Work in Progress… MOVING!!!

Folks, I have some exciting news!

I’m moving!! The blog that is….

I’m heading back to Blogger, with my own domain this time…  and a bit of a twist.  Are you ready???

Please head over to Trains, Tutus and Tea time and join me at my new home. It’s a little plain, but there’s sprucing up in the works. I just couldn’t wait to share the news (and do not want to deal with the whole exporting deal again….) so I’ll be posting there from now on. All of my previous posts have been moved over, all of my photos. So it’s home.

And I’m excited!

** Please update your readers, blog lists, etc… if that sort of thing applies. Thank you in advance!!!

On a jet plane…

There he sat

On his airplane

Books stacked as high as his ears

For reading material on his trip

To see his Grammy

He flew through the air

Piloting his jet plane

Navigating all the way to Florida

Got off the plane

Imagined that he saw his Grammy

And told her it was time to come home…

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We dropped her off this morning

And miss her already

Fynn said to me, “I’m just sad Mommy. I miss Grammy”

Paige grunted in agreement

I told him I understood

And lifted him up for an airplane ride around the living room

Arms spread wide open

Eyes dancing with memories

Don’t smile… don’t do it!

This afternoon Paige was running around in circles, giggling, with her snow hat and her slightly too big 2T clothes {seriously, when did she get so big?? I learned with Fynn to skip the 24 month size, so we jumped from 18months to 2T… holy mama in shock!) her eyes danced as her feet stumbled…

She was hysterical. Until I broke out the camera and asked her to smile.

Thank goodness I have kids pulling shenanigans right and left, making me smile when I just don’t want to {enter feet stomping and arms crossing…} Laugh when I want to cry. Laugh when I want to pull my hair out and jump up and down over spilled milk. Just laugh. And smile. And giggle.

They tempt me. They tease me. They sit there with their silliness and their 3 year old and 18 month old antics, taunting…

Don’t smile Mommy, don’t do it!!!!

But I always do.

My pint sized blessings… smelling of white grape juice, covered in crumbs and dripping with love.

Fresh slate flakes

Fresh snow fell from the sky all day today
Big clumps of confetti covering the sidewalks
Sticking to eyelashes

For weeks I’ve been begging for a bit of snow
To cover up the muddy leftovers from January storms

It’s lovely
It makes February bearable
This fresh slate

There’s only so much you can do when you’re staring
at the hard frozen snow of yesterday
But new snow?
The possibilities are endless…

Feeling

I’m feeling it.

All of it.

And it’s not always pretty.

I’m tired, but I can’t sleep. I’m exhausted… mentally. I cannot shut my brain off. Wine used to do that for me. It’d help me forget that I could feel. And for someone who feels – a lot – not just for herself but for other people as well, learning how to cope with those feelings after being able to shut them out for so long is draining. To say the least.

So for the past {almost} three weeks, I have had feelings. Lots of them. And I’m trying to learn to own them instead of shove them away and hide from them. I don’t want to hide anymore. I want to live fully, and part of life is having feelings.

They’re not all bad. The other day I saw a few empty bottles of booze at my brother’s apartment. For a moment, panic struck as I wanted to lean over his recycling bin and smell them {sick, I know…} But then the image of a scene in Finding Nemo came to mind. Where a bunch of sharks are holding a Fish are Friends, not Food meeting {similar to an AA meeting…} and they each bring a fish friend to show they’re abstaining from eating their friends. But one of the fish gets hit with a diving mask and bleeds a little {if you haven’t seen the movie, it makes no sense, but I know most of you have kids who’ve seen the movie at least once!} So then one of the sharks, who has given up eating fish, gets a whiff of the fish’s blood, and a crazed look comes across his face. The other sharks see and yell “INTERVENTION!!!!” and race to their shark friend, trying to free him of his inner demons.

Thinking of that scene made me laugh. Made me feel a little bit lighter faced with my enemy.

So about these feelings, not all of them are bad. Some of them are trying. Some of them make me want to hid out under my covers. Some are sweet, and some are funny.

No matter what they are, I’m feeling them. All of them. Embracing, even.  Laying out a warm welcome with hot tea and banana muffins.

They’re making me whole, filling the dark spots in my soul with bright, brilliant light.

A bit of love

I’ve posted about love twice this past week

I love LOVE

Hearts and paper cards

Sweet words and quiet shows of affection

Hugs that are tighter because of the honesty and trust between two people

Love surrounded us today

From chocolate cupcakes and donuts to warm cuddles during a snuggly nap

We don’t need a special day to remember that we love each other

But we’ll take every extra opportunity to revel in our love

Sending a bit of love out to the blogosphere tonight…

Boots and guitars

My little brother is Uncle Toby to my kids {or, as they say on occasion, Uncle Toad-y} To them, he’s some sort of super hero. They adore him. They climb on him, he throws them in the air, carries them upside down.

He’s a big fan of the kids.

He’s also a big fan of the fact that he doesn’t have to get up in the middle of the night with them, or wipe their bums.

To my kids, he’s the best thing since sliced bread. Or, in their case, fruit crushers from Trader Joe’s.

Yesterday we dropped my mom off at Toby’s place for a few nights before she comes back to us for the rest of her visit. The kids and I had never actually been to his apartment… but after today, I think we’ll be more frequent visitors. Who cares if the place isn’t childproof? They possibly had more fun there than at the Children’s Museum.

Why? Because Uncle Toby has three guitars.

Books that Paige can sink her teeth into… {seriously, the girl might have more refined tastes in books than either of her parents…}

And Boots. Biker boots. And a “motorcycle” {aka a bike… but Fynn thinks it’s a motorcycle, so that’s way cooler} inside.

He also has the best hot chocolate, plays his guitars, shows the kids how to play his guitars, and lets them run around like wild horses in his apartment. Fynn could barely contain himself while he talked about our adventures at Toby’s at the dinner table.

Watch out Toby, next time we’ll be diving into your printmaking equipment 😉 Arts and crafts printmaking style!

Today, I understood

There are days when I look at my kids and I’m awestruck. By their hearts, their beauty, their being. The hugeness of it all.

And I wonder how it’s possible that they are their own beings, and yet so much like me. Like Lucas. Like each other.

It boggles my mind that I had a hand in creating them. I can’t put into words what I feel… I’m amazed that they can think for themselves, that they have intuitions, that they function. Does that make any sense? They were just babies not that long ago, but now… now they have opinions and likes and dislikes. They’re growing into themselves.

And we get to watch all of it. The stumbles and falls. The hopes and dreams. We get to see, and sometimes fear, that we live in them.

Today I stood back and watched my children explore a new place. I watched them learn new tricks. They jumped, and sometimes fell.

Today, I understood.

“Having children is like letting your heart walk around outside of your body.” ~Author unknown

Flashback Friday ~ Love

Remembering the Reasons was originally posted on November 24th, 2009

The last time we moved {almost two years ago} we didn’t unpack our numerous boxes of books. Our reasoning? We cannot have bookshelves with toddlers without anchoring them to the walls. And we didn’t want to do that… because we didn’t think we’d be here that long. Oh and space, we have no space for bookshelves.

Fast forward to knowing we’ll be here for three years total.

I miss my books.

So over the weekend I went searching through hundreds of books for one or two in particular. I went through every single box, because {of course} the specific few I went looking for were in the last box, in the way back of the second thoroughly disected closet, under about six other boxes. In the process, I found about a dozen others that just had to be brought out. Some were mine, but most were my husbands. You see, between my Political Science degree with an English minor, and his English major, we have quite the collection.

Through a closet and two rooms  I called out “Hey, how was Gandhi’s autobiography?”, “did you know you had so many of Kerouac’s books?” and I might have muttered something along the lines of “how many works of Shakespeare can two people possibly own?” They all took me back.

All of those books played an instrumental role in the story of Corinne & Lucas. The first time I saw his apartment I was in love. It was perfect. It was located on a gorgeous street in a historical old New England town. He resided on the top floor of a renovated house, centuries old, with angled ceilings and tiny windows. A view of the street, without the noise, where you could see the snow on the town common accompanied by dog walkers and couples taking a brisk February stroll. But while it had all the staples of a bachelor pad {you know… dvd’s, video games, bare fridge, the just cleaned for a date smell…} it also had books. Rows and rows of books.

And I love books.

We sat and talked about different titles. I stole several minutes staring at the antique works and finely bound collections. The man had books. And he actually read them. He showed me albums of places that he’d been, told me stories of traveling through Europe alone, he came to life as he exposed his love of road trips, nature, and art. It wasn’t one of those first date shows, there was something so sincere and passionate about all that he had done, and all that he wanted to do.

I loved him.

And over the weekend as I got my answers to the questions I called out, “It’s good if you want to know what Gandhi ate” and “yes, I know” and even “did you say something?” I felt this warm fuzzy feeling that you get when you remember a forgotten reason. I smiled to myself several times looking through our collection. At points you could tell which one came from where, a definite his and hers; but the more years we’re together the more the divide dwindles.

I miss our books.

And I still love him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today I’m taking part in Jo’s Flashback Friday. Today’s prompt is LOVE…  Head over to check out more blasts from the past!

Untitled on a Thursday

I’m just going to say it.

I love having my mother in town.

I don’t mind that we’re practically on top of each other when she’s here, staying in our little apartment. Fynn doesn’t mind that she snuggles with him at night, sharing his full size bed. Paige doesn’t mind having another person to carry her around upside down.

And even though I’m married, with two kids, in my late twenties, I still don’t mind if she wants to clean my stove top.

She wears the kids out, reads endless stories to them {even makes up some of her own, about little boys named Fynn going on rocket ships…} and gives so much love.

One of the huge bonuses about having her here, 24 hours a day, is that I can take the kids out one at a time. Even if it’s just on errands, that time is precious, for all of us. We both get to see how the kids are one on one, which regular days don’t always allow.

Today I stole Paige away and we went and picked up my new glasses. They’re similar to the ones I wore in college, the ones I wore up until last fall. The most recent ones were nice {and not terribly different…} but they weren’t really me. Paige saw the new glasses on me for the first time and smiled and pointed. I’ll take that as a compliment.

After we picked up my glasses we went on a spur of the moment trip to Barns & Noble. I had a few things in mind… but wasn’t sure I’d be able to find them. Books on faith, alcoholism, recovery. A magazine that features a new friend. Normally when I go in to a huge bookstore I get overwhelmed, and find everything but what I came in for.

Today? Each one of the four items I was looking for practically leapt out at me.

So I had to get them.

I’ve been so good at using the library. I believe so deeply in the library. But I wanted to hold these books. To be able to dive in with a highlighter and to underline the passages that speak to me. I want to dive in to escape. But to escape to a place similar, except with different names. I want to live what I’m going through, but to do so I have to see it from different eyes, different words, at times.

Through this trip, I got to spend some alone time with Paige. It doesn’t happen often… Fynn normally jumps at the opportunity to get out without his sister. But today he said he wanted to stay home. Thanks to my mom he could {and apparently they had a wonderful time together… they drew pictures of Saturn, went swimming through a sea of couch cushions, and then greeted me at the door in his Wall-E underwear}.

At the book store we saw the nurse who discharged me from the hospital with both kids. She was kind, and sweet. Part of me wanted to run up to her and give her a hug, show her Paige. But I kept my distance. Kept the thoughts of how it was funny to run into her today, since Paige will be 18 months old tomorrow.

In those 18 months, she’s blossomed. Grown so much, and is such a sweet little girl.

Paige carried a copy of Anne Lamott’s Traveling Mercies through the bookstore. At the checkout counter she was reluctant to hand over the book, but she did. She waited anxiously for the cashier to give her the book back. No bag necessary for Paige. She clung to that book like it was gold. On the ride home she thumbed through the soft pages, ooo’ing and ahh’ing.

She’s my girl.

So yeah, I don’t mind having my mom in town. She brings with her moments and memories that are never planned, but always leave imprints on my heart.