:: For when my memory fails me.

H. Happenings

Welcome wheels.

We've developed a new way to greet the dad of the family as he arrives home from work.  It usually goes down like this:  I'm slaving away in a hot kitchen making something uber difficult and gourmet -- like spaghetti -- when my cell rings and it's the daddy on the line.  The daddy then reports that his GPS indicates he's in the driveway.  I drop my duties of watching noodles boil and spaghetti sauce bubble and inform the troop that she's wanted out front stat.  The troop then squeals a high-pitched "Daddy!" and hightails it to the nearest exit.  From there, she runs like Forrest Gump -- leg braces, if she had them, flying to the left and right and a cloud of dust swirling behind her.

Once the welcome-home kisses have been handed out and Kennedy's secured her spot in the driver's seat, the honking begins and the excitement bubbles over like the pot of boiling noodles I had left unattended on the stove.

We don't condone Britney Spears for letting her kids drive on her lap, nor do we condemn driving a few feet into the garage with a Kennedy on our lap. 

Wagoning for bagels.

Bagel outings via the wagon are pretty much out of season now that it's an average of 111 degrees outside.  We had our last one a few weeks ago and Kennedy only tried escaping once.  Apparently, riding in a wagon for three miles can get mundane.

 

We saved our leftovers for the local birds that frequent the same bagel shop we do.  Kennedy aimed and fired her blueberry bagel scraps towards any tree, rock or, if luck would have it, bird she found in her radar. 

 Fairy Tale Fishing. 

Did you know you can catch a Princess Barbie using nothing but a pool noodle?

'Tis true. 

:: This was a one pound Snow White Trout that put up a struggle, but Kennedy kept the line steady and reeled that baby in, in under five minutes. 

Backyard Bowling.

The introduction of smelly shoes, wrist masters, strikes, gutter balls and the side leg action the pros use

-- and the one thing I always fail to emulate -- were introduced to an eager virgin bowler.

Girl already has her own style too...

However, we're working on the lack of enthusiasm.  Apparently, I forgot to tell her about the victory dance -- that only gets more elaborate and drawn out when the beer is flowing, I might add -- you're supposed to do when you've avoided the gutter and the pins are no longer vertical. 

Baby bowling steps.

Memorial memories.

I think most of us have friends that we wish lived closer.  Like, next door closer.  For us, those friends are the Benhams.  Unfortunately, it takes a two hour plane ride to see them.  Which means Holly and I are forced to exchange craft ideas, life updates and birthday wishes (again, happy birthday, Holly) via text messages.  Sure, we occasionally go old school and email each other, but the fact remains that our relationship is solely dependent on electronics.  But when the message is sent saying that plane tickets have been bought and bunking under the same roof is near, you can bet that the excitement level is at its highest and the days leading up to departure/arrival go by like molasses slithering down a mason jar.

We were excited to see our friends; however, they weren't the same friends we had last seen in December.  They had multiplied. 

Even Kennedy was smitten. 

Frankly, Vivian had us all at "coo."

And then there was Wynnie.  There's a level of comfort I have with Wynnie that allows me to run wildly through someone else's kitchen while cheering on bites of noodles and pears that I usually reserve for the comfort of my own home.  But with her, I dive into all the same mothering antics I shovel out with Kennedy.  She's good like that -- welcoming us into her home, sharing all her toys with Kennedy and being so un-shy that more than once I found her naked, on the toilet and asking me to wipe her.  Love that girl and love that she lets me mother her as if she were my own.

And I love the Kennedy and Wynnie combo.  There were a lot of "mine"s thrown out during the duration of our stay, but, oh, did my heart do flips when I caught them huddled together and giggling during a game of hide-and-seek.  Or when I peeked around the corner of the play room and there they sat on bean bags, toes touching, engrossed in what Mickey was telling Minnie on the TV. 

Or when I told them there was a coyote chasing an elephant outside to try and get them to look my way for a picture -- and they believed me.

We devoted most of our time to entertaining the girls, but in between T-ball lessons and visits to places with jumpy houses and trampolines, the girls -- and by girls, I mean the bigger, more mature girls -- found their way to an Adele concert (the last one in her North American tour -- she had to cancel all the rest due to laryngitis...can you say lucky us) and the boys had a nice little date night that included sushi and a movie.

(This was one of those "mine" instances.  Hence, the death grip on all of the balls and bat.)

The weekend promised to be a good one -- what, with the ingredients being comparable to chocolate and peanut butter how can you possibly go wrong?  Much like chocolate and peanut butter, the Benhams and the Hokenstads are good just by themselves, but put them together and you get a whole other level of bliss.

Yes, the weekend delivered all that was promised, and we left wishing for another day spent watching our girls brush their teeth together.  So, we'll continue our tradition of making Memorial memories, and in the meantime, we'll patiently wait for the message confirming a Benham reservation at the Hokenstad Hotel.

Want to see how these two have changed in a year?  Click here to see.

Instagram Academy Awards

Curious to know what lurks on my iPhone camera roll?  Yeah, me too.  So, during nap time today, I rummaged through old and new pics and came up with a collection of some of my favorites and tossed ones with half-opened eyes and blurry images to the trash bin.  From there, and to make this post a little more interesting, I awarded an Academy Award of sorts to some of the fave finalists. Please hold your applause 'til the end.

And the InstaOscar goes to:

Best Actress in a Leading Role.

Best Costume Design.

Best Visual Effect.

Best Actress in a Supporting Role.

Best Kiss. (wait, that might be the MTV Movie Awards..whatev)

Best Actor in a Leading Role.

Best Art Direction.

And the Best Picture goes to...

Just some words.

Brandon hasn't been traveling nearly as much, which in turn has made my one-woman band bed time routine extinct and has allowed me the opportunity to sit back and enjoy the difference between baths given by yours truly and baths given by the dad.  In case you're wondering, they're quick.  Like, military style.  There's no messing around when daddy has the washcloth in hand, but get Kennedy out of the tub and he turns into an act straight from the circus.  Entertaining a rebellious slippery fish out of water who has developed a distaste for lotion and jammies is no small feat, but it seems daddy has found his calling.
 

She's getting more teeth.  The only difference is now she can tell me that there's a "boo boo" in her mouth.  And she's not shy when it comes to telling me she needs medication to ease the toothache.  Although, sometimes I believe she's feigning mouth pain just to get a taste of the grape-flavored syrup that's only to be administered every four hours.

Yesterday, I asked Kennedy what she wanted for breakfast.  "Mac and cheese" said my bed-headed girl.  We had a bagel instead.

The other day Kennedy grabbed my chin and pulled my face directly in front of hers and said, "Mommy happy?"  After I laughed, gave her a big hug and replied back that I, indeed, was so very happy, she shouted, "Happy, happy, happy!"

Meet our new neighbors.  I think there was a little confusion with the property line, though.  They took up residency in our courtyard, and I've been stalking them ever since the first egg hatched.  Mother bird was wise in picking our tiny pencil tree to set up shop in as I'm a lover of all things baby.  Although, I'm not certain she knew I'd haul one of our bar stools over to the window where her nest is perched less than an arm's length away and then lug my own baby up on the stool with me and get all National Geographic on her and try explaining how regurgitation works.  She probably also didn't know that this haul and lug science class would be one of our daily doings.

Not to fret mama bird, I come in peace.  Just to prove that, I've been keeping an obnoxiously curious four-legged foe preoccupied with other hobbies so as to keep baby bird maulings off the rap sheet.
 

I often forget about Kennedy's middle name and then out of nowhere it speaks to me.

Darling...

Summer is here.  Or maybe it's coming.  I guess it depends on the region you live in.  Today, it feels like it's here, but I just talked to my mom and she was under a blanket and talked of a heater clicking on the other morning.
 

We had an impromptu visit to the zoo yesterday.  Out of the blue and close to lunch time, followed by nap time -- let's just say the wrong time, Brandon says, "Let's go to the zoo."  I cocked my head to the side, scrunched my nose and rolled up the right side of my upper lip.  He could see the answer coming before I said it.  But he was persistent in true Brandon style, and I dragged my feet the entire time I got ready to go to the zoo.

You know, sometimes I'm really glad he doesn't listen to me when I say no.  We didn't even see that many animals due to the amount of people and the sun beating down on us, but it was a nice change of scenery and the zoo's ice tea rocks.

We're headed to Denver soon.  Kennedy in her own seat on the flights there and back.  Our first trip where we had to buy her a seat.  Soon, Sweet Tomatoes will be charging me for her to graze on their salad bar.  She's starting to cost more, yes indeedy, but that just means she growing, getting older and still blessing our lives.  And that, my friends,  is my definition of priceless.