Remember how…

I just took off without telling anyone in the blog universe to spend an entire week relaxing in the sunshine?  (p.s. if you’ve never done it, I highly recommend it)

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We’ll be back this week with stories of forgiveness, belated birthday presents, & toddler beach brawls that rival anything I’ve ever seen in a bar.

HeirtoBlair500x150 v41 Remember how...

A letter to my father.

Dear Daddy,

It’s true that I don’t give you enough credit or recognition.  It’s not because I do not want to shout from the rooftops about how awesome you are, but more that you & I have just always had this “thing” where we understood each other.

We have that same thing where we want to be quiet & brood when we’re upset.  We have that same sharp wit that gets us in trouble, but thankfully we also share a wide smile & (hopefully) good heart deep down.  You told me it was okay when I dropped programming in college & I told you it was okay when you had to work late.  When I chose my husband & others whispered skeptically, you understood what it was like to marry “different.”  We get that same weird fire in our eyes when we talk about business & economics & I am so thankful to have a kindred spirit – would anyone else understand the ironic humor of fake grenades on our desks?  I think not.

I’ve never told you this, but on days where I think I cannot handle a career, parenting, marriage & a home one more moment, I think about you.  I think about all the days you spent twelve hours behind a desk, only to come home & sit around a fake campfire wearing fake Indian feathers on your head.  On Saturday’s when I know you just wanted to rest, you took us out for bike rides on the Greenway, mowed the lawn, painted my room blaring purple.  You did beautifully as a working parent & I hope that one day, Harrison will be able to say that I always put him first just like you always made me a top priority.

Today, I thank you for always being my biggest fan.  For that time you sat down at the kitchen table with me & told me to never, ever do math with a pen & that it was okay to take an entire page for an algebra equation – be damned what the teacher says.  For the time you sat in the ER with me on a Saturday when a back-handspring broke my ring finger.  Thank you for all the years you sat on cold bleachers, more proud of your cheerleader daughter than any football dad.   Thank you for telling me that I would be okay, even at my darkest.  Thanks for the texts that say, “I loved today’s post!” or “You sound like a sailor” because I know you’re my best blog reader.

p.s.?  thanks for never commenting.

I’m proud to be your girl.

I love you always.

Picture 1 A letter to my father.

 

Happy Mother’s Day.

My momma.  THE Momma.

  • She raised three children she birthed.  & then she adopted my two cousins.  Because it’s what Jesus would do.
  • Did I mention she birthed two of those kids sans epidural at over 10 lbs apiece?
  • Because she is a cancer survivor.  Because they gave her less than a 20% chance of survival & with three young children at home, she gave them the middle finger & became a member of the research that now saves lives at Duke.
  • Also, she was a part of the drug test group as an alternative to medicinal marijuana.  I always thought that was cool.
  • Because she taught me to always use cloth tablecloths & napkins.
  • All the nights when I was in middle school & she held me while I cried, reminding me that I was beautiful & that the ugly duckling turned into a swan.
  • She can hand out one hell of a butt-swat when you’re askin’ for it.
  • Because sometimes, she forgets the bread in the oven.  & those sweet imperfections make her more perfect.
  • She bleeds Carolina blue & still screams “GO BABY, GO!!!” over the din of UNC football crowds.
  • Because I know the jingle of her keys over any other sound, even if we’re in Target.  She jingles her keys & I come running.
  • She always smells of make-up, Elizbeth Taylor’s “Passion,” & soap.
  • She’s a nurse.  On hands & knees daily, serving other people in their sickness.  She is their angel.
  • Last year, she was my angel.  Holding me when I felt I could not stand the pain of PPD, crying with me & telling me we would survive this.
  • Because she does not know the meaning of “selfish.”
  • She refuses to give into grey & stays a blonde with a snazzy haircut at 62.
  • Because she washed dirty football gear for over 10 years without complaint.
  • She tells me that I remind her of her mother.  & it warms her heart.
  • In this recession, she still holds 10+ hour workdays because it is what her family needs.
  • She’s my shopping buddy.  My coffee buddy.  & the first person I call at the end of a great day (shh, don’t tell my husband).
  • Because there is always a bed made at her house with fresh sheets, should we need a place.
  • Because to this day, I still call her “Momma.”

DSC 0078 1024x685 Happy Mothers Day.

Love you, Momma.

Down on the farm.

Easter was pretty different for me this year.  Last year, I was basically dying inside.  I didn’t even get up the gumption to iron my son’s button-down shirt or make him an Easter basket.  I know he won’t remember it, but it still hurts that I couldn’t pull myself together long enough to buy him a stuffed rabbit & some jelly beans that he’d never eat. (I know how ridiculous that sounds.  I can already feel the $180.00 per hour therapy bill about it.)

Our normal Easter includes worship in the church where Nate & I married, then back to my parents for family & a big dinner complete with ham & green bean casserole.  But this year, we all packed our cars & drove to South Carolina where we spent the entire weekend frolicking on a farm & hunting plastic eggs.

DSC 0071 1024x682 Down on the farm.

& bottle-feeding a lamb that was rejected by his momma.  No worries – he was quite lovingly adopted by the herding dog. (apparently this is pretty common)

DSC 0148 685x1024 Down on the farm.

Harrison spent a lot of time airborne thanks to his big uncles.  He’s really taken a shine to “being with the boys” & spent most of the day following them around, riding the four-wheeler in Daddy’s lap, & imitating his big cousin.

DSC 0159 682x1024 Down on the farm.

How gorgeous is this farm?  We are hoping to be back this summer for boating & diving into the lake.  Hopefully the boys can chase some chickens & goats while the girls set out on horseback.

farmcollage Down on the farm.

(this is where I say “SUCK ON THAT” & only about 3 people understand what I mean, but that’s okay)

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An Easter Egg Hunt was the highlight of Sunday morning.  Harrison’s father & uncles had a great time hiding the eggs & afterwards, we all sat on my brother’s front porch & enjoyed time together.  It felt odd not to be in church, but I don’t think that when Jesus died on the cross, he was all “AWESOME. People are now going to dress in really uncomfortable clothes & sit in really uncomfortable pews because of this & that makes it TOTALLY WORTH IT.”  But I’m not a theological person, so don’t take my word on it.

eastercollage Down on the farm.

He was pretty pleased until we told him that he was done eating M&M’s & then the epic toddler face came out.  Please see far right photo, which may also be found in the Webster’s Dictionary under “tragic.”

p.s. Harrison did get an Easter basket this year, complete with a Little People car & some colored Goldfish crackers.
p.p.s.  Nate forgot to make me an Easter basket & was feeling sheepish, but he did bring me pink tulips last week.  So he’s in the clear.

DSC 0574 682x1024 Down on the farm.

Before you ask, here’s a breakdown of Harrison’s attire: Shirt from Baby Gap (on sale last fall), shorts from Old Navy (bought full-price on Saturday because I forgot to pack his khakis), bow-tie from Sullivan & Sawyer.

I hate children’s songs, aka a guest post by my awesome sister.

Ladies & Gents, I bring you an impromptu guest blogger for your Friday afternoon.   I would like to take credit for my sister’s unwavering wit, but fortunately for her, she gets to claim this all on her own.

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Most of you probably know that I’ve been babysitting my nephew every weekday since January.   I usually have music playing for him when he’s awake (he loves to dance!), so Mom got him a CD of children’s songs a while ago.   Listening to this music with him one day, I realized that children’s songs suck.   I don’t mean that they get old after a while (though that’s true).   I mean that they’re not good for children.  Some of them teach entirely the wrong messages to kids, and others are just plain weird.  Like really disturbing.

As an aunt, I am concerned for the mental/emotional health of my nephews.  For this reason, I have compiled a list of songs that could jeopardize that and the reason for which they should be banned (we’ll just skip over the moose song, because I actually like that one).

Not all of them are bad.  ’Old MacDonald Had a Farm’ is great.  Learning animal sounds is important for children, and we can wait until they’re older to tell them that that happy cow on nice Mr. MacDonald’s farm is tomorrow night’s dinner.

But how about ‘Oh Where, Oh Where Has My Little Dog Gone?’  I’m not sure how singing about lost puppies is supposed to make children happy.  I suppose it works, because people keep singing it.  But as someone who has always loved animals, it just makes me want to cry.  Unless it’s Tucker that’s lost.  That might be alright.

Next on my list is ‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.’  I see two problems with this one.  First, who are we to think we can command nature?  That’s God’s job.  Then it says, “like a diamond in the sky.”  And you wonder why our culture is so materialistic.  ’Hush, Little Baby’ doesn’t help with that either.  It’s like nothing will ever be good enough for that kid.  What a brat.

‘Mary Had A Little Lamb.’  Sweet fluffy little sheep follows his owner to school.  Aww, how cute! Not really.  I think it’s kind of weird.  I don’t know if this little lamb just had separation anxiety or if he was some creepy stalker sheep, but for whatever reason, he just would not  leave her alone.   Stalking is not a topic for small children, nor is this next one:

My favorite, ‘Ring Around The Rosey!!’  Yay, Black Plague!!   You probably already know that that’s what this song is about, but did you ever think of the potentially devastating effects it could have on your kids?  This obsession with death is not good for children.  If your teen is wearing too much black and writing creepy poetry, it’s probably your fault for singing such morbid music to them in their early years.

Sorry, Blair & Nate.  Hope he turns out alright.

Stealing is for losers. Copyright 2008-2012 Beth Anne Ballance