Addie, Summer

School is OUT.

Rolling your eyes is IN.

Fishing and camping up in Golden Gate Canyon State Park.

Dog.  Belly.

With Inspector Mama at the beach.

Learning to golf from Grand-Dad.

Hiking Torrey Pines, with Gwen.  For whom there is no equal.

Hamming.

Goofing.

Being ironic.

As Cyrano de Bergerac.

As America's Next Top Model.

Again, with the beloved (ahem.  Could someone puh-lease move this child OUT here?).

Thoughts on Mama's advice.  No irony this time.

In Laramie.

In Pinedale.

In Jackson, with cousin Kiara, Nolie, and Aunt Heather.

Hi Nana Gloria and Kamille!

At Old Faithful.

I love you, little bird.

Nolie, Summer

Saying goodbye to our beloved preschool teachers Bill,

and Thea (Gaby already left for Peru).

One of her favorite things to do (she's always loved to be rocked, and spun, and swung, and now she can do it herself!).

One

two

three.

Chilling in the swing, with popsicle, boning up on some knock-knock jokes.  Nothing better.

Running past Grand-dad's orange tree

and smelling Ubi's roses.

At the beach.

After swimming.

With Aunt Nanny and Addie.

With cousin Raiff.

In Laramie.

In Pinedale.

In Jackson, with cousin Ben, Addie, cousin Kiara, and cousin Kamille.

At Old Faithful.

I love you, little bug.

Mom in Green

I flew home a few weeks back, just for one day, so I could surprise my mom for her birthday (or, at least, a few days before her birthday).  I snapped a few Droid shots of her one morning--she came down from her bedroom wearing all green--a green top, slacks, and cute little loafers.  Plus some green jewelry:

I don't have very many recent pictures of her, and certainly haven't posted much on this blog.  Probably because I thought I lost her there for a while, and consciously or otherwise have kind of held her at the margins, maybe protecting myself, maybe trying to see where things were at.

Because, from one vantage point, things could seem pretty precarious.  She's still in a persistent state of pain, because that one knee has never healed, not even after a second surgery was supposed to make it right, and she's understandably quite freaked out about going in for a third surgery, which means more meds, more recovery, more pain, and all for a not-very-certain outcome.  I don't think she ever will go in to get things "fixed."  So my mom is 61 and is looking at being in chronic pain for the rest of her life, and really has to just take each day as it comes.  And my dad, though cancer free, is also in precarious health for other reasons, and is 13 years older than mom, so I think my brother and I just watch and observe and hope this period of maintenance, of maintaining whatever fragile equilibrium we have, lasts as long as it can.

Or, from another vantage point, I could appreciate how solid things are, given everything that's happened, and appreciate my mom's strength (which is something that was very important to her during her breakdown--that I see her strength).  Mom sends me boxes of her old magazines every now and then--stuff I wouldn't normally buy but like to read (More, O, Better Homes and Gardens--bathtub reading).  And as I read them I will see excerpts of articles she has underlined, and I enjoy seeing the underlines, and wondering what she has thought.  It occurs to me now I should ask her.

She has underlined bits about finances and retirement; staying married for long periods of time; and especially lots of underlining about how to survive pain, and how to appreciate each day.  When I see these I'm reminded of what my mom's everyday life must be like, which I don't see much of, and how brave and strong she is to make it through each day given everything she has been through.

Mom can be difficult sometimes--she gets pretty easily caught up in the drama of little things that happen, and she can be short-tempered.  Maybe a little disconnected from what I feel is "reality"--she's a little isolated.  Moreso now that she is in pain a lot.  But, these words could also be used to describe me, or any of us at certain times.  So this morning I am just appreciating everything my mom did to bring herself back from the brink, and to be a part of our lives as best she can, and to get up everyday, despite the pain, and get so conscientiously dressed, to be active, to live a good life anyways, and to love.

Gratitude for Grambie

The girls really love visiting their Grambie (E's mom) because she always has cool stuff for them to do, and they just end up having a big mutual love-and-appreciation-fest.  Once, she taught them how to make paper dolls from cardboard and old magazines (right up Addie's alley).  Or she'll bring new paints for them to work with.  Or kites.

On this visit, she brought one of those big bubble-makers.  See?

Feeling lots of gratitude this morning for bubbles, and for Grambie.

A Day at the Beach

I had to spend a few days in a meeting for work this week, and every few minutes my laptop would sleep, and the screensaver would revert to all the pictures on my hard drive.  There were pictures of babies playing:

And babies sleeping:

And being gorgeous:

And cheeks:

And Lord, I just wanted to hold some baby for awhile, and smell that little head, and nuzzle those fat cheeks.

I don't want another baby.  I want my babies.  Just for a little while.  Just for an hour, maybe while they're sleeping.

But then I left work and took the train down to San Diego to meet my family, which no longer has any babies.  And, you know, our day at the beach would have been very different if things weren't exactly as they are now, exactly as they're supposed to be.