Sophie’s Tree

October 31, 2011

This is Sophie’s tree. We love it because, from the front porch, it blocks the view of the gas station across the street. And it’s a late bloomer, providing lovely little white flowers in June.

Sophie loves it because the branches are perfect for climbing. I had a tree like that when I was girl, in my front yard. It is one of my strongest memories from childhood—sitting on the same branch, almost every day, shaking the branches above me as if they were puppets. I had names for them. I made up stories about them. I spent many hours up in that tree. It must be in my blood. And Sophie’s blood. For my mom recently said she spent hours in a tree too, as a child, reading books. Homeowners who would like to add new trees in their yard may consider hiring a tree planting expert.

I sometimes miss those parts of childhood, the parts in which it is perfectly normal and acceptable to sit in a tree for no other reason than to sit in a tree. One summer evening, at our old house, before children, I decided on a whim to climb one of the evergreens in our backyard. Climbing up was easy. Climbing down, not so much. I was stuck—high up stuck. I sat in that tree for a long time thinking surely Andy would come out looking for me. But I guess it never occurred to him that his 20something wife might decide on a whim to climb an evergreen tree in our backyard and get herself stuck. So I had to yell. Thankfully Andy heard me yelling and not a neighbor. He helped me down. Yes, the love of trees runs deep in this family. Of course, when trees become too large, damaged, or unsafe near homes, professional services like tree removal Mernda can help homeowners manage their landscapes safely while still appreciating the beauty trees bring to a yard. We hire a professional landscaper to help us with smart seasonal yard prep for changing Texas weather.

Trees can enhance a home’s curb appeal but if there are rotten or dying trees in your yard, they may no longer be beneficial. In this case, an emergency tree removal service may be required.

On this particular day it was so windy, up in Sophie’s tree.

I love the look of wonderment. I miss that.

“To the great tree-loving fraternity we belong. We love trees with universal and unfeigned love, and all things that do grow under them or around them—the whole leaf and root tribe.” —Henry Ward Beecher

A Perfect(?) Fall Afternoon

October 31, 2011

I have been purposefully neglectful about updating my blog. As much as I love my children I haven’t felt much like writing about them upon learning the loss two dear friends of mine have endured. I know it’s cliché to talk about hearts aching but that’s exactly what mine has been doing all week—no parent should outlive their child.

And this is what I struggle with: Why am I allowed a perfect fall afternoon with my three beautiful children while others must suffer so much? Why do bad things happen to good people? Why must there be tragedy, suffering and loss? How is it possible—and right—that while something beautiful is happening something tragic is as well? At any given second someone, somewhere is experiencing the most profound happiness. And at any given second someone, somewhere, is experiencing the most unimaginable sorrow. Why must this be so?

I suppose the answer is something along the lines of better appreciating happiness because sadness exists. And yet, my heart is so heavy. Life can be so unfair, so fantastic, so beautiful, so unkind. I have a difficult time accepting this, understanding this. And so I try to focus on the good—the perfect, sunny, blue-sky, falling leaves, pinwheel-perfect autumn days. The kind meant for falling into a leaf pile and chalking on the sidewalk and finding snake skin and collecting beautiful leaves and fighting your brother for a turn on the rocking chair and throwing your beautiful leaves in the air. And yet. And yet. And yet. Sometimes, some days, it’s too hard. The world’s sadness haunts me.

“When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.” —Kahlil Gibran

Owen’s Helmet

October 31, 2011

Lately Owen has been getting a lot of bumps and bruises on his head. Sophie has taken notice of this and, as such, likes to make sure he’s well-protected.

“The cardinal virtue of a teacher (is) to protect the pupil from his own influence.” —Ralph Waldo Emerson

Tom’s 30th Birthday

October 30, 2011

Early October Sophie and I joined my mom and dad for a trip to North Carolina to help celebrate my brother-in-law Tom’s 30th birthday. Because they already had a full house we stayed in a hotel, which Sophie loved. She had so much fun running the long hallway to our room, admiring the swirly carpet. She was ecstatic about sharing a bed with me, without having to plead. She loved that there wasn’t a footboard on our bed and that she was able to slide down off the end of the mattress and onto the floor over and over and over. And oh, the breakfast buffet. She discovered Fruit Loops—I don’t think she realized cereal could be so colorful or full of sugar.

She was great on the drive. We left late Friday afternoon and got to the hotel very late Friday night (or, morning, rather).

The next day we went directly over to Katy and Tom’s house, and Sophie was instantly put to work icing cupcakes.

The task had an added benefit, which she was quite happy with.

And then Colleen woke up from her morning nap. Sophie and Colleen sat on my mom’s laugh and just smiled and giggled and smiled and giggled. Oh for the chance for them to do that every weekend with each other …

my dad and Colleen

Tom’s sister Christine made lovely party decorations.

There were several children for Sophie to play with at the party—these two were practically inseparable.

Happy birthday, Tom!

Katy with Colleen and Max—see, Katy, you’re so good with two! 🙂

Everything was beautiful. This is Katy and Tom’s garage. It was spotless and filled with tables, chairs, mums, football on TV—a perfect party.

I love this picture.

We spent a lot of time in the hammock.

Nini and Colleen

Pop Pop and Colleen

Sophie made Tom a birthday card.

Tom’s sister Christine and Colleen

Tom’s family bought Tom Legos (which he loves) and graciously gave a kit to each of the children. Sophie loved her little boat and loved helping Tom with the other kits.

Sophie and Alex

Tom’s mom and a sleeping Colleen

Once darkness fell there was fire and we roasted marshmallows—a first for Sophie. This is one of my most favorite things to do and although she was exhausted and pretty much at her breaking point, I loved introducing her to this well-loved life treat.

beautiful Katy and beautiful Colleen

Saturday night Sophie woke up suddenly, coughing like a seal. Yes, croup. So she was unable to see Katy, Tom and Colleen Sunday morning, before our drive home. Sophie and I stayed in the hotel room and colored while my parents had breakfast with them and Tom’s family, and then my parents took Sophie to a park so I could say goodbye to Katy, Tom and Colleen.

The leaves were beautiful on the drive home.

“Rejoice with your family in the beautiful land of life!” —Albert Einstein

Tall Tales from Preschool 3

October 22, 2011

A couple weeks ago, when I asked Sophie about her day, she told me about a man who visited that day, and that he “laid on his back to paint.”

Me: “A grownup or a classmate?”

Sophie: “A man! A grownup.”

Me: “And he was in your classroom?”

Sophie: “Yes. And he laid on his back and painted, just like this.”

(She showed me.)

Me: “What did he paint?”

Sophie: “I don’t know. I’m tired of talking.”

Me: “But he was there? You saw him?”

Sophie: “Yes!”

I thought about this mysterious man for a few minutes, not remembering seeing anything on the school calendar about an artist visiting that week. And then, I remembered something else: Each month the children in Sophie’s class learn about an author, composer and artist. This month’s artist? Michelangelo.

Someday I hope to stand with Sophie in the Sistine Chapel, and tell her this story.

“A beautiful thing never gives so much pain as does failing to hear and see it.” —Michelangelo

On Why I’m Soaking My Contact Lenses in Shot Glasses

October 21, 2011

Our linen closet is the top shelf in the boys’ bedroom closet. And it is there where I store many extras—bars of soap, tissue boxes, razor blades, little bottles of shampoo from hotels and extra contact lens cases. (Actually, now that I think about it, there’s not a single linen on that shelf. But it’s all stuff I would store in a linen closet if I had one.) Monday, I threw away my current contact lens case because of a missing cap. All week long I have intended to grab a new contact lens case from our “linen closet.” And all week long, I’ve forgotten—until after the boys have gone to bed.

Earlier this week I tried to convince Andy to sneak into the boys’ room for me, but he refused. Actually, at first he refused. Then he said I’d have to deal with the boys if they woke up. And then I refused. And there is no way I’m going to successfully attempt to sneak into their room, open the closet door, climb up on a stool, dig around in a basket and extract an extra lens case. Especially when I’m the one who still hasn’t learned where the creaks are in our stairs, something Andy points out to me every time we walk down them together, after finally getting the children to sleep.

And, so, this is why I have soaked my contact lenses in shot glasses every night this week.

Pre-children, I would have thought this story crazy. Post-children, I now understand why, years ago, my mom said she once crawled out of my nursery, after I had finally fallen asleep.

I imagine I’m not alone when I say this: I will do most anything to keep my sleeping children asleep. (As I’m typing this I hear ocean waves. In Fort Thomas. In October.)

“Parenthood remains the greatest single preserve of the amateur.” —Alvin Toffler

The Comfort of Dolls

October 19, 2011

When Owen’s really upset, Sophie will find his favorite baby doll (it’s hers, she shares) and he’ll hug the doll to him and say “aww.” And now, when he stumbles upon a baby bottle, he’ll find one of Sophie’s dolls and gently feed it. Of course, the dolls are sometimes thrown across the room but mostly, for now, the boys handle them gently and with love, which I love.

James enjoys feeding Sophie’s dolls, too, although he doesn’t quite get the bottle-to-the-mouth aspect yet.

“Nothing that grieves us can be called little: by the eternal laws of proportion a child’s loss of a doll and a king’s loss of a crown are events of the same size.” —Mark Twain

Woodfill’s Big Top Festival (Year Two)

October 19, 2011

A couple weeks ago we walked down the street to Woodfill Elementary (where Sophie will go to school) for their annual Big Top Festival. We went last year for the first time, and Sophie loved it.

A lollipop, a dandelion ripe for wish making and pink hair—a 3-1/2-year-old’s dream Saturday afternoon.

happiness

“Life is a festival only to the wise.” —Ralph Waldo Emerson

Jen’s Baby Shower

October 19, 2011

Several weeks ago friends and I had a baby shower for our good friend Jen (isn’t she beautiful?). Her baby is due in just a few days—we can’t wait to meet him.

“It is said that the present is pregnant with the future.” —Voltaire

Mid-September Tradition

October 19, 2011

Sophie’s first Pork Festival doesn’t seem like that long ago. I was about to write about this being the boys’ first Pork Festival when I realized it wasn’t—it was their second. It was Colleen’s first. Time. I know it’s cliché, but it really does fly.

I write about the Pork Festival every year. It’s a part of me, a part of my family, it’s simply what we do—so imbedded that Katy, Tom and Colleen came just for the weekend for it (and we were all so happy they did).

I like, in life, having things I do outside of holidays that I do every single year. There’s reassurance in that. Expectedness. Another symbol of another year gone by. Memories. Tradition.

Colleen was so stylish, in her dark blue jeans, white onesie and knitted pink hat.

I miss her. So much.

Aunt Ellen with my dad

Uncle Mark playing cars with Owen and James. Four children grew up in this farmhouse, the house where my grandma still lives. I’m sure there have been many toy cars pushed along these hardwood floors.