Tag Archives: family

On a jet plane…

Feb 18, 2010 001

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

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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…

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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.

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

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

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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 ­čśë Arts and crafts printmaking style!

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Untitled on a Thursday

I’m just going to say it.

I love having my mother in town.

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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.

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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.

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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.┬áNormally 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┬ácushions, 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.

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Found

He sways to Ben Folds┬áin his chair at ‘Donald’s. Fynn┬ásits on his knees,┬ápiercing┬áblue eyes darting from one area to the next. He watches a little girl in a sweatshirt covered in ballet shoes as she dances to the ketchup pump.

The accents are thick with Boston.

I’m trying to stay present in this moment. Focus on where we are, trying to not want for another place.

Or something more than Diet Coke from a soda fountain.

The kids meal sits between us. Chicken nuggets, fries, a prize knight atop a squirrel {don’t ask…} and a castle made out of a jug of milk.

He tells me about the knight and how he must find the castle. And then he glances outside and sees someone hurrying by on the street. Going for a walk in the subzero windchill.

Fynn starts worrying that the little boy lost his mommy.

As we leave, he falls in the parking lot. Scrapes his hands and teardrops begin to fall. In a natural mommy moment I scoop him up in my arms, fly across the parking lot to our car. Into the carseat, check hands, check knees, check noses, wipe tears.

Breathe in salty frozen tears. Focus.

He asks about the little boy again. He needs his mommy. He lost his mommy. We need to catch up, mommy! We drive a ways, and he’s satisfied in knowing the little boy must have made it home. He found his mommy.

And we drive to our castle. Princess and King waiting for us. We’re found.

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Flashback Friday: Snapshots

I have not been with it this week. I didn’t even realize it was… Friday… {and Flashback Friday at┬áJo‘s at that…} ┬áuntil naptime. Earlier in the week I had high hopes for sorting through my memory back and writing the most eloquent of posts about a treasured memory.

Sorry folks ­čÖé

But what I will do tonight is share a few snapshots from our first long {two weeks!} family vacation. It was August of 2007, and my parents rented a cabin in Maine. We all drove up together on a Saturday, and then Lucas went home on Sunday for his first week apart from us. Ever. It was the longest time we’d spent apart since we started dating. The following weekend he came up and was able to spend the rest of the vacation with us. We spent the vacation on the lake, watching Fynn as he tried so very hard to crawl {with no help from the wood floors…} experimenting with camp style baby food, and had some wonderful quality time together. It was peaceful, other than a few cries thanks to a teething baby, beautiful, and as calm as a vacation could be with a nine month old.

These snapshots are courtesy {once again!} of my most talented mother.

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{and this one just makes me giggle!}
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Make sure you hop over to Jo’s at Mylestones for more Flashback Friday posts!

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Winter beach day

Last night I was on a mission. I was going to find our church.

I spent quite a good bit of time online comparing websites of local churches. Church┬ádoctrines and mission statements. I also spent a good deal of time researching the different┬ádenominations, trying to see what church would best suit my beliefs and our family. Ultimately, I know we just have to go out and try a few different churches to see what feels right. But part of me hoped to find one online, fall in love with it, and feel at home before we even stepped foot into the building. If I’m going to be brutally honest, I asked God to leave me a note on my kitchen counter to tell me where to go…

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But neither of those things happened. I now have a few in mind to try, starting next weekend, but I’m still not sure. And I think that’s ok. It’s a process.

But last night, I had worked myself into a frenzy of finding the church. It seemed so necessary, and so urgent.

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This morning, it didn’t seem so urgent. This morning what seemed urgent was all of us getting outside to breathe some fresh air. Salt air. I woke up remembering words and pictures that friends have recently posted about waves, rocks, salt air breezes and gusts. I had mentioned a few days ago to Lucas that I wanted to take the kids to the beach. {I’m omitting the part where he looked at me like I had three heads and thought I was a lunatic for wanting to brave the beach with the kids in the winter…} There’s one near us that’s a little protected from the elements, and there is nothing better for the soul than a walk on the beach. In any season.

So we went.

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We walked, picked up rocks and seashells, smelled the salt air and felt the sand crunch under our winter boots. We took deep breaths and held hands. We walked together, separately, then together again when Fynn called hey, wait up! or wait for me! Paige rode on her daddy’s shoulders, pointed at seagulls and directed where his feet took them. It was one of those beautiful chilly Sunday mornings that you can’t anticipate. They just happen.

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Years and years ago I attended a Congregational church with my father. I sang in the choir {shocking… my kids will one day laugh their heads off if they find out!} There was one church member, I think her name was Marion, but I can’t be sure. I forget how the topic came up, but I remember this vividly. We were standing in the basement meeting room, dawning our red choir robes that smelled of moth balls and whoever wore it the previous week, when she touched my arm and asked me to remember something. God hears you no matter where you pray, no matter where you worship.

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That’s the key. My search for a church, for a community to worship in, will happen. And I’m guessing it will be fruitful. But ultimately, He hears me. Whether it’s on a beach, in our little two bedroom apartment, or in a gigantic church. He hears me.

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