might be having. 
The older two are both bottomless pits too. Tucker had a second serving of orange roughy for dinner a few nights ago, and then, still hungry, suggested we maybe order a pizza.

5.31.2017

moving with us

Several people have asked whether it was hard to leave the only place Celia ever lived.
The answer is no, not really.
A wise friend advised us to remind the boys that our memories would be moving with us. Telling ourselves the same thing reminded us that would include the ones of her, too.

Along with memories of her, we moved a tree.  Taking care of it will help us all focus less on the missing and more on the keeping alive.

5.29.2017

weekending



5.25.2017

5.23.2017

Freshly Picked