Where I Live...

I was cleaning off my computer today and found this....I thought I would share....

This was made from a writing exercise someone at work sent me. _________________________________

I am from the mitten, from Vernor's Ginger Ale, the land of Tigers and Lions, of great lakes that look like oceans and pointing at your palm to show where you live.

I am from the two tone split level house with all the neighborhood kids inside, the pink refrigerator with the freezer on the bottom so you could get to the ice cream, the basement family room, the stairs with the wobbly wrought iron railing and the kitchen that smelled like toast and peanut butter.

I am from tulips in the spring, three shades of lilacs in an emerald green pitcher on the kitchen table and the bushes in the backyard with the little red berries that you aren't supposed to eat.

I am from tinsel on the Christmas tree and comic books in our stockings, presents from the cat, loud laughter and board games after dinner and visiting with neighbors. From names like Cleland and Gladys that teach you about grace and class and the meaning of the word 'family'.

I am from the dawn of the two family income and yet still had parents in the stands cheering at every game. I am from dancing to the Moonlighters, handmade Halloween costumes, homemade popsicles and all the other details I couldn't appreciate until I was much older.

From knowing that everything you put in your mouth would grow hair on your
chest, that a band aid and Kool-aid can both stop me from crying and learning that real artists don't have to color by the numbers.

I am from the games of baseball in the backyard where no grass grew on the 'bases' for years, from hand-me-down jerseys, my bike with the banana seat, purple pom-poms on my roller skates and a tote bag full of markers for coloring.

I am from Germany, England, Ireland, Scotland, the Motor City, Canada and right here in my home town. From potato salad in the summer, pumpkin pie in the fall and cherry tarts on my brother's birthday.

I am from vacationing in the popup camper, mistaken handprints in concrete, lawn chairs at little league games, running through the backyard sprinkler and finishing my mom's Sunday morning coffee so we could leave church early.

I am from the volumes and volumes of pictures in the top of the closet, the unfinished baby book, the shoe boxes full of slides but mostly from the countless stories told over and over that still make us laugh.

This is where I'm from.

Up, Up and Away...

OK...we had some pretty monumental events happen in our household this past weekend, a little blog update will catch everyone up to speed...

Hailey has been trying to pull herself up to a stand for about the past 2 weeks. Last week she did it: she pulled herself up using our living room chair and stood using her own strength for close to 2 whole seconds (with dad hovering right next to her)! Of course she crashed right back down again, but the determination she has is pretty amazing. She seems to have a slight issue with one of her legs not wanting to bend at the knee (you try standing up with one leg out in front of you) but she still manages to do it! It's like watching someone attempt a rock climbing wall for the first time.


This past Friday (June 8th), she started 'parroting' the word "Up". You say "Up" and she most definitely says "Up" right back. The jury is still out on whether or not she knows what "Up" means, or if she is just saying it because it makes everyone around her smile and say it back to her.

Which reminds me....what is in the rulebook about first words? I thought that her first word would be so obvious that you could confidently get it tattooed on your arm - but it isn't really like that. She has been saying DADADADADA and MAMAMAMAM for a while now, but not really in reference to us. It never stops after 4 letters, so I haven't counted it as a word. This time.... 'Up' is very clear, it isn't part of a run-on sentence and she repeats it right after you do. She seems to say it the most often when she is throwing a ball around. However, Nathan says it to her every time he lifts her out of her car seat (which let's face it...is a LOT).


I think the rules must be:

• It has to be one word, not an entire soliloquy of vowels
• She has to be able to say it again
• It has to have a connection to something - an action, object anything.
  

The last, but not least tidbit.... She crawled this weekend. We stopped by Grandma and Grandpa's house and she decided it was time to bust a move. Not far mind you, just enough to get her toy and sit back down, but she really put one knee in front of the other and moved herself forward. Most of the time, she gets up on both feet and does a little tri-pod action with her head - but she really used her knees this time.

That's it...game over...we're doomed. Actually, our stuff is doomed, and the dog...the dog is doomed too. Let the baby proofing commence!

What a wonderful week of firsts. Nine months hit and they come fast and furious. When moments like this happen, I find that I am absolutely astounded by the whole process of learning and discovery. I watch her eyes and can see her putting it together then looking at us for confirmation and cheers. It is the most amazing thing I have ever seen. I also have noticed that Nathan and I still have that connection...we still know what the other one is thinking. We had a lot of "Holy crap - did she just do that?!?" moments this weekend, without having to say a word to each other.

And so it begins...she's crawling, standing, starting to talk...she's going forward, getting bigger and as she would say....she's moving "UP"!

for more pictures visit http://www.flickr.com/photos/theyspot/

How does your garden grow?...

This weekend was less than delightful for a variety of reasons:

First of all, there was the weather - it rained most of the weekend. There was some nice weather Saturday morning, but Sunday was a complete waste.

I missed my annual outing with the girls. Every year on the first weekend of June, my girlfriends and I go to the local art fair downtown. This year we had to pass because... I believe....they are on vacation together. I didn't' realize how much I look forward to this event. Not only is it a chance to hang out with my friends, it keeps me in touch with those creative impulses of mine that usually get repressed for more pressing everyday chores.

Our power went out on Sunday. Just as Nathan and I were going to settle in to a nice rented movie. Fortunately, my parents still had power, so I guess you could say that we went out to a movie this weekend.

The biggest reason this weekend was a drag for me...gardening. During the time I should have been spending looking at overpriced artwork and agreeing with my girls that "We could do that" I was instead on my hands and knees pulling weeds and planting flowers.

I HATE gardening.

I do it because I only have to plant flowers once a year and my yard looks really pretty for months. However, it is a day that I dread every year, here is why:

• Dirt - you don't get a little dirty when you garden, you get really really filthy. Dirty to the point where you itch all over and you don't know if its sweat, bugs or both. I hate being dirty.
  
• Bugs - I hate bugs. My neighbors must has been pointing and laughing because I screamed at least five times while I was out there (3 toads that startled me, one spider on my back and a tree branch I didn't see until I ran into it).
  
• Knees - my poor, poor knees. My flowers are in a raised bed surround by brick blocks. Looks nice in the yard, not indented into my knees.

It doesn't matter how much I stretch out prior, my body is sore for 3 days after gardening. Near the end of my flats of impatiens, I realized that I was talking myself through it like a marathon runner..... "Just a half flat left to go...you can do it!"

My mother gardens beautifully, my mother-in-law even more so. Her gardens are amazing, a true master gardener who obviously loves working in the soil. I look at people who love to garden with the same curiosity as people who love running.

Gardening...is obviously not genetic.

If Hailey is going to learn to love to plant, it is going to have to be taught by someone else than me. someone who doesn't scream every time a bee buzzes past or break out in hives at the thought of gardening gloves.