Smart Consumerism

In the drop-off line for school the other day, there was a pick-up truck with a huge advertisement for a landscaping business on it. Emma asked me why someone would put a sticker on their truck like that.

I said, “That sticker is an advertisement for that man’s business. He put it on his truck to tell people about his business.”

She exclaimed, “Oh yeah? Well I’m not buying it!!!”

I’m afraid her dad’s skepticism of commercial media has rubbed off on her!

Fashion Sense

Emma is totally into fashion. The other night she was helping me pack for an out-of-town conference, and she took the opportunity to educate me on the importance of fashion to my professional success. The conversation went like this:

“Oh mom! You have to show them that you are a totally hip fashionista.” (By “them” she was referring to the people at my conference.) “You have to show them that you are a smart professor AND a fashionista–so they will like you.”

I found her assumption that I was a “smart professor” funny and flattering, since I am far from being “smart” or a professor. But I decided not to address that detail since it’s all the same to her. And it was beside the point. I responded,

“Oh yeah? I don’t know that I would call myself a fashionista. What should I wear that will be super smart and fashionable?”

She pulled three of my most colorful shirts off the top rack of my closet. (Thinking back, this is a bit odd. I didn’t think she was tall enough to reach the top rack, but she literally “swooped” three shirts off the rack with complete ease.)

“These are so perfect! They look so professional and hip! And this bag is soooo you!”

I said, “Those are fabulous! But I only need one outfit because I’ll only be there one day.”

I should have anticipated what she said next. “Well, of course you have to wear a different outfit to every meeting!”

Of course, right? She is the best.

Our Little Sprout

Ava turned one today. Ahhhh. It seems like just yesterday that I was carrying her around in my big belly. Emma and I were running the stairs and dancing to “All the Single Ladies” trying to elicit her arrival. She finally came, and now none of us can imagine life without her. So in the spirit of sweet birthday nostalgia, I’ve put together this slide show of first year memories. I hope you enjoy.

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Valentine Mission Accomplished

Emma is always coming up with ideas for parties. Rainbow parties, dress-up parties, pink pony parties, you name it. Usually we either put together a mini-party with her, Grandma, Poppy, and me, or we put off the event-planning and she eventually forgets. So when she came up with the idea for a valentine party, my initial reaction was to have Eddie pick up some cupcakes at Kroger and head off to Grandma’s, but as she listed off the names of her schoolmates I decided it was time to do something really special for her–to “do it up right,” as they say. So I did.

Friday afternoon the big Valentine Party commenced, complete with an assortment of pink and white cupcakes, heart-shaped doilies, boisterous kiddos, and chatty PTO moms (who–surprisingly–were a lot like me, minus the forty-hour work week). Emma was so excited, at one point she said, “Can you believe it? Even the president of the PTO is here!,” which totally made this lady’s day. The kids had a blast playing in Emma’s room, crafting valentines, and putting on Hawaiian luau shows for us (it didn’t quite fit the theme but Emma got to wear her coconut flower bra, which made her super happy).

I have to say, thinking about the party in terms of a strategic plan–which I know is a bit ridiculous but a framework I have started applying even to the smallest of pursuits–I am really pleased with the turnout. I achieved my mission: to create an experience in which Emma could take pride in her home, toys, and coconut flower bra; made progress toward my vision: for Emma to feel valued and connected to a larger community; and executed a set of strategies, including getting my house in tip-top party shape and pulling together a kick-butt party spread.

Oh, and now I’m been elevated to the status of “best mom ever”! Which is definitely a bonus!

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If You Give a Hobo a Saw…

Emma and I had an interesting conversation this morning. As she was getting out of the shower and I was wrapping a towel around her, she said something like “I’m wearing a hobo.”

I’m pretty sure what she meant was that her towel looked like a toga, but I responded that a “hobo” was a word some people use to describe a homeless person.

Thinking about a homeless person made her really sad, and she said “I don’t want people to be homeless. I want to help people who are homeless make homes, by giving them saws.”

I wasn’t sure how to convey the complexity of such an issue, so I said “I’m afraid it would take more than saws to fix homelessness.”

She responded, “We’ll give them nails too.”

Mornings with Sweet Emma and Dr. Wallersworth

Weekend mornings with the girls are one of my favorite things. It’s a time when the girls are at their peak cuddliness, the state of the house and the daily obligations haven’t set in yet, and everyone just feels good. This morning Emma woke up first (she and Daddy had traded beds for the night) and couldn’t contain her chatter. Little sis wasn’t far behind. I imagine for most people it’s a bit odd to wake up to people staring and cooing at you, but for her it’s a regular occurrence and quite thrilling. She “wallered” around with her little sleepy smile and quickly took up her tongue clicking, double hand wave, and little blowy face act. It was all very impressive.

Here are some pictures I took, though cute as they are, they hardly do justice to the moment!

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To Tell Our Stories

I have never been good at keeping personal records. While I love browsing through my mother’s collection of picture albums, family recipes, and self-authored stories about her kids and grand kids (oh yes, she writes them herself!), I can’t seem to manage so much as to even take a picture at my child’s birthday party. But I want to change. I want my kids to be able to experience the same satisfaction I feel when pilfering through those old albums or reading those sweet stories. There is something about these things that makes me feel grounded in the world; it reminds me that I have a unique story, tied to those of so many others, and these stories will continue long after I’m gone. I realize this is an odd way to talk about my plans for a blog, but I have come to terms with the fact that I would never sustain this effort if it were in any other format than digital. (Also as lovely as it feels to hold those old pictures, even my mother has transitioned to digital file storage, so who am I to hold back progress?) Therefore this blog represents my solid effort to tell the stories of my family’s daily life–through words, pictures, and whatever else they manage to convert to digital form–in hopes that our friends and loved ones can enjoy them for years to come. Who knows–they might even rival my Aunt Wilda’s brownies!