Being on the Plaza tonight reminded me of this night. We took C to the Plaza in 2006 to capture yet another Christmas card photo (it is kind of an obsession at this house). She looked stunning in her fur-rimmed coat and hat, her golden curls falling out from beneath the brim. This was pre-J times, and she was the CENTER of our world...she still is really, the center just grew a bit to make room for J, too.
I was going through old CDs of digital pictures from back in 'the day' and I found photos from this day. This day back in 1999 (gasp that felt weird to type, my girls are going to think I am SO old to have lived before 2000, heck I feel old). This day when Jon had to jump to climb on Brandon's back, a back he now towers over. This day when my brother slept in the room next to mine, not three states away. This day when my dad bought my food, made my car payments and my only job was to learn (oh those were the days). This day when I watched a would-be Division I basketball player take shots with my would-be husband. This was a good day. 
This weekend is serving as a reminder of a lot of things for me. First, how I should not overcommit my time as it makes me extremely irritable and not a very nice person to be around. Second, and more importantly, that there is a very SPECIAL love a mother has for her children. My sister and I trudged the children out to the very-muddy pumpkin patch this morning - simply because someday we will *fondly* remember watching them hold hands as they trip through the pumpkin vines in search of the oddly-perfect pumpkin. Over lunch, after getting all five children situated and eating we began to chat and suddenly Emily's sweet little girl pulled a move straight out of The Exorcist as she projectile vomited all over the table without warning. My sister's first reaction was to pat her back, tell her it's 'ok' and then to clean it up without a wince or look of disgust. Someday Natalie will *fondly* remember how much her mama loved on her, even when she was gross. As we rushed back to KC to our next activity J covered her fingers, clothes, face, etc in chocolate chip cookie. I threw her in the tub with C in the short time we had to prep for the parade and soon I heard "Mommy! The tub is full of poop!" [sorry if you have a weak stomach, this was not a day for the weak of stomach!] So I quickly pulled two giggling girls out of the tub to prep for their next big appearance. Someday we will all *fondly* remember bath time, and giggling, though probably not the poop so much. It all reminded me of a story my Grandma tells of a day she took my uncle [the sweet boy in the middle of my mom and Aunt above] to buy new shoes. He was very little, and shoes were no small expense. She picked them out, put them on his little feet and drove home. Upon pulling in the driveway and retrieving my uncle from the back seat she found him to be without shoes. She asked him where they had gone. He replied "I didn't like them, so I threw them out the window". And indeed, back in the day before car A/C he had, indeed, thrown his brand-new shoes out the open window somewhere down the highway. What is beautiful about this story is hearing my Grandma tell it. There is a laughter in her eyes that takes her back over 40 years ago, and she smiles the whole time. She *fondly* remembers these times, because there is a SPECIAL God-given love we have for our kids, even in the ugliest, grossest, messiest, costliest moments.
I remember this day, oh how I am so glad the camera was handy! It was in late May, the world was just thawing out from a long winter as our little J was growing into her fifth month of life. She was SO laid back, content to bounce in her seat and watch C introduce her to the world of all things girly. And on this particular afternoon I had left the two alone for a mere two minutes to run to the bathroom. As I came back into the kitchen I found C, thrilled to share all of her baby dolls with her brand-new-and-very-best-friend - piling them several feet high on the bouncy seat in which J lounged. The best part was that J was completely content, simply watching her big sister, whom she was (and still is) completely enamoured with.
I was a lucky kid growing up. Not only did I have a brother, and two sisters - but I had a truck-load of cousins as well. However, the plethora of cousins didn't materialize until I was in elementary school or even older, with my latest cousin being born once I was in college. So reaching back into long-long ago, there was a time when 'we' were just three. It was just Christopher, my trusy little brother, me and then Michael, my he-haw-larious cousin. We would anticipate visits by Michael to Albuquerque with much excitement, as we would surely inflict our He-Man and She-ra costumes on him, not to mention Batman and Robin, the Smurfs and the likes. He would return the favor by educating us on the likes of Ghost Busters and Back-to-the-Future. Since Michael and Christopher were only a year-apart in age, they were pals, and we've got dozens of 'pal-ish' pictures to prove it. But often enough they let me be part of the club, and much fun would be had. I always thought Michael was SO funny, like a mini-Jim Carey able to contort his face and voice to do the funniest things. And he was a good friend, too. When I took the very (insanely) early bus to Junior High, which passed by his house, he would stand at his bedroom window and wave to me every morning - just to give me a happy start to my day. He's cool like that. And so I'm a little sad, because he's moving on to the big city in a few weeks. He has just taken a job in New York City. As with Christopher, I'm happy for him but at the same time I'm selfisly sad to loose another great pal from my childhood and now a friend in this 'grown-up' life. Michael is a genuine guy, candid and still he-haw-larious. As with Christopher, I'll worry about him, and nag him with phone calls and emails to make sure he's still good, and to remind him that we miss him and can't wait to see him again...and to suggest that he bring back the Ghost Buster suit, for old times sake!
That handsome guy, the one in the back row - the one with the emo glasses (so ahead of his time), is my dad. And before I go on, can I just say that my Grandma's hair was fantastic and I would love to see how she kept it like that because WOW I can't even maintain a bob - let alone a beehive. But, for the moment my attention is on my dad. A born engineer, my dad is a genius, or at least that's what my siblings and I have always, and continue to believe. No math problem could stump him, no physics riddle too tricky. My mom says that he made flash-cards for me as a baby in an attempt to encourage my own smarts - smarts that never reached the calibur of his own, but such a lofty goal to at least encourage a good effort. Sometimes it seems odd to call myself an engineer, in comparison with this engineering protype that is my dad. When I walk into his office on campus and his chalk-board is covered in Greek symbols and bizarre diagrams I can't help but feel like an imposter. He was born to think these incredible, complex thoughts - and frequently my mind is wandering off to pear-cafe curtains and bird necklaces. Even as a kid I wanted so badly to find pure fascination in all that he found interesting, Air shows and Army Surplus Stores, and science museums...but too often I was distracted by the gift shop or snack vendors. Yet, there is enough of a hint of wonderment, enough to justify a career I suppose, as I catch myself saying "oh, that's awesome" at the TV commentator explaining the construction of the World's Greatest This-or-That. All of his hard work and hours at the kitchen table doing logic puzzles must have rubbed-off a little I suppose. Like I said, My Dad Rocks.
My mom says that she can distinctly remember the day Kennedy was shot. She was just pulling her chair up to the TV, following a long day at kindergarten, to watch Captain Kangaroo. She was not happy that the program had been interrupted to announce the assassination.
Though most schools were overly-excited and decided to start a bit early, the week after Labor Day feels like the official 'first week of school'. And first day of school photos have got to be some of the most classic of childhood. I have many memories of first-days. One that sticks out is the first day of kindergarten when I fell on the playground and busted my beaded bracelet all over the playground (yes, back then I actually accessorized, I don't know what happened). I distinctly remember thinking "What a terrible way to start my first day of school". Of course what better way is there, really, than matching your colorful socks to your totally hip outfit (see exhibit A above) Christopher even went with the sock-matching-theme.
The girls and I went out to KU to visit my sister at her dorm today. Classes started yesterday and the energy on campus made me miss those college days. One thing life-after-college is missing is the ebb and flow, the seasons that academia has adopted so well. With every big 'first day' you know there is a not to distant 'final', even if a professor seems extra cruel, or a class difficult - all you have to do is bear it out for sixteen weeks, not so much with real life. What's more, the brevity of every semester helps you to savor the discussions, celebrate the accomplishments, and appreciate the experience all the more. I overheard students talking about how much homework they already had, and what their expectations were for this professor or that course...it sounded nervous and excited and I really miss that. We wandered down the street to Mrs. E's, the finest darn cafeteria food I've ever had in my life (seriously, I'd consider grad school for life if I could eat there three meals a day). I fondly remember Mrs. E's. Not just for the food but for the hours of conversation that took place over the food. My roommate, Jennifer, and I would literally take hours to complete a dinner. We would make elaborate salads at the salad bar, then sit and talk. On to the main couse, and then more talking. Of course there would always be at least one round of dessert and plenty more talking. These meals could take 2+ hours, and all the while my sweet B would sit and listen quietly, patiently, as his food was long since gone and he had to have been bored to tears. I am glad there are places like this, with energy and youth abounding - and I am excited that my girls will get to be apart of it as they both practiced chanting in Anna's dorm "Rock Chalk Jayhawk KU!"
[A little late again, I've been off my game lately] This weekend my little brother moved away to go to grad school in Madison. While the amazing technology of internet (thank you Al!) and cell-phone keep him just a text-message-away, I am still sad that he can't stop by for dinner, or meet me in Westport for lunch anymore. At the same time I'm so proud of him and all that he has done, and is yet to do. So, I had to share this photo of my brother and me. We were about five and three, all decked out for an afternoon of playing 'house', notice the oversized shoes. My brother has always been great with going along with whatever hair-brain scheme I came up with. He was a fantastic playmate for a bossy older sister! Playing 'house' has gotten more serious as of late, but he still entertains my silly ideas and now is a great playmate to my two little (bossy) girls.
Yes, it would have made more sense to have posted this sometime in May, however my garage purge this weekend resulted in me running across my scrapbook from my senior year, and therefore recollecting all of the 'fun' that was 1999. These pictures kind of make me smile, and kind of make me wonder 'what was I thinking!?!' about many things really. If I could do it all over again, ten years later, I certainly would have done some things differently - most importantly a much more flattering prom dress ~ sheesh. I would have spent less time worrying about what others were thinking, especially boys. I would have been a better friend. And I would have thought long-and-hard about what I really wanted to be when I grew up (and therefore avoiding four changes of major in college). But it isn't all regrets. I'm glad I studied my brains out like the huge nerd that I am. And I am so glad that I was boy crazy enough to notice the shy redheaded boy on the soccer field. {If you want to see the unflattering prom dress, my goofy friends, and a terrific picture of Ross and Brandon being themselves, click here.}
As we drove down old I-70 this weekend to take the girls to St. Louis, I couldn't help but remember our family trip to St. Louis about 1993. Nine months prior my dad had sat us all down for a family meeting. He proposed that if we did well the following school year, behaved, helped around the house, etc. he and my mom would take us on a family trip to St. Louis. He even promised a train ride to get there. Being geographically challenged, we thought this was as good as Paris or Tokyo for all we knew. We were thrilled, and motivated though I don't recollect how long it took for the motivation to wear-off (I'm thinking hours, maybe just minutes). Nevertheless we must have behaved well-enough, because an early morning the following summer Grandma dropped us at the old train depot and we headed down the track. The picture above was taken as we were waiting for the train at the station...we were SO excited. As I recall the trip was a blast, better than Paris! We hit the Magic House and the Science Museum - and the best part was my mom harrassing the attendant at the top of the Arch because she could feel the arch swaying and it was FREAKING her out (how she survived the trip to the top in the Mork-and-Mindy pod was shocking). Besides learning about science, and how to deal with irrational customers at the top of high-swaying arches, the lesson I found most valuable from the experience was the power of a good bribe, which is why we're dangling Disney over C's head like a carrot in front of a hungry donkey.
Since last Saturday was our five-year-anniversary, that means that five years ago tonight we were enjoying the last night of our cruise to the eastern Carribean, the last night of our very wonderful honeymoon. While the events leading up to the cruise were exciting (and frightening, as we forgot the camera back in Lawrence, realized it about one-in-the-morning and drove the two hours from the hotel to my parent's house and back - all the while we were both dozing like crazy...it's a miracle we even survived the first twenty-four house, let alone the next five years!) Nevertheless, the moment we stepped on the cruise liner, we were able to relax. Our wedding had followed my senior year in college by only a few months. I had been wound tighter-than-a-top, and this was the moment when I could let out a huge exhale and just 'be'. With no access to phones, and only very expensive Internet access, we were alone in this little world, and it was wonderful. For those of you who have never been on a cruise, it is incredible. We spent our days playing ping-pong on the deck overlooking the ocean. We watched the sunset together every night. We even got in games of mini-golf on the upper deck. The boat stopped at beautiful beaches, we saw St. Martin, St. Thomas and St. Johns. Mostly we slept - and ate. By far the food is a highlight not soon forgotten. Before the boat had even departed the dock we had scoped out the buffet. The dinners were amazing, and if you liked your entree or your potatoes or your dessert, they would bring you more - and more - and more. Needless to say we both would agree it was the best vacation either of us have ever been on. Someday we would love to go back - to get away from it all.
On Saturday Brandon and I will have been married for FIVE years. On July 19th in 2003 we were married at Our Lady of Sorrows in downtown Kansas City. To say this is a 'fond' memory is an understatement. My wedding day has to be one of the best memories of my adult life. We started out the morning by having Juice Stop together in Lawrence, we decided what better person to start this day with than eachother? Then he was off to buy his own $15 wedding ring (the original ring having been purchased so far in advance it was lost in the 'super safe' place it had been stored). We didn't see eachother again until I walked down the aisle, something that I am glad we did though I do not have a distinct memory of that moment besides feeling SO awkward as everyone is staring and I think to myself, 'Geez I've been smiling a REALLY long time...I hope this doesn't look fake' (yeah, the thoughts that run through my head are bizarre!) The church was gorgeous and after the ceremony we headed to our reception where we danced and cut cake and were SO glad to be married. As I have said before, I would have married Brandon within weeks of meeting him, so waiting through the four years of college tried my patience immensley. I am so grateful to have found someone who is so perfectly matched to me. That picture still plays out in our kitchen, him giving me a little kiss and me beaming because I know this guy is SO good.
Celebrating the birth of a new baby is one of the most intimate, and miraculous experiences I've had the priveledge of being a part of in my life. When you are not only celebrating the baby, but the fact that they are family, that our family just grew by one, that is all the more wonderful, something you remember forever. I have had this memorable and fun experience five times so far, with many more still to come I hope. When Nathan was born I left work in the middle of the day to witness my sister in labor (something I'd never seen before in person, but after the epidural she just looked like someone taking a relaxing rest in an uncomfortable bed with an incredibly awkward nightgown on). Sam was next, I listened to my voicemail right before an important meeting and heard 'she's in labor' and could hardly sit still through the next couple of hours - having had C by this point, my anxiety for fellow-baby-bearers was high. We drove out to visit the little guy that evening in Columbia and C's cousins grew to two. That was the beginning of 2006, by July I was pregnant with J and welcoming baby Natalie. The night she was born I told my sister, "Call me as soon as it's time to push, I'll be there!" - which turned out to be about 3AM, but I was SO there. Being at the hospital in the middle of the night is very quiet and peaceful, and she looked a lot like her big brother. J was born that December and by the next August we were welcoming baby Noah. C was old enough by now to understand that we were waiting in the waiting room for a 'baby to come out of Emily's tummy' - and once again he looked a lot like his siblings. The latest addition to my nieces and nephews was Joel. I got the call on J's first birthday that he'd been born. I almost cried I was so excited (and exhausted probably from J's whacked sleep habits). Despite the weatherman calling for an ice storm we headed out to Columbia that night and welcomed baby Joel, C in her princess dress and all. I am anxious to welcome the next one, and the next, and the next!
There are two holidays that really, really matter to me. Christmas (for obvious reasons) and the 4th of July. You see there is this swimming pool, and this front yard, and this front porch, and this house where I have spent nearly every July 4th that I can remember. The same core people are always there, too. And we eat a big lunch together and we throw snap-n-pops, swim in the warm July sun until the little ones are exhausted, then light fire crackers in the front yard. My Grandma's house is the most precious place in the world to me. [In 3rd grade I had to write about my most important 'treasure' and mine was about my grandma's house]. I love that this tradition is so simple and so reliable. I love that my little girls play on the same ladder (in the picture) that I played on when I was their age. I love that the food is always amazing and abundant. I love to watch my Grandpa laugh as he watches the kids play. I love the sound the basement stairs make when people walk up them, as familiar as an old song in my mind. Mostly I love all of my family that spend this day together, as always...my cousins, my aunts and uncles, my parents, my grandparents - we are connected at the roots and that leaves me with such a secure feeling, knowing there's always a 4th of July coming, even if it is 364 days away.
It is one of the most fun things you do in preparation of your first baby, preparing the nursery. By the second baby the nursery has lost its luster, as you realize that the baby really doesn't care, nor use it all that often in a lot of cases. Visions of the baby cooing and happily stacking blocks as it sits adorably in the center of the immaculate room are actually just illusions, like a mirage in the desert. But that doesn't make the preparation any less meaninful in your memory. This was C's nursery. We had our wonderful house in Lawrence (I still love that house and wish we could have tranplanted it to Kansas City) and we chose the secluded back bedroom for our new baby's nursery. Brandon laid out the room in AutoCAD to plan the exact placement of the wide blue stripes. His mom made the bedding, which was gorgeous, and I loved it. We sad night-after-night contemplating furniture placement, assembling the crib, gingerly folding sweet tiny clothes. When we sold our house in Lawrence the only room I cried over was the nursery, it really was perfect in that moment for us, and it was so hard to leave it. So why am I recollecting this time for you? Well, this weekend we are dismanteling the crib, presumably for good as we're thinking we're all through with having kidlets, and since J never once spent the night in it - it shouldn't be too big of an emotional event...but it does make me a little sad. I guess I should be grateful that the girls are growing, they are healthy and fun and beautiful and many people never even get the chance to watch their little ones grow. I just wish that I could freeze time today, because I know these moments are flying by, and they are so precious.
Since he doesn't get a lot of attention on Friday's Fond Memories, I thought Brandon deserved another. Besides, he was pretty darn cute. This is Brandon, probably around Julia's age, playing in a make-shift fort with his older brother, BJ. His hair almost looks like a toupee its so thick, which he did not pass on to Jules! But, I do think she wears a very similar smirk to this one very frequently. She is also seen with a cookie in her hand very frequently as well, so they have more than a few things in common. Brandon talks about the fun he had playing with his brother, besides indoor fun they also played baseball and soccer together all the time, according to the stories I hear anyway. Now Brandon has two girls to play together, and his brother has two boys. I think all combinations of children are fun - wouldn't want to knock anything in particular - but it is very special to have two of the same sex to forge a bond that will go with them throughout their lives. Tonight as C and J splashed in the bathtub the giggling was contagious. They are starting to cuddle at night, and play 'house' together for long stretches of time (this is triumphant, to yield more than two minutes of quiet play at a time!!!) I am SO grateful that they can be friends forever...attitudes and God willing of course.
Reminiscing about our family photos from days of yore I fondly remembered our trip to Vancouver, were we took our 2005 family shot. We (back when we were three, B, K and C) traveled to Vancouver in early July of 2005 for our sweet friends, Courtney and Nicole's wedding. This was Carolyn's first international trip, and both B and my first times in the northwest. It was incredible. Vancouver is incredibly beautiful, and of course it was fabulous to see our friends from college. The wedding was unlike any I'd ever seen, with only about 40 total people in attendance, it was held right by the ocean on the pier (I say pier because I'm not from ocean-ish places, it was near where the boats docked, so I guess it was pier-like), it was beautiful and intimate and fantastic. Carolyn had just learned to crawl, so she was antsy to get down and gather mileage on her knees, and the photographers caught several adorable shots of her being cute. During our few days stay, C got more than a dozen comments that were far more than 'oh, cute baby'. People would come across a restaurant to say "We just had to come over and tell you that your baby is incredibly beautiful". This happened on the streets, in stores, in restaurants, pretty much everywhere we went. While C got this quite a bit in the states, it was nothing like Canada...I love Canada. It was our first vacation as a 'family', and I will remember it forever as being a beautiful time together. [We took tons of fun photos in Vancouver, you can see them by clicking here].
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