Oh Fall where art thou?

The heat wave here in California has been insufferable. Three digit heat. "Spare the Air" days. It's like July finally arrived, two months too late and we are all melting. Though I love California I must say that I grieve not having four complete seasons. It is either sunny/hot or rainy/cold and barely anything in between. And I'm a Fall girl through and through.  It pains me to see my boots and clogs in the back of my closet gathering dust. And it pains me to see the leaves go from green to crunchy brown overnight. (Any of you in the mid west, east coast area, fill free to mail me some of your colorful leaves so I can remember what Fall is like.) Ok, enough whining. So last Sunday evening the kids had an opportunity to swim at their cousin's community pool.
There were enough goggles to go around...

Yep, the pain about goggles, like California summers, is that they linger way past their welcome.

you are here

At the end of one very looooooong week and weekend we found ourselves 

quite literally (and somewhat figuratively).........

Meanwhile, back at car...totally bored out of my mind.

And that concludes one of my more interesting moments from this past weekend.
Hahaha, funny now. But not then.
But all is well, the tank is full.

And Dad, we've employed a gong buzzer to go off when ever we go below 1/4th of tank.
Love, your daughter.
(How much do we owe you for the gas and containers?)

iheartfaces: yeah for chalk!

I had to smile when my email inbox announced yesterday that this week's theme on iheartfaces was "chalk". Last week during Bean's family birthday gathering the cousins completely covered my parent's driveway with their chalk art. Do you not agree that sidewalk chalk is one of the cheapest, yet most satisfying forms of childhood entertainment?  Here is Little Cupcake showing me her "rabbit". Can you see it? (It's that white blob by her feet.)

I have many more pictures from their chalk time to show you later but for now, head on over to iheartfaces and see what other chalk fun everyone is having.

Oh, and have a fantabulous Monday.
xoxo

p.s. Can't wait to tell you about our little family experience we had on the side of the freeway yesterday. Come back this week and enjoy mocking a family other than your own. (And my dad will make is first appearance on my blog.)

baby's got her pink shoes...and then some

There was a time in my life, pre-marriage, that I would have easily sacrificed my weekly food budget money for a pair of unnecessary shoes. 

Food? Who needs food? 

So it is no surprise that during that time in my life I had a closet full of shoes, and I was a few pounds lighter. JK. I never starved myself. I just weighed less because my younger-something metabolism was lightening fast, unlike it is today. (But that's another discussion.)

But it's true about the closet full of shoes. It was just so hard not to buy them. How could I go home without them? And it did not help to have a roommate or two that also loved to buy shoes. (Yes, let's blame it on them. Bad bad influences!)

Then I was hit with a dose of reality.

After I married, stopped working after my second born, our budget grew much tighter. Like uncomfortably tighter. Suddenly the "clothing" budget line item amount grew smaller and it had to be spread among three other people. Baby needed new socks, hubby needed new work shirts, and the twenty dollars I had left had to be spent on a badly needed, totally necessary, new bra, or something boring like that. (My thought has always been, that unless I was Madonna, my bra would be seen by no one outside of my home so why would I want to spend my money on a bra?!)  Somehow I knew that it would not be appropriate if my family all showed up to the dinner table to find only rice and beans while I sat happily donning my new red flats...or caramel suede boots...or black patent pumps.

Yes, unnecessary shoes became totally...unnecessary.  

I grieved a little bit. 

A lot.

And then a strange thing happened: after awhile (like several years) of not having a lot of money to spend willy-nilly on the unnecessaries, I found I did not want what I thought I wanted. Moreover, I even found that I did not need what I thought I needed. And we're talkin' more than just shoes.

In fact, it was a little disconcerting to uncover the things that fueled my overwhelming "wants". I found that "wanting" something is fueled by a loaded mixture of discontent, grudging admiration for something someone else has, or a belief that to have that something will scratch and itch that is insatiably itchy.

Going without is sometimes the best medicine. 

To tell you the truth, it was a bit freeing. 

I began to understand what it felt like to live a more simple life.

But to be honest...once in a while I walk through a shoe department and spy a pair of totally unnecessary shoes and think about what it would be like to purchase them. I find I do not have the same craving as I once did, which is nice, but I wonder if I would feel differently if I suddenly had a lot of money?

For I never want my cravings to expand to the size of my wallet. I actually fear this happening should I ever win the lottery.

So, if I ever do win the lottery I give you permission to remind me of this. Not that I believe we are to not enjoy the blessings that are given to us, I just don't ever want to be ruled by the cravings to have the unnecessaries. You know what I mean?

Again, feel free to smack me upside the head if you hear that I've won the lottery and then you see me walking around in a pair of totally unnecessary shoes.

(The ones that Lady Gaga wears through the airport come to my mind.)

When we are old ladies...

A couple of weeks ago some friends of ours gathered for my son's birthday on the beach. It was a unique moment in that three of my dearest friends on the planet were all in one space together. This happens perhaps once a year, if that, and so I was very pushy about handing the camera off to one of the hubbies in an effort to capture me with them. I do not tell them enough how much I love them, or how much they have meant to me, so today I am going to gush. I make no apologies for the length of this post. I know it might be boring for you to read about my personal friendships, but I have been thinking a lot about the meaning of true friendship lately and these women are the picture of what it means to me. I wanted to encapsulate my memories and thoughts about them in an effort to publicly state just how important they are to me.

Below is a mix of treasured memories and insights about each of them.

"VW" (vee-dub)

• She was my post college roommate for four years, which probably explains why...  
• ...little old ladies in church and countless others have mistaken us for sisters. And it only gets more frequent as time goes on. Just the other day a fellow mistook us for twins. (What? I'm a blond right?)
• Our first conversation took place in 1989 over the identical denim Guess overalls we owned. (This was the 80's people.) Hundreds of dressing rooms, "fashion checks", and accidental matchy matchy outfits later...
• There were many long shopping afternoons after church that resulted in her passing out in the passenger seat on the way home.
• She is my special friend who insists on a nice hotel room and room service.
• She has taught me the art of buying, returning, buying, returning, until the perfect item is found.
• There have been many road trips in various cars "rented" from her dad's car dealership: minivans to Disneyland, Jeeps Wranglers down the coast of California, and the governmental-issued sedans for various other outings.
• She really listens to me, has logged thousands of hours (sometimes over hundreds of miles) of conversation with me--over everything near and dear. She knows me well...like a sister.
• I have a treasured memory of "shopping" in a "grocery store" in the heart of Baja Mexico, attempting to buy food to feed 50+ college students. Quiero dos kilos de jamon americano, por favor.
• I believe that she was one of the first women to insist on having her bridesmaids wear black at the wedding. This was during the time when bridesmaids were relegated to the poofy, lacy, prom dresses in hues of peach and teal. (You're such a trend setter VW.)
  
• There was that time we slept in a small tent with our husbands in Door County, Wisconsin,  and suffered many a weird look. (Hey, we were trying to save money and car space by not having to pack two tents in a two door Honda Civic!)  I also remember traveling the mid west country side swearing that we'll never own lawn art. (Have you seen how serious mid westerners are about their lawn art?) Oh, but the Wisconsin cheese was pretty good.
• We have shared hundreds chocolate themed desserts. And cheese plates. And only one Cosmopolitan on a New Years Eve outing in Chicago. (I will just say this: never again.)
• She hiccups when she laughs too much. My son inherited this trait from her. Love that.
• She thinks I am the best mom and is always calling for "tips".  I am always so afraid to burst her bubble especially when I think she is the best mom.
• She is fiercely loyal and protective and would defend me to her grave. 
• She has an eye for efficiency and business and is an amazing leader when she takes on that role. I have a feeling she will be stepping up to more of those roles in the near future.
• She calls to arrange "Tracey Time" even if it's shopping the aisles of Target for toilet paper and toothpaste. (We have been known to be at Target 'till 11pm during holiday hours.)
• I remember the long hard conversation about the boy who was a "friend" that she had been meeting at coffee shops to "study with" and "talk". They had planned another "study" time and he had come to her work, dressed up, holding a dozen red roses, to state his intentions that he would like their meeting to be a date, and would that be okay with her?  I looked her in the face and told her that if she didn't snag this guy then she was making the biggest mistake of her life. What man would be so public in his intentions, so forthright, so crystal clear, when most of us, at the time, were dating uncommunicative, wishy-washy boys?!  An amazing man, that's what.
• She is always stating the best about me, always encouraging me.
• We will find each other in Heaven at the calorie-free chocolate bar. (Yes, there is one there!) And she will forgive me for the poundage she gained in our college days from my chocolate chip cookies.

Someday we will be two old ladies, sisters, shopping the aisles of T.J.Maxx. We'll be the ones laughing and chatting, our carts full, only to be emptied once we realize we don't want to spend the money. Warning: we may be wearing black leggings as our fashion cycles always seem to circle back to them.

 "A-Cheese" (can you tell who is who in the picture above?)

• She is my "unofficial" roommate due to many shared rooms, beds, cars over the last twenty one years. If we went to the same college I'm sure we would have found each other. But alas, she went to the "party" school. I went to the studious university. Ironically, she got the better education.
• My first impression of her as I watched her on the beach during summer camp counselor orientation week: fun, extroverted, life of the party, out-going----she'll never want to be friends with me.
• Two weeks later we raced through the mountains in her little car, late for a meeting, stuck behind a slow semi, laughing at our predicament. We've been racing through life together ever since, often on the same road, staring down the same semi. A gift from God truly, that he would give me someone so dear with which to share the road.
• I have lost count over the many talks we have had while sitting in beach chairs, slathering on tanning lotion. --Talks about boyfriends, life, then marriage, then parenting, then probably back to boyfriends once our girls start dating. (Oh, and we've moved on to sunscreen.)
• It is no surprise then, that in heaven we will find each other at the beach. Two beach chairs waiting side by side, with a big bowl of guacamole and chips on the side.
• We held each other's hands (and feet) through the births of our children. And yes, I do have picture proof of her and my hubby watching tv while I labored through contractions.
• We share a love for camping trips, but they always seem to end with a bear experience. (We can all agree that I am totally useless in a bear experience.)
• In our college days we took trips to the Renaissance Fair, shopping the trinket booths for the boyfriend at the moment. (Ahem, cough cough...her boyfriend of the moment.)
• I vividly remember talking her down off the "what am I going to do?" ledge when she discovered the guy who had been sending her love notes drove a late 1970's copper colored Camero, and had a mullet. I talked her off the ledge because he really was a good catch, honest and faithful, and probably could be convinced to sell the car and cut his hair...which he did. And then she married him.
• Every time I go to her house she pulls out her new chip "find" because she knows I will thank her for the new discovery, and eat the entire bag. 
• She is known for frequently "hamming it up". And, not easily embarrassed. Not sure if she'll be exactly like her ninety-something Italian grandma wearing her bra around the house in front of her house guests, but she might come close. I hope she comes close.
• She laughs so hard, she laughs at herself laughing, and then laughs at us laughing at her, laughing. Thinking about this part of her makes me laugh.
• I razz her often about the time we were sitting on her front porch in her college-town and I was insisting that she cut my hair. How hard could it be to cut a straight line? A little trim? I still love her, but I shoulda paid a professional.
• She is faithful and true, wears her heart on her sleeve for me.
• She always says, "Love ya friend" when we hang up on the phone.
• She is passionate (must be the 100% Italian blood) about her convictions, family, her integrity and a great example to me of what it means to be selfless. 
• Someday God will offer her a big comfy bed of rest with an all-you-can eat platter of Italian food. It will be a generous reward for her hard work ethic and the fact that God gave her an earthly hubby who was allergic to tomatoes.  (I know! How unfortunate is that for a 100% Italian girl?!)

Someday we'll be two old ladies still dragging our hubbies on camping trips, talking around the campfire. Except that we'll own our Airstream trailers. And we won't have to make hot dogs and mac-n-cheese.

RM

• She is my "would have been a college roommate if I had known her then" because it feels like I have known her forever.
• I remember finding her amongst a group of young married couples at church and discovering we were both high school teachers to sophomores and then later, that we were pregnant at the same time. Our boys were born five days apart. Our friendship was sealed.
• We traveled the new-mom road with all of its highs and lows. (Oh and there were lots of both.)
• She takes a keen interest in my life and always calls to get "caught up". I will never get tired of hearing her say, "So tell me about your weekend!"
• She has a crazy love for movies. She really should have been a movie critic, writing reviews for the press. She is my twice-a-year, movie partner (our birthdays are exactly six months apart) and always loves a good discussion following the flick. I know there was some slight grieving when Orlando Bloom married over the summer.  I meant to send flowers but forgot.
• I remember calling her while sitting on the couch, nursing my newborn son, and asking her, the once soap opera queen, to explain the back stories to All My Children.
• I also remember frequently calling her for baby napping advice.
• And calling her for dinner suggestions.
• And calling her for vitamin and food advice.
• And calling her for thoughts on why my skin is so itchy, my husband so tired, my son wakes up so snotty nosed.
• And calling 911 when her first born boy slipped and fell and snapped his right femur in two. Then bringing her meals while she tended to her three year old son in a half body cast.
• And then there was that time a couple of years later she called me to tell me her middle boy had snapped the same femur in the same place while snow sledding. I felt her pain...and began praying for her youngest boy. 
• I have swapped many a book with her, waiting for each other to finish so we can "chat, review, assess".
• We have pushed our jogger strollers over miles and hills, talking and feeding our kids Cheerios along the way to keep them occupied. 
• Early on in our friendship we discovered our mutual need for chips to accompany our sandwiches. (Who is the person that can eat a sandwich without chips??)
• I was sad when she canceled her People magazine subscription because that meant the end of it for me too.
• We will find each other in Heaven at the all-you-can-eat-fully-gluten-and-sugar-laden buffet. And we will not have any lasting after effects. 
• Ha! I loved discovering her love for the 80's and watching her do the Hungry Like the Wolf crawl at her 40th bday party. (Remember that Duran Duran video 80's people?)
• She is my newly found texting friend. (A-Cheese and VW have not arrived yet.) 
• She remembers more about the details of my life than I often do. She is extremely perceptive and wise, always cheering me on toward health and wholeness in every area of my life.
• Someday she will own her own health and wellness clinic. Oh, and she will get that uninterrupted full-night's sleep.

When we are little old ladies we will be still walking and talking, going to see the latest movie, or meeting at some coffee shop, and probably still texting to "check in". And I will still enjoy answering the phone to hear her say, "Tell me about your weekend!"

Each of these women occupy a special spot in my heart that the other cannot fill. They are irreplaceable sisters and I am one blessed woman to know, and be known by, them.

Let the whole world know that I love, love, love them beyond words.

(Now I can pretty much go water the flower bed with the bucket of tears I just cried.)

P.S. I'd like to think that my reflex skills are quick and that is why I am so ahead of them running 

from that wave. But honestly, I think I just saw it coming and then I might have yelled at 

them to get out of the way, but probably not. 

Every woman for herself! 

 Wow. I'm such a good friend.

P.P.S. And thanks Mr. S for taking the camera off of my hands. You worked it man!

My Bean is eight

Do you remember this picture I posted a couple of weeks ago? 

I promised to myself that I would get back there, in that golden light, with my camera and perhaps a willing subject. Monday night I looked at Bean across the dinner table and as we were counting down the days to her birthday I suddenly had this huge need to take her back to that beautiful place and to capture her on the eve of her eighth birthday. We raced over there and explored for an hour while the sun bathed everything with its golden light. I came home and put this little slide show together to document our time together, and my Bean as she drew near to her special day. I thought the slide show went better with some music, so I picked Bean's favorite singer, Colbie Caillet and her favorite song, "Bubbly". I thought it was an appropriate match. :)

Enjoy...

Bean's birthday photo shoot from Tracey Morris on Vimeo.

Shortly after 5am on September 22nd, 2002, after only four hours of labor, I pushed through four contractions and out came my tiny daughter, wide eyed and ready for the world. She was transferred  into my arms and I felt an instantaneous affection for her. As I held her in her during her first few hours of sleep I watched a smile spread over her face.  Whether it was the product of some baby dream, touch of an angel, or perhaps just some really good baby gas, it took me by surprise. Two weeks later as I cuddled her in my lap,  she smiled at me again, this time with her eyes wide open, fully aware of my face. Again, I was shocked that such a smile came from only a two week old! I see now that my Bean was born into this world with a joyful disposition, a sensitive heart, and an engaging spirit.

She was the most bubbly, smiley baby ever.

I like to tell her that she smiled at doorknobs, lint on the floor, bath toys, cherrios. If you caught her eye as you passed through the room she would beam back at you. She was always fully engaged, eager to connect with whomever would give her attention. As she grew into a toddler that smiley personality turned into a comical one. She loved to make us laugh, had the funniest sense of humor, and loved a good knee slapping moment.

I would say:

You're such a fruit!

You're such a fruity!

You're such a funny bean.

You're such a funny mcfruity bean.

McFruity Bean...and then Bean, for short. It stuck. It encapsulated everything about her.

And now it's:

Hey Bean, will you grab me my book?

Hey McBean, it's time for your bath.
 

Hey le Bean, how was school?

Hey le smoochy Bean, how 'bout a smooch?

Beanly, where did you put my tape?

Bean! So glad you are home!

So today my Bean turns eight. As I kissed her good night last night she said to me, Mom, I am sad to leave seven.

Oh my sweet Bean, I am sad too. But so happy for you, for this day, for your eighth year of life to begin today. I know I always tell you that you are not allowed to grow any bigger, but that is just my way of trying not to let go of your littleness. The truth is, that if I had your smaller self back I would grieve the loss of who you are today. I have enjoyed every year of your life. Enjoyed watching you grow up into the special, unique, person that you are.

I love that you still cuddle with me, on the couch, in bed, on my lap at church.

I love that you still hold my hand.

I love that you are expressive, unusually articulate with your emotions and feelings.

I love that you find life funny.

I love that you love school, love your teachers, love your friends.

I love that you are social, yet shy in new situations.

I love that you are keenly observant, notice when I change my earrings or get my hair cut, put make up on.

I love that you have a memory like a steel trap.

I love that you are full of imaginations, creative ideas.

I love that you play with your dolls, play teacher to your line up of stuffed animals.

I love that you sing a little off key.

I love that you insisted on wearing those crazy purple ankle boots on the first day of school.

I love that you always give me smooches when I ask for them.

I especially love that you are so demonstrative with your love towards me and those closest to you.

You are a beyond anything I could have every dreamed of when I imagined having a little girl.

And out of all of the eight year old children in this world, I would immediately, without skipping a beat, race to you and grab you out of the line and hold you to myself. I cannot imagine my world without you in it.

Happy Birthday my Bean.

I love you with all the love my mama heart can possibly hold, and then some.

Mama

xoxo

sentimental for those tiny toes

Oh my gosh. What is my problem? Why am I so goo-goo over babies right now? I sat at the dinner table last night and told my kids that I missed nursing them. Missed their soft heads, holding their little feet in my hands, feeling their leggy "chub chubs" (well, mainly Bean's, cause Zach was a twig) and watching them look up at me that sweet sweet smile. I missed their compact little bodies fitting perfectly in my arms while they nursed their bellies full.

Yeah. My eleven year old looked at me mid-dinner bite and then looked away like he didn't really know what to do with that piece of information. I promised him I wouldn't be bringing that up in front of any of his friends.

Today is the eve of Bean's birthday and so I am suddenly sappy and sentimental and unable to move into tomorrow's reality: I will have an eleven and an eight year old. They are growing too fast, no longer sitting with me in the rocker, nursing, falling asleep in my arms.

It is the passage of time flying past me with ever increasing speed that causes my heart to sap and weep with the loss of yesterday...and yesterday's yesterday.

Some one please come and wipe me up off the floor.

I am weepy for those tiny ten toes.

slush puppie lovin'

This was a "moment" we had Saturday evening at the fair. In the middle of kid chaos they discovered the Slush Puppie display. There were some bummed feelings over the fact that there were not enough "puppies" to accommodate all of the kiddos, hence the dejected middle-man there in the picture below. But not to fear! We sorted it out with individual slushie pictures, and thus the very fun and colorful collage above. Hurray! Peace and harmony won in the end.

And now it is Monday and I am off and running towards a very crazy next two weeks which will end with a visit to my very favorite place. I am counting down the days.

Happy Monday!
xoxo

scenes from a block party: it's really all about the...

F.O.O.D.

And now I am off to the county fair to stuff my face with a corn dog. 

Which is really the only reason why I go...the corn dog. 

None of the wimpy grocery store brand variety. Pass.

Bring on the totally bad-for-you hot dog, dipped in real batter, and fried to perfection, 

with a cup of mustard on the side.

That's what I'm talkin' about.

 

coming full circle

Five years ago we moved to our new little town. As you can guess, everything was new new new: friends, roads, grocery stores, schools. My son was only five (I know, he's grown so much!) and just beginning his first grade year at school. After leaving his previous wonderful kindergarten class in our old town I was nervous, scared, and emotional about beginning a new school. Note, I was. My projected motherly feelings that I placed on my son were probably not as true to his own but nonetheless, he was a bit nervous as well. On the day of "meet and greet" I held his hand as we walked onto the new school campus and then through the doors of his first grade classroom. Our eyes landed on Mrs. S. She was beautiful, smiley, sweet, welcoming, gentle, and instantly like-able. Her room was colorful, clean, fun, organized.

I burst into tears. I probably ran into in her arms but I was such a mess I don't remember anything else.

So here we are, five years later.
Meet Mrs. S (still beautiful, sweet, and gentle as ever) and her family...

 

We left the house and walked over to a nearby park. 

I had to include this shot below just because I loved Little Guy looking back at me.

These last two pictures were our walk on the way back home. Little Guy insisted on pushing his own car, like-nobody-else-touch-it-or-I-will-have-a-royal-melt-down-if-you-do. 
 Note dad in the picture on the left: What?! I didn't touch it?

 

And that my friends is a brief story of our time together one afternoon, five years after we met.
How fun to capture Mrs. S's Little Guy with his coffee-colored eyes and amazing head of hair, and his big personality. Such a privilege to give back to one of my son's first teachers.
The sweet circle is complete.

Happy Friday!
xoxo