A tribute.

A week from today, this smart, handsome and confident little boy starts kindergarten. I'm so proud of him.

 

Among other things, he tells me he can't wait to play on the playground, pick out his lunches and learn from his new teacher.

The key word there being "new," because he's had a teacher for the last 5 years and she is wonderful. Beyond wonderful, in fact. It's funny that most of my emotions around Alex going to kindergarten aren't centered around what he's going to; they're focused on what he's leaving.

I've raved more than once about how incredible Mrs. Davis' Daycare is, but it's also important to acknowledge that it's so much more for Alex. For Joe and me, it is a place where we knew he was safe, he was learning, and he was growing. But for Alex, it was his world. It's where he made his first friends, and learned how to BE a friend. It's where he learned to read and write his name. It's where he learned how to wash his hands and to be polite. He was encouraged to pray before meals, to honor our country and respect all people.

Aunt Jane (and yes, even Uncle Tom) have been much, much more than "just a daycare" for us. They're part of the village that has helped to shape and mold our Alex into the smart, creative and eager boy that he is. And for that I'm eternally thankful.

The wonderful news is that this isn't "goodbye" to our Aunt Jane, because Miss Harper will still be at Mrs. Davis' Daycare. I've half joked that she can stay there until she goes to College, but each day the idea sounds more appealing.

And now we are complete.

Oh, hey there. Long time no blog. We've been busy around here...you know, adding to our family and stuff. In the last week we've gotten new furniture, a new shed, and a new baby. We sort of go all out when it comes to chaos and change.

But what you really want to know...we're all doing great. Better than great, actually. Harper's birth story will come later when I have more time to sit and thoughtfully write it, but the Reader's Digest version is that it was a night and day version of what it was with Alex. If I can go so far as to say it was an amazing experience, I will say that. Other than the dizzyness of coming down from anesthesia (which can't really be avoided), I felt and continue to feel amazing.

As for Harper, she's the world's greatest (and most beautiful) baby. If you don't already, check out my Instagram feed (link at right) to see loads of photos. She eats like a rock star and I'm not exaggerating in the least when I say she already damn near sleeps through the night. She goes down at 11 or 12, wakes up at 3 for a quick 2 oz bottle, and then sleeps again until 6 or 7. I actually feel like a human, instead of a more seasonally appropriate zombie.

As for Alex, he was BORN to be a big brother. He's so loving and protective of her and loves to hold her and feed her. He wants her to do EVERYTHING with him--here they are in a Sunday morning snuggle, something I hope continues at least into their teen years. He's adjusting well and I'm a proud Mom to report our house is a peaceful, happy, sleep-filled place for all.

For your viewing pleasure, here's the video taken when Alex met Harper for the first time (thanks for capturing it, Mom!). And yes, he's wearing toddler scrubs that say "big brother" on them...a real hit with the nurses! (Available here.)

 

This kid is a DREAM.

Yesterday on the way to daycare, Alex asked to play with his Magna Doodle to draw me a picture. (Mom tip: the small bin of car-friendly toys I keep in the backseat has saved my life more than once.) Of course, I obliged and when we got to our destination I asked him what he drew for me.

"Mom! I drawed Harper! She has eyelashes and a ponytail."

This boy loves his sister so much already, I honestly can't imagine how it will grow when she's here. This morning he told me he can't wait to teach her math. MATH.

Alex, I am SO proud to be your Momma. You are one cool cat and your sister is so lucky to have you for a big brother. xoxox.

A sentimental journey.

My mom was taking a walk down memory lane (see also: probably a hot mess on her living room floor) the other day and started texting me pictures of pictures of the day I was born. A little unorthodox, sure...and crazy to think Alex & Harper will just have to look at Shutterfly, Facebook or my Instagram feed to see their lives from the very beginning, while I have to haul out 75 lbs. of peel-and-stick, 3 ring, leather-bound old school photo albums.

Anyway, the pics were too cute NOT to share, and it'll be fun to see how much Harper looks like me.

Mom on Dec.7, 1982.

Welcome to the world, self.

"Oh, hey dere."

Kelli holding me.

ABOUT my Dad's tracksuit. And glasses. And beard. #sexy

The mother of all weekends.

Aside from Harper being on my last nerve (literally), this weekend was the gem of all weekends.

First, we made HUGE progress in the world of swimming. Although Alex loves water, he's not been so keen on adventuring into the pool alone of late. But look at this:

Now we can hardly keep him OUT of the water, but I have no complaints because floating weightless in the pool is just what me 'n Harper are jamming to these days.

We also made the obligatory weekend trip to Costco where Alex may or may not have been thrown into the box of giant pandas:

And on Saturday night, Alex had his first campout. Let's not be silly, I slept in my warm, comfy bed, but the boys had a great time--and much to my surprise, they actually slept in there ALL night.

And if all that weren't enough we started our official countdown of "Sleeps until Samuel" - last night we were at 5. See you soon, Samuel!!!

Christmas in July.

If you've known me for a minute, you know I LOVE Christmas. It's a borderline unhealthy obsession and my house looks like the garland fairy threw up all over it from December 1 (respect the Turkey!) until mid-January. It's fine.

You might also know that the secondary centerpiece of holiday decor (next to the tannenbaum) is the stockings hung by the chimney with care. I've been waiting five years to buy a personalized family set, and now that bV has a real name, I took the plunge.

I know. They make my heart smile and I'm so jazzed for all the years I have ahead of me to fill them with things that will make my children smile. THERE IS NOTHING BETTER THAN CHRISTMAS.

Oh, and if you're wondering, I got them at this etsy shop. Jackie was GREAT to work with and she's even running a sale right now - $5 off each stocking.

Stopping time.

Joey went out "real" fishing with one of his buddies on Saturday morning (for the record he didn't catch any fish that day, either) so that left me and my little man solo for a few hours.

He asked when we woke up if we could go on a "donut date." Who says no to that? So off we went to our local Donut Hole where he was a DELIGHT. Everything was "yes please" and "I love you, Mom" and "thanks for baking me this donut, nice lady!" It was almost more than my heart could handle.

And then he told me we had to go to the "balloon store" because we were having a Father's Day party and "you can't have a party without balloons." So off we went to the Dollar Tree where he proceeded to again be so delightful in carefully selecting one balloon each for Poppi, Papa John, Daddy and Uncle Kyle.

It was a day for the books, for sure.

And for fun, here's a shot from a few nights ago when we took him to the City Fair:

Fishy, fishy.

For Father's Day, Joey wanted to take Alex on his first fishing trip - so we packed up the gear and a little picnic and headed to a small local lake where they allow catch and release shore fishing.

Days and memories like this will stick in my mind forever. There is nothing, and I mean nothing, that compares to the joy of watching Joey share his love of fishing and the water with Alex.

As far as imparting the empirical knowledge to our son of HOW to actually CATCH fish...well, we'll just leave that to Mom. Because who caught the only two fish we caught that day? Oh, hi. That'd be me.

P.S. - I know Alex looks 100 feet tall and about 12 years old in these pictures and I'm just going with "bad camera angles" as the source of the optical illusion. Because he's still my baby, and he's not really up to my boobs in height. Ok, maybe he is and I just can't handle it.

P.P.S - What makes it better is that those are 18Mo pants that I just cuff on him because I think they are adorable toddler capris. It's fine.

Hopeful.

Today is the day that our sweet bdub was due. If you know my heart, you know that I don't celebrate or choose to remember what I call "death days" - ie, the anniversaries of days that people died or really horrible things happened. My sister and brother are weird and take after my Mom and can pretty much remember to the minute, hour and exact weather of those days. And that is fiiiiiine. But me? Notsomuch. That's a bunch of sad and depressing and ineffectively circular references. Instead, I remember life days--like birthdays and signs of spring and days that I bought really great new shoes.

So today, while driving into work, it was only fitting that I noticed little peeks of green in the grass where the yucky, brown snow is starting to melt. And buds on trees that will soon flower and smell like God's perfume. And for that, today I celebrate life and new beginnings and robins chirping outside. And I'll probably go buy some new shoes, too.

Today I am not sad. Today I am thankful and hopeful and content. My prayer is the same for you!

Moments.

Like anyone else, my days are made up of little moments all strung together to make a bigger picture. Sometimes, I think we all look past the little and ordinary things, expecting greatness to come only from the biggest, loudest moments.

Lately, I've been trying really hard to quietly be more appreciative of the little things. More specifically, how they collectively fit into the bigger picture and shape my life, my moments, my memories. Like these:

"Here, Poppi. I will help you with your zippers."

I've become quite the Mommy expert in GeoTrax building, thankyouverymuch.

"Two dudes, doin' dude teeth brushing."

Evening snuggles are the best!

He was telling Aunt Jane about pudding on Monday, so on the way home he asked if we could make some that night. How do you tell this face no? So of COURSE we made pudding and it was YUM.

Entertainment in your own back yard.

Like any 3 year old boy, Alex loves pretty much anything on wheels. And bigger is better with this boy, for sure.

On Sunday, his imagination was running wild about trains. Everything was a train. He wanted to watch train movies and play train games. And then he asked to see a train. A REAL train.

Joe came up with the brilliant idea to see when the Amtrak stopped in Royal Oak, a neighboring city. The coolest thing about the Royal Oak "station" is that it's not really a station at all. It's a sidewalk with a bench, and you just walk up and walk on. As a result, bystanders can get up close and personal to the trains.

He checked online and there was a stop at 6 p.m., so we bundled up and headed out. Sure enough, at 6 p.m. on the dot, the train stopped at the station. We stood on the sidewalk waving and the conductor actually opened the window and waved to Alex--talk about special! My smart little guy even knew it was a bullet train. Thank you, Choo Choo Soul. I kind of feel bad about secretly hating you. Only kind of, though.

It was a fun family memory at my favorite price - free!

My grandmother's nook.

And no, not a tablet PC. A literal nook in our house. Specifically, this one:

It's the corner of our master bedroom and I LOVE it. (Aside from the curtains that need to be hemmed and steamed.) The table is perhaps the most special part, because it belonged to my Great Grandma.

It used to look like this:

But with a touch of love and a little bit of Martha Stewart's Hosta paint, it's the perfect piece. I had so much fun painting it--locked myself in the basement, turned on Francesca Battistelli on Pandora and went to town. I actually don't have any memories of my Great Grandma, so it was really my Grandma that I was sharing a moment with. The hardware for the table was stored in a baggie in the drawer with her handwriting on it, and I got teary eyed as I tightened them back in when the paint was dry...imagining her taking them out in the same way, putting them in the bag and labeling it so carefully with her shaky hands, "hardware for dresser. 6 pcs. from mother."

And now the table has a special spot in my home. Atop it sits a photo from my wedding day--a day she wasn't there for in person, but I carried a piece of her on my bouquet. Next to it, a little red bottle from which Joe and I took communion from on the day before our wedding--a special gift from my Mom, but the holder actually belonged to the same Grandma. And in the vase are the rose petals from my actual bouquet.

On the wall is a cool vintage frame I found on one of my many treasure hunts with Sarah. And inside that is my housewarming gift to Joe - a framed piece with all sorts of words about love, life and our relationship.

So there's a peek into one of my favorite little spaces in the house. As soon as I finish Alex's room, that'll be next!

Last man standing.

Yesterday I lost my only living grandparent. What a strange thing to write.

Grandpa Neveau, or "GG" as Alex called him, died early yesterday morning. He was in hospice, so we knew it was coming...but you're never really ready for that.

You know that Hollywood image of what a Grandpa should be?  Witty. A little bit raunchy. Lover of music. Inappropriate in a hilarious way. Outdoorsman extraordinaire. That was GG. A product of his generation, he was the perfect blend of rough around the edges and "come on over here and sit on my knee." And you always knew when he was up to something with that "shit-eatin'" grin on his face. (His words, not mine. He was full of one-liners like that.)

His last smile on Earth was something I will cherish forever. It was on Saturday afternoon in the hospice home, and he was in and out of his groggy state. Alex and Joe had just arrived, and Alex trotted over to the chair I was sitting in at his bedside and said "Hi GG. You don't feel good." Hearing this, GG opened his eyes and in a moment that I know was filled with absolutely perfect clarity, he smiled and said one of his signature phrases, "Weeeeeeelllllllllllllll." (In that deep, drawn out voice.) He didn't open his eyes after that.

Grandpa loved babies. He didn't love when they were crying--and was always quick to hand them back when they were. I know that he and Grandma are up in Heaven, and...well, he's probably out fishing right now, to be honest. But when he gets back, he'll meet Grandma and rock my sweet tWIPs until I get there.

Because when you run out of creative things to write, you just post old pictures and let everyone 'ooh' and 'aah'.

 Baby Kristi.
I am delicious.

 Halloween...maybe 1985 or 1986?

I look so amused. 

 Once a diva, always a diva.

With Grandma Neveau.

I miss her all the time.

The original Kardashians (Kelli, Kristi and Kyle)

with our Momager.

Kelli's costume, while awesome in theory,

was a logistical nightmare.

This is why everyone says Alex looks just like Kyle.

BECAUSE HE DOES.

My 12 year old self just peed my pants in excitement.

Seriously, guys! This is like, BIG! Cue Leally Blonde Soundtrack... "Oh my God, oh my God you guys!"

JTT (for my oldish readers, we're talking Jonathan Taylor Thomas, here) IS ALIVE! People.com, my go-to source for all relevant, current and breaking news, proves it here and also here. And as far as link #2 is concerned, why does little brother Mark look like he's about to stab someone? And forgive me for asking the obvious, but where is Wilson?

Le sigh. No matter how old I get, JTT will always have a special place in my heart. He was so dreamy...and my 12 year old self maybe still doodles his name with hearts all around it in my notebook. No? Too much? Creepy stalker vibes?

Whatever. If you are a female reader between the ages of like 25-35, you can't deny it. You loved him, too. Unless you loved Mark. In which case, ewwww. Just ewww.

UPDATE: Apparently Wilson died in 2003. Obviously, People.com did not cover this news.

Four years.

Four years ago today, I stood in front of God, friends and family and promised you faithfulness, friendship and forever.

Not a day goes by that I'm not thankful for every minute of my life that lead me to you. Every good decision, every bad decision, every twist and turn that got me here. I'm blessed. I'm thankful. I'm happy. I'm complete.

Thank you for building a life with me - for building our family on a foundation of faith, laughter, adventure, partnership and promise. I love you more every day.

Up, up and away!

It seems that the older I get, the more weird things I learn about my father. Like, for instance, that he wants to own a hot air balloon. For real. The funny thing is, until about 3 weeks ago, he had never even been IN one. I decided to change that.

Since you can only buy a man so many socks, undershirts, shovels, bagel slicers and grill scrubbers, I decided to get a little something different for his birthday this year. And, as my luck would have it, Groupon offered a hot air balloon ride just a few weeks before his birthday. I snatched two up and was giddy as a schoolgirl to share such a sweet adventure with my Dad.

We wanted to do a sunrise flight. Fun fact: sunrise flights with Michigan's relatively unpredictable weather  patterns are hard to come by. We ended up rescheduling four times until July 2, when we were finally able to take flight. Turns out, we were actually pretty lucky. Others in our group that day had been waiting over a year to get a good weather day. It was so worth the wait.

Ready for takeoff!

The basket. Ours held 15 people total.
4 each in the top L and R quadrants, and 3 each  in the lower L and R quads. The pilot goes in the center.
Dad and I were in the lower left quad.
I know, it's intimidatingly small.

Cool shadow shot.

Another balloon flew with us.
Also, I guess it's rare to have clouds on a sunrise flight,

so that was cool!

Enjoying the view.
Or holding on for dear life,

whichever you prefer.

Cool reflection shot.

Safely back on the ground!

The whole experience could not have been more perfect, and it was awesome to experience it with my Dad. You know, since his other option would have been to take my Mom, who would have likely passed out at liftoff due to a serious fear of heights.

Oh, and for what it's worth, the old man no longer has a desire to own a balloon. Turns out they're much more work than he thought.