PSA: The guys have fun.

Whether it's balloon-ey-ball (indoor volleyball played with a balloon),

Roughhousing to a "Millennium Hip-hop" soundtrack,

Or just silly piggyback rides to bed,

The man and boys know how to have fun together. It makes me smile. It makes me laugh.

It makes me grateful for the chance to snuggle into the couch with a good book... while thumps and bangs against floor and furniture come from the next room.

Happy Monday!

Pixie Turns Nine

On Monday, we celebrated Pixie's ninth birthday. Nine!

We have had more that three thousand nights to kiss her goodnight, more than three thousand mornings to sing her awake.

I haven't sung for all of them. I wish I had. Because I want her to know how precious she is: to me, to our family, to God Himself.

The LORD your God is with you,
he is mighty to save.
He will take great delight in you,
he will quiet you with his love,
he will rejoice over you with singing.

(Zephaniah 3:17)


She is such a gift. Surprises waiting to be unwrapped, discovered and delighted in every day.



We'll celebrate again tomorrow, with other little girls and scavenger hunts and crafts and chocolate-cake-with-homemade-lemon-curd for frosting.



(Pixie has very specific tastes).



Loving on my beautiful birthday girl,
H

Music in the Morning--II

And then this morning, while Pixie was practicing a new piece, Nutmeg joined her for a duet.

And then by the time I grabbed the video camera, she had already wandered off.

So I brought her back--and they played an encore. Which I now share for fun!



Happy weekend, really--
H

Music In The Morning

We try to start school every day at 7:30am, just after breakfast. In fact, while I'm clearing away the dishes and wiping down the table (and, perhaps, playing mancala with Wombles or peek-a-boo with Nutmeg) Pixie and Bud are getting underway. We all meet up again at around eight: Bud finished with his math, and Pixie done with her piano.



It's a great way to start the day. She is learning beautifully, and it's fun to hear her music as we're getting started with the day.



Sometimes Nutmeg goes in and plinks away at the very high or very low notes while Pixie plays. When this happens Pixie often pretends to be giving Nutmeg a piano lesson; often baby sister ends up in the exersaucer so that she's contained.

Other times I only think that Nutmeg has been "playing piano" with her big sister...when she's been otherwise occupied.



(As we say around here: "She's a havocwreaker! She. Wreaks. Havoc!!")

And we mean that in the nicest possible way.

Happy Friday, y'all!

Old(?) Friends

A week or two ago, I caught these two clowns playing in our back yard:


I love them both so much. It's almost impossible to believe that they could have ever looked like this:



But the resemblance is clear, and anyway, I still remember them fighting over those toys. They fight over other things now--yet are still very close friends. I treasure that. What a gift to get to watch them grow and change and grow some more, all while being their very own selves.



We've lived here four and-a-half years now, longer than that cowboy on the left has been breathing air. And having been able to watch he and Santiago learn to talk and play with each other gave me extra delight as I captured these moments:





I am excited to see how Nutmeg and Shalom (all code names!) grow up together, too. When Shalom's mom was laboring to bring her out into the world, many of us in the neighborhood had a small candle lit in our homes to remind us to pray for her(them). And we didn't know whether Nutmeg was He or She! That seems so recent-- and now Nutmeg and Shalom get to hang out a couple of times a week. So looking forward to their shenanigans as they grow up.



It is a blessing to be in one place long enough to watch the seeds you plant flower, to watch the trees you plant bear fruit...and to watch the babies born form friendships...and to have a few of your own, too. Friendships, is what I meant. But babies, too! And the moms of these two kids are two dear, dear friends here with whom I get to share many aspects of life.

So grateful.

So grateful, too, for a slow Sunday afternoon that bakes me hot in the sun while I get to catch up over the phone with my sister, and hear about her sweet two-week-old son. Just today we've started discussing kid swaps in years to come, so the cousins can hang out and be friends, too.

Nutmeg's napping, and everyone else in the family is at the pool. Mmmm. Happy Sunday, everyone!

Happy Valentine's Day!

Running on Cov standard time, of course.

V-Day fell on our supper swap night this year, so we had our friends over. J made special burgers for the children:



There were also roses, whether I wanted them or not:




(of course I loved them. What kind of girl do you think I am? The kind whose husband comes home on the 11th with roses, saying, "Don't be mad!" and, "If you REALLY don't want flowers for Valentine's Day, these are just regular flowers. It's Saturday. Valentine's Day is days from now...but if you might like them, I think they'll be perfect then." ??? Yes? Well, then you are right. And so was he. They were perfect.)

Valentine's Day is every day at my house.

Love each other!
H

Five Minute Friday: Ache

I'm trying something new--Five minutes of writing on Friday from my new favorite blog, The Gypsy Mama. Yikes!


It’s time for Five Minute Friday! No editing, no backtracking, just letting the fingers fly while contemplating the word: ACHE.

Ready? GO:

Happy, sad, and happy again--

The lightning speed with which I zoom from one to the other may be part of the aching, but I don't think so. I see the smiles and triumphs of these four dear little ones, and smile the greater; think of my family so far away, who are missing them, and missing all of these moments, and

suddenly the moments stretch into minutes and hours and years and break me with the blur of their gone-ness, and my mother never saw them.

We are called to be here, and I am happy. But oh, I ache.

And then the hourglass flips and I can imagine all of the minutes hours smiles dances and victories of my nieces and nephews, the sweet 11-day-old toes that I will not see and the voices and accents that will not be the same as my children's and I am so full of missing them that I might explode.

Instead I leak all over my nose, and am a mess. And I look for hope that is there, and joy that I have them at all, and promises of time to come. But, oh.

STOP.



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Why don't you head on over to The Gypsy Mama and give it a whirl? Or do some reading instead, and be encouraged. But I would love to see some of y'all who blog doing some writing over there...I've been reading it for weeks and finally decided to give it a shot.

My friend Diana recommended it to me on a day when Lisa-Jo had written about grated cheese on the floor. That was my "You had me at hello" moment. Happy almost-weekend!