- The children have decided and demanded that if they should ever have a little sister she shall be named Princess Lulu. We have no idea why.
- When Emma’s class went to The Hyde Collection this week they studied portraiture. In front of the entire class Emma did an upward salute, or Urdhva Hastasana, and then gave a deep, reverent bow with hands held palms together in front of Rembrandt’s Christ with Arms Folded. I guess she’s getting a good mix of ideas.
- When I was writing to both of our foster mother’s today I asked each child if he or she had a special message they would like me to include in their letter. Harrison asked me to to write: “I want you to know that I look handsome in my school uniform and I am nice to my sister.” Emma wanted me to write “I love cat toys.” (She meant toys in the shape of a cat and after much deliberation and explaining we decided on “I love Hello Kitty”.)
Friday, January 28, 2011
Three Things
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
They Found The Webcam
And now whenever I open the computer four little hands start reaching and pushing and edging in to the center of the screen for the best angle of silly face.
It is only a teensy bit annoying. Mostly I love seeing the funny pictures they take when I least expect it.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Another Backyard Slope
If only I could post all of the pictures from this day. Oh, there were some doozies: big spills, seriously goofy grins, misplaced hats, and a few mishaps involving a lilac bush. I have been strictly forbidden from sharing the fun shots by the people in those very shots. So instead you’ll have to see the cute photos and use your imagination. We had a ton of good, old-fashioned fun sliding down the very hill that I spent much of my childhood sledding down.
Ems
Brendan and me
Sir Harrison
With my mom (of the misplaced hat…ahem)
I love this one. My three favorite people!
And just to prove I’m no chicken when it comes to goofy shots, here I am having some of that fun.
I hope you are enjoying the cold and snow, because really it is the only way to survive winters here.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Love, from the other side of the world
Emma had a surprise in the mail this week! A package arrived from her foster family in South Korea, including a small purse, barrettes and hair ties, a Hello Kitty ring (some things are so universal, aren’t they?) and the very very cute jumper she is wearing in these photos! There was a also a book with a cd-rom and she really enjoyed listening to the story told in Korean, even if we did have to make up what we thought the story was really about.
Thank you, Mrs. Koo and family, for your continued love and support of our very favorite girl. She loves you so much and asks about you all of the time.
Act Your Age
I am so cold. I am cold in the way I used to be when I was little and we spent all day at Hickory Hill, alternating between skiing and sitting on the deck in the sun. It is a cold that runs all the way through me to my bones, the kind that makes a hot bath sting like pins and needles. It feels so, so good!
I am this cold not because of an old house and thin walls, but from hours and hours of playing in the snow, racing down one of the very best backyard hills that I have ever had occasion to ride. Forget Crandall Park and it grassy stubble, forget Gurney Lane and the lines of children - the backyard slope has so much more to offer: no lines, no waiting, ride as many times as you can bear to climb the hill, the bathroom is only a few feet away, there is probably a good chance of hot cocoa, and even the smallest of slopes can be wickedly fun. I have not laughed like this in ages, laughs that come not from the belly but from somehwere deeper, perhaps stretching all of the way back to my childhood. They come bursting out as I lose control and eat a faceful of snow, or as the last jump at the end of the run sends my sled and I flying in different directions and I land with a giant thud in front of my friend who cannot stop laughing, either. And my bottom hurts and I feel silly but I am having so much fun that none of it matters.
Brendan races down faster than all of the rest of us. His sled goes further, getting ever closer to the edge of the yard where another dropoff will send you to a watery surprise in the marsh. He bails at the last possible second, plumes of snow spraying into the air as he flings himself from the sled. He is buried, but we know he has survived the tumble because he whoops and hollers and quickly scrambles up for another go.
And my children are fearless. I get butterflies in my tummy before pushing off, but they run and jump onto their sleds, launching themselves face first down a huge hill, or even a small one, but they do not seem to fear anything at all. They eat snow, and laugh, and for just a few moments we are all children together and I don't have to be the mom and he doesn't have to be the dad. It is good.
Finally it gets too chilly, we all have snow up our sleeves and in our pant legs and down our collars, and the sun is starting to slip behind the trees. One last run! we call to each other, our friends and our family climb the hill for the final descent. It is faster than it was earlier, the temperature has dropped and the snow flies in clouds around our sleds. It is awesome, maybe even better than it was when I was five or seven or ten because I needed, this day, to remind myself of my age. I needed to know again that we are young, that fun is not something that is purchased or sought out or even acquired...it just is.
So now I am cold, enjoying the feel of my windburned cheeks and the smell of outdoors that lingers in my hair. And I am scheming for tomorrow...maybe a snowshoe adventure? Or another backyard slope? Or even a winter hike around Pack Forest to the Grandmother Tree?
What are you doing to act your age?
***See previous post for video of today's sledding fun! (I can't figure out how to embed within this post)
I am this cold not because of an old house and thin walls, but from hours and hours of playing in the snow, racing down one of the very best backyard hills that I have ever had occasion to ride. Forget Crandall Park and it grassy stubble, forget Gurney Lane and the lines of children - the backyard slope has so much more to offer: no lines, no waiting, ride as many times as you can bear to climb the hill, the bathroom is only a few feet away, there is probably a good chance of hot cocoa, and even the smallest of slopes can be wickedly fun. I have not laughed like this in ages, laughs that come not from the belly but from somehwere deeper, perhaps stretching all of the way back to my childhood. They come bursting out as I lose control and eat a faceful of snow, or as the last jump at the end of the run sends my sled and I flying in different directions and I land with a giant thud in front of my friend who cannot stop laughing, either. And my bottom hurts and I feel silly but I am having so much fun that none of it matters.
And my children are fearless. I get butterflies in my tummy before pushing off, but they run and jump onto their sleds, launching themselves face first down a huge hill, or even a small one, but they do not seem to fear anything at all. They eat snow, and laugh, and for just a few moments we are all children together and I don't have to be the mom and he doesn't have to be the dad. It is good.
Finally it gets too chilly, we all have snow up our sleeves and in our pant legs and down our collars, and the sun is starting to slip behind the trees. One last run! we call to each other, our friends and our family climb the hill for the final descent. It is faster than it was earlier, the temperature has dropped and the snow flies in clouds around our sleds. It is awesome, maybe even better than it was when I was five or seven or ten because I needed, this day, to remind myself of my age. I needed to know again that we are young, that fun is not something that is purchased or sought out or even acquired...it just is.
So now I am cold, enjoying the feel of my windburned cheeks and the smell of outdoors that lingers in my hair. And I am scheming for tomorrow...maybe a snowshoe adventure? Or another backyard slope? Or even a winter hike around Pack Forest to the Grandmother Tree?
What are you doing to act your age?
***See previous post for video of today's sledding fun! (I can't figure out how to embed within this post)
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
A Letter To Myself
Dearest Sara,
The new year can only start with a clean slate if you let it.
You can bring all of that crud from last year with you on this year's journey - it's easy to do. You can sling it over your back like an old army knapsack and lug it around and let it drag you down. You can let the self-loathing take over your head before you've even breathed in this crisp January air. You can let the list of little tasks overwhelm you until they are bigger than the day, longer than the night. You can let your fears grow until they comsume your joy. You can compare yourself to those who look like they do more, have more, be more until you seem small and insignificant and boring. You can lose before you've even started.
Or you can let it go.
You can set yourself free of the didn'ts and couldn'ts and should'ves. You can breathe deeply, knowing that when all is said and done you've got this. You are capable and strong and imperfect and good enough. You don't have to doubt yourself, compare yourself, or hate how you look. You can dance in front of people. You can sing out loud. You can walk into a room full of strangers and feel capable of intelligent conversation because motherhood, rather than limiting your sphere, has opened your eyes to an entire world you never knew existed and you are good at it. You are interesting and that is ever so much better than great beauty and an impressive resume.
And it is ok to be nervous in the same way that it is ok to fail. The important thing is to try, to put yourself out there with bravery and integrity and to take yourself seriously with a good sense of humor. Breathe deeply. Laugh with your crazy, funny family. Find that peace and strength that resides in your core, find it every day. Get to know it.
And then get out there and fly.
Happy New (clean-slated) Year,
Sara
The new year can only start with a clean slate if you let it.
You can bring all of that crud from last year with you on this year's journey - it's easy to do. You can sling it over your back like an old army knapsack and lug it around and let it drag you down. You can let the self-loathing take over your head before you've even breathed in this crisp January air. You can let the list of little tasks overwhelm you until they are bigger than the day, longer than the night. You can let your fears grow until they comsume your joy. You can compare yourself to those who look like they do more, have more, be more until you seem small and insignificant and boring. You can lose before you've even started.
Or you can let it go.
You can set yourself free of the didn'ts and couldn'ts and should'ves. You can breathe deeply, knowing that when all is said and done you've got this. You are capable and strong and imperfect and good enough. You don't have to doubt yourself, compare yourself, or hate how you look. You can dance in front of people. You can sing out loud. You can walk into a room full of strangers and feel capable of intelligent conversation because motherhood, rather than limiting your sphere, has opened your eyes to an entire world you never knew existed and you are good at it. You are interesting and that is ever so much better than great beauty and an impressive resume.
And it is ok to be nervous in the same way that it is ok to fail. The important thing is to try, to put yourself out there with bravery and integrity and to take yourself seriously with a good sense of humor. Breathe deeply. Laugh with your crazy, funny family. Find that peace and strength that resides in your core, find it every day. Get to know it.
And then get out there and fly.
Happy New (clean-slated) Year,
Sara
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