The wonderful world of toddlers

Just a small glimpse into what life with a toddler is all about:

The seemingly innocent grocery store trip.  Most of the time I go on the weekends or when Emma is in school (i.e. by myself).  There is something so calming about that liesurely stroll through the isles, checking out new products, reading the nutritional labels, comparing prices...

However, having to go when I've got a toddler in tow, it's a completely different experience.  Today was a fine example...

It all started with the "kiddy" cart.  You know the ones with the little cars attached to them.  You strap the kid in and they can pretend to steer while you buzz down the isles.  Never mind that the damn thing is as big as a Buick and steers about like the Titanic.  But hey, if it keeps her happy, then I'm all for it.  And it did manage to intrigue her curiosity... for about 10 minutes anyways.

Thanks to a few recent trips to Lowe's with Daddy, Emma has now learned that she doesn't have to stay in the cart.  She can get out and run up & down isles, pull things off the selves, talk to complete strangers, just pretty much act like she's in an indoor playground.  This wouldn't really bother me if I only had to get a few things and was just making a quick trip.  However, today was a "two sheet-er" grocery list, not to mention I'm in a new store where I haven't figured out where everything is, so I didn't really have the time to stop a toddler from climbing the shelves like they're a jungle gym, on top of trying to make sure she wasn't kid-napped by that illusive "boogey man".

So needless to say, a temper tantrum ensued once I told her, "No, you can not get out of your seat."  Thus began the relentless screaming, stopping only to inject repeated versions of this:

 

So I hurry through my list, try to "nicely" push my Titanic-sized cart through all the lil old ladies buying their Thanksgiving goodies, all the while trying to calm a 2 y.o. thats screaming like a banshee.  The looks I was getting were relentless, so much that I just stop making eye contact.  Head down, eye on the prize.

The check out line did provide some relief, found one that was open with no waiting.  The eager young teenage boy who is out of school this week and trying to earn an extra buck upheld his end of the deal and made some small talk with Emma.  This provided long enough time for me to make sure I used the right credit card, those bananas rang up on sale, that's good.  Whew, the blood pressure was starting to subside.

Finally make it out to the car, find my inner Incredible Hulk and pick up like 14 bags at one time and hurl them in the car.  Now comes the sweet, sweet serenity of granting the child the one thing she has been begging for for the last hour.

"Ok Emma, let's get out of your seat!"

Brows furrow, chin drops, hands on hips...

"NOOOOOOOOO!!!!"

Obscenities flow through my brain at such rapid fire that even if I wanted to voice them it wouldn't have came out as anything legible.

Home is where the heart is

I certainly don't think of myself as being "well-traveled".  Never made that trip out west like I've always wanted, never been to NYC, to Europe?  I wish.  But I definitely feel I've had lots of addresses within the last ten years.  There were the five addresses in my four year stay in Raleigh.  (really?)  Then we squeezed in a short stay in Birmingham.  Then came the big move to Roanoke.  We had an apartment for a few months, then we purchased our first home.  This home was so special and so good to us.  It survived our first few years of marriage, it witnessed those long, tiresome nights when we first brought home Emma.  It saw her take her first steps, eat her first birthday cake, and speak her first words.  Wonderful memories indeed.

 And oh the friendships made along the way.  The kind that will last a lifetime.  I'll still be reminiscing with these folks when it's Emma's turn to go to college or have her first child.

But through all these many addresses, all these wonderful experiences, all these cherished friendships, my heart kept pulling me back to my roots.  To where it thinks is home.

 

Well, I'm so happy to say, our newest address is the closest to home I've been in a long time.  We've only been here a week and I can already feel a rekindling of my former self.  There is just something about returning home that just warms the soul.  My heart, so to speak, is happy.

The seasons are a'changin

Well just like every other season change these last couple years, feels like fall arrived in a matter of about two days.  One day we were wearing shorts and t-shirts, the next we're pulling out winter coats.  The seasons are a'changin my friends.

I love the anticipation that comes with each season change.  In the spring everyone is coming out of hibernation and starts busying themselves with gardens and flower pots.  The onset of summer inevitably means vacations must be planned and summer camp registrations must be completed.  Skipping ahead to winter, of course the excitement for holidays and family gatherings builds, but also sleds get dusting off and the ski equipment gets a tune up.

But the beginning of fall is a very special time indeed.  One might even say it's the best season of all.  Why is that?  Maybe it goes back to our olden days when fall meant harvest time, when we would finally get to enjoy the fruits of our spring and summer labors.  Or perhaps it's because it's the beginning of the end.  No more farming crops, no more tending fields (or in modern times, no more mowing lawns, no more pulling weeds).  It's the beginning of the end of the year.  And then we start a'new.   And oh boy, with all the beautiful leaves bursting with color, we sure do go out with a bang.

So as I sit and wait for those colors to burst, for those fields to be harvested, for the lawn mower to be stored away, my anticipation builds.  Yes my friends, the seasons are a'changin.

The loss of a loved one

Margaret Jeanette Herman, age 82, passed away on August 31st.  Most folks in the community knew her as "Jean", but to me, she was Grandma.

On my wedding day 8/19/06

Life can be a messy thing.  Thinking back to the time I had with my grandmother, there were my childhood days when I probably spent the most time with her but yet took this time for granted.  A naive adolescent - didn't everyone have a Grandma as great as mine?  Then there were the awkward teenage years, not knowing how to put into words the things I observed, things I appreciated, things I loved.  The college years was all about being young and free, and these faded into the married years.  Too busy starting my career, starting my family, just too far away and not enough time to stop by for a visit.  Messy, messy, messy.  As I shared these regrets with my mother when she first told me of Grandma's passing, she had some wonderful words of comfort.  "Martha, if there was anyone who would've understood, it was Grandma."

Christmas 2005

As we greeted family and friends during the services, there was one woman who made a very dear comment to me.  She simply stated, "You look so much like your grandmother."  She was probably just making small talk and didn't realize she would strike such a chord, but like a badge of honor, I shall wear this resemblance with pride.  But as far as personality goes, I can recognize lots of my family members in me.  My mothering skills undoubtedly come from my own mother, some days I'm completely caught off guard by how much I'm starting to sound like her.  My love of the mountains, nature, and all things outdoors comes from my father, and perhaps a bit of my stubbornness.  My fun loving, beach-bumming side comes from my mother's family.  My enjoyment of gathering friends & family comes from my Grandpa Herman, as well as my inability to get anywhere on time.  But if there's anything about me that is kind & tender, fair & just, accepting & thoughtful, I would like to think this comes from my Grandma Herman.

Christmas 2010 - Grandma made sure everyone got a stocking...

 
It is from this slice of the messy-Martha pie that I tapped into to write a few words in remembrance of Grandma.  I shared it with my aunts and was so pleased/honored/humbled that they decided to include it in her eulogy.  I share it with you now only give you a better idea of what my Grandma was like.  Please enjoy.

 

If there is one word that seems to come to mind when I think of my grandmother, it is “homemade”, with all the love and hard work that that word implies.  I think of the hand-crafted Barbie clothes I played with as a child.  The macaroni ‘n cheese dish that only she was able to perfect, despite my best efforts at duplicating her recipe.  The delightful afternoons I spent at her home learning to sew and make crafts.  I’m afraid I can never look at a pipe cleaner without thinking of Grandma.  Or the fact I find myself saving every button I stumble upon, you just never know when you might need one in that shape or color.  The harmonic hum of a sewing machine - that is certainly the sound of Grandma’s house.  Everything about Grandma was made from scratch, made with meticulous love and care.

And then there was her spirit.  Steady, loving, accepting, patient, always the quiet observer - ready to jump in with a quirky little joke that would tickle the heart strings.  Her ability to see the beauty around her:  whether it was a blooming flower, an intricate quilt stitch, or a fluttering bird.  The color blue and its many variations, oh how she cherished each one of them.

We could probably tell a million stories of her giving nature.  Food, clothes, quilts, crafts, all made with love, with care, with each individual in mind.  She had an uncanny ability to provide you with the exact sort of comfort you were in need of.  Always thinking of others and seldom herself.

As we carry on without this beautiful soul in our lives, I think of her now as the young woman I’ve seen in photos.  Her and Grandpa - giddy newlyweds posing for silly pictures in a hayfield.  I imagine Grandpa giving her a big ole smooch as she was reunited with him.  I picture her blushing and sheepishly grinning.  She is happy now and at peace.  This gives me great comfort.

We are all better people for having known her, our lives touched by her special way.  We will think of her often with warm hearts and maybe even a giggle or two (as she would have wanted).   I know I only hope to live my life as greatly as she did.

So we say good bye.  Rest in peace Grandma, we love and we will miss you dearly.

Sometimes, you just have to laugh...

So this weekend we went down to Cody's parents in NC.  And that inevitably meant that on Friday around 4pm I was rushing to get everything packed.  For every one article of clothing I carefully tucked into the suitcase, Emma would rip two out of it and squeal in delight of her pure mischievousness.  Needless to say, wills were battling.  Then I turn around and saw this:

Mommy's shoes & a butterfly hat.  Priceless.

Beach Trip

So we took our annual Beach Trip to Emerald Isle, NC last week.  We go every year during the week of July 4th.

 Side Note:
We did miss the year Emma was born b/c she was exactly two weeks old.  However I was so hormonally off balance I do remember begging, pleading, just down right kicking & screaming for Cody to let us go  (to the point I was in tears).  Luckily he realized taking a newborn on a 6+ hour road trip and staying an entire week with my entire family under one roof was a bad idea.  Thank goodness he stood his ground...

Anywho, so this was our second year having a youngin' on the beach.  That first year was a bit of a doozy.  Before kids, vacation used to be about one thing, and one thing only:

After kids, it's all about this:

And this:

And some beach toys, and towels, and baby sunglasses and sun hats, and, oh yeah, all plans must revolve around naptime, so you can forget about all-day trips to the waterpark.  And don't forget to bring the stroller.  Did we bring the pack 'n play?  What about her sippy cups and kiddy utensils???

Needless to say, it's not quite the relaxing vacation of my younger days.  So that first year (especially after taking the newborn hiatus) was a bit of an adjustment.

So this year I mentally prepared myself before departing.  Now that Emma is an exploring two year old, I knew she'd enjoy all the new adventures of the beach.  So I tried to look forward to this and not reminisce over the carefree, worry-free beach trips of the past.  And to my surprise we did have a really nice time.  Emma was so stinkin' adorable, kicking up sand and running out in the water as deep as she could until someone came & rescued her (or she got plowed over by an incoming wave - opps!).  Fearless this one.

We were even able to do some "multi-tasking".

 

So until next year dear sweet Beach Trip.  I'm learning to love the new you and look forward to what kid-friendly adventures await us in the years to come.

Early morning photo shoot

 

It's first thing in the morning, I'm in my PJs, and I'm raking....  inside.

Why?  Because I can.

Life with a two year old is never boring.