The Purple Beanie

Dear Grandma Brandy,

You know that lovely purple hat you knitted for me?
Just wanted to tell you,

I really,



really,



really,




really like it.
A lot.

Thank you!

Love,
Reilly

Birthday Boy

Yesterday was your birthday!

29 years young...
(making me feel like an old lady at 31)

Thanks for sharing your life with me.
Thanks for finding all my quirks & oddities endearing.
Like when I accidentally put some of your birthday candles in the cake upside-down.
And didn't notice until I went to light them.
Stuff like that.

I absolutely adore you.
Happy Birthday, Bryson.

Love & Hate

For quite awhile, Taylor has had an endearing habit. Whenever he (or we) would get frustrated or angry about something he would look us right in the eye and say, "Mom (or Dad), I just love you!"

The torn look on his face as he said this was priceless. The general gist of his remark seemed to be, "I'm really irritated right now, but I like you a lot, so fine."

I always got a kick out of it.
And in a way, I thought it was a good lesson-- it's important to remember the big picture when the little things get you down.

Well, recently, Taylor discovered a new word.

I'm not sure where it came from, but as we were sitting at the dinner table trying to convince Taylor that the food on his plate was worth his attention, he put his head down and said "I hate you."
I was beside myself.
Taylor went to his room.

A short while later we had a little chat.


Me: Taylor, do you know what 'hate' means?

Taylor: What?

Me: Well... it means you don't like something or someone. When you tell Mommy "I hate you," it means "Mommy, I don't love you."

Taylor: (horrified) Oh. I'm sorry Mommy! I love you very much. You're my special girl!

Me: Oh, Taylor, you're my special boy. I love you very much, too. But we don't say "hate." Okay? It's just not a very nice word.

Taylor: Okay, Mommy. I want to be a nice boy. I just love you!


Much better.

And thankfully, that "new word" seems to have left the premises.

Ear Infection Enlightenment

I didn't miss out
on my spiritual uplift for the week
even though I was absent from
two-thirds of church today...

Snuggling with poor little Reilly on the couch
fills the soul just fine.

That's Amore

A couple of days ago Bryson took me out for dinner to celebrate my birthday. We decided Italian sounded good, so we got in the car and headed to Macaroni Grill. Everything was perfect. We had a table right by the fireplace, an excellent waiter that took good care of us, and the wonderful just-baked bread with the olive oil & balsamic vinegar...
Mmmm.
Just thinking about that bread makes me wax poetic.

Adding to the ambiance, Dean Martin's "Volare" played in the background.


Bryson: I never understood why they play Dean Martin in Italian restuarants.

Me: Um... I'm pretty sure it's because he's Italian.

Bryson: (confused) Really?

Me: Well, yeah... Half the words he's singing are in Italian. He's a Rat Packer, you know.

Bryson: I know that. But isn't he the black guy?

Me: (stunned silence, followed by uncontrollable laughter) Um... no. That would be Sammy Davis, Jr.

Bryson: Which one is Dean Martin?

Me: (still laughing) The big Italian-looking one!

Bryson: Oh.

Me: (laughing harder) Oh, Bryson, I love you.

Bryson: Thanks... I love you too. You can stop laughing now.


Nothing says "Happy Birthday" like good Italian food, a hot date, and a gut-busting laugh session.
Thanks, B.
It couldn't have been better.
♥

Sledding in Paradise

 
When Grandpa Bob gets an idea in his head, there's simply no dissuading him.

There are many simple, introductory sledding hills in the quiet town of Paradise-- but clearly none of them could possibly suffice.

His grandchildren needed a proper crash course into the world of winter sport. (Yes, pun most assuredly intended.)

Near the city cemetery there stands a hill of considerable size-- more appropriate, say, for downhill skiing than sledding with toddlers.
 
*sigh*
 
Of course that was the place Grandpa had in mind.

Armed with little more than a semi-positive attitude and a whole lot of chutzpah, we tested our mettle against the hill.


As Taylor & Reilly bounced down the icy decline with punishing force, I thought, "oh dear... here ends our fun family outing for sure!" Coming to a halt at the bottom, I waited for the tears to arrive... but surprisingly they never did.

"I love sledding!!!" exclaimed a jubilant (and snow-covered) Reilly.

And so the fun began.

Sometimes the hill won, but most of the time it didn't. Sometimes there were tears, but most of the time there was laughter. Some left with battle scars-- Reilly received an ice burn from a nasty crash, and Bryson hurt his back when he slipped running to her aid. I myself am not known for thrill-seeking behaviors, and came very near to swearing off sledding for life after a crash bruised up the left side of my body. But what's life without a little risk now and then? A trip down the hill with Bryson-- crash-free-- and I was back on board.

These are the memories I want our kids to develop in full. Outings spent together as a family. Laughter, excitement, the simple pleasures of life.  

TV and video games have nothing on barreling down an icy mountain at full speed.

Trust me.

Happy. New. Year.

There is a reason that my posts have taken an extended hiatus, and I wish I could pass it off to all the festive celebration of the holidays. Unfortunately, that just isn't the case.

December was a pretty rough month around here.

Some things that have been weighing on my mind I've written about, some I haven't...

The watershed moment occurred Christmas Eve. A good friend of the family passed away in a tragic accident. Based on the national attention the story received, you may have even heard about it.

You can read about it here.

Needless to say, the last few days I've felt like I've been living in a fog. So much heartache, so much tragedy. I am ready for a decidedly more serene 2009. This afternoon, as I was helping Bryson clean up the house a song came on the radio. It was one that I know by heart, but hadn't heard in quite awhile-- "Bring on the Rain" by Jo Dee Messina. As I reacquainted myself with the lyrics, all my pent-up emotion began to rise to the surface.


Another day has almost come and gone
Can't imagine what else could wrong
Sometimes I'd like to hide away somewhere and lock the door
A single battle lost but not the war ('cause)

Tomorrow's another day
And I'm thirsty anyway
So bring on the rain

It's almost like the hard times circle 'round
A couple drops and they all start coming down
Yeah, I might feel defeated,
I might hang my head
I might be barely breathing - but I'm not dead

Tomorrow's another day
And I'm thirsty anyway
So bring on the rain


Those words helped me find voice for the things that I had been trying to repress and tuck away into a dark corner of the mind. It was a much-needed release.

And I feel a lot better.

Who would of thought such catharsis could be found from listening to country radio?

Not me.

So now we come to today. A new year, a new slate. A rebirth of sorts.
We are faced with the endless possibilities of our own potential, to make our lives more aligned to our dreams. This year, I dream for peace.

Adversity is a fact of life.
Tragedy happens.
But it's my hope that if I can hold on to the peace I strive to maintain in my life, perhaps the inevitable downturns won't find me lost in an atmosphere of despair.

And I hope the next 12 months prove peaceful for you too.

Happy
New
Year.