Family Portrait

We have a family friend who is a very talented photographer. After visiting us this fall, she asked me to write a paragraph about each part of our family for a gift she was putting together for my in-laws. She compiled many beautiful quotes, my words, and several of our best shots in a book for them to enjoy when we're apart. I know my husbands parents were thrilled with the result! I thought I might save my contribution here, for a rainy day when I may need reminding how things looked to me in 2008.

Kuni and I

Married April 2005

At our wedding, we smashed, absolutely SMASHED cake into each others faces. And then we laughed. I think maybe we needed a bit of a release, maybe we were a bit overwhelmed by the beauty of the day. That tends to be our basic M.O. When things are starting to get too crazy, for whatever reason, we hang in there until one of us finds, or makes, something to laugh about. It’s what keeps us current, it’s something that makes us authentic, and it’s one of my favorite things about us.

Curly Sue

Born August 2006

A while ago, I took a moment to chat on the phone while our little whirlwind ate lunch. My conversation was soon interrupted by a tiny voice and two pudgy hands waving a mostly empty plate in the air and sweetly exclaiming, “Mommy, mommy! I need sa’more---I’m enjoying this!” All this was accompanied by a big, messy, grin. And in that moment, I experienced Curly in a nutshell: intelligent, articulate, gracious, and ever enthusiastic. Infectiously so, in fact.

Little Lou

Born August 2008

Our Lou is new, and lovely, and beautiful. And she has brought with her this comfortable, contented spirit. Her activities are basic: eat, sleep, smile, wiggle, etc. There is nothing remarkable about them except for her approach: so patient, so optimistic, so something akin to mature. In a word, she is fresh; a change of pace. And a perfect addition to our family rhythm that has made us something new all over again.

Ave Maria

I've been thinking of Mary lately. She seems new to me somehow, the last few years, especially this year. She's a bigger part of the story, a real character, a real player. She, the mother of the very Son of God. As I nurse the bug to sleep each night, I think of her on that first Christmas night, nestled in the dark warmth of the everyday basics that sheltered them. I think of the moment when my babies were born, and handed to me. That exquisite first cry that twice has unlocked secret and incredible reserves of love, patience, and gratitude within me. Then the time-stopping moment when each of my girls have looked at me with completely perfect confidence. I am their mother, together with their father I will teach and shelter them. Equip them appropriately to live their lives. They know this, and so I am given the ability to believe it as well. Those moments have crystallized in my memory, they have transformed from wispy impressions to a nearly tangible image. And with each of those moments, a new me began. As if each of my sweet ones gave life to me, instead of the other way around. Since becoming a mother, my heart and soul have expanded and risen like a balloon filled with hot air. And from this altitude, the vista has been something else. If this is true for me, how much more so for the woman whom Gabriel declared blessed among all? How she must have gloried in that baby, wondered at that child. How her heart must have broken as they nailed Him to the cross. And how infinitely she must have rejoiced at His return! The magnitude of her faith has become indescribable in my mind. As I celebrate this season, as we celebrate Jesus Christ, my heart, dear Mary, spills over with joy for you. Merry Christmas.

Glimpse

One daddy, one mommy, and two sweeties, somewhere between dinner and bed. The four of us sat together at our twice handed down table....which was, as usual, covered in a veritable hodge-podge of stuff. That table has been at least two shades of brown (and I plan to paint it once again this winter), carries the evidence of various generations of toddlers at play, and tonight, all strewn with the loosely controlled chaos of our life, it was the centerpiece of an impromptu dance party.
Somewhere in the middle of our motley assortment of fresh flowers, crayons, Christmas oranges, and dinner dishes, my hubby's laptop had claimed a spot. And for the moment, instead of merely housing an article about gingivoscopy it was pounding out music with all its might. Beat-heavy, smirk-inducing, neon-throwback, parachute pants music. MC Hammer's "Can't Touch This" to be exact. And the daddy, he was dancing. And the curly one, she was too. With reckless abandon. Dancing like one who has never known shame or shyness, like one who regularly laughs till she falls right over. And picking up the catch phrase faster than you would believe. And the baby, was eating. And smiling, and eating some more. And the mommy? She was laughing. Laughing and looking forward and backward at once. And loving the other three. Because they do so often make me laugh. Then jammies happened, and babies slept. Daddy went back to cramming and mommy folded her weight in clean laundry. And that was the happiness of today.

Twinkly

Lou Boo is waking up. She's coming out of her shell and announcing to the world that she is officially here and ready to play. She's at the semi-cuddly, koala bear stage where all she wants to do is get a good pudger hold on my chin while two clear blue eyes absorb everything about the universe as it exists over my shoulder. And then squeal. And grin and flail and squeal some more. But oh those gorgeous little eyes, they smile. They smile and twinkle and tell me that they have a secret, a hilarious secret that she's never going to quite give up. They sparkle with excitement when she is standing, marching, climbing on my stomach. Because that is a simply fabulous thing to do! And when she realizes those light and magical sounds that ring through our house came from her little own self, those eyes glitter for all the world. But most of all they gleam when she is eating. In ecstasy, she pauses to let her strawberry lips lift those chubby cheeks into a cheshire grin. A very charming, sorta milky little smile. And her eyes joyfully whisper that she has discovered the secret to life: love and be loved, enjoy and be enjoyed. The feeding resumes but the eyes still shine. And I am quite content. Miss Baby....

Golden

Today we played in the leaves. An absolutely glorious sea of golden leaves that three majestic trees dumped there just for us. Those trees live in this little nook on the apartment complex property that Anne Shirley would have named something utterly whimsical because it is a hidden spacial treasure, walled in by fences on three sides and, on the fourth, both guarded and gated by a wall of trees that provide access through a small arching window in the brush. It has been our sanctuary this summer, will give us virgin snow to play in this winter, and I anticipate a pink fairyland this coming spring. But today it gave us an ocean of fallen leaves to crunch.
And crunch them we did: chuuh, chuuh, chuh. We practically waded through them! Curly Sue gathered a hat full, with delicate brown veins so perfect they might have been printed on weathered cardstock. Little Lou full asleep on my shoulder soaking in the honey mellow autumn light. Then I watched my bearded hubby splash through the leaves toward home with a toddler on his shoulders, waving orange maple flags. And once again, I was happy.

Flowers and stars

I still have a shirt that was a hand-me-down from my cousin way back in the fourth grade. It's a cream and blue henley with a very dainty little flower/star pattern that in my mind will never be out of style. I still wear it now and again, and I wore it today. And after today I think I'll wear it a little more often because every time I do it will remind me of what happened this afternoon as I put Curly Sue down for a nap.
We had just finished our book and were talking about the girl and the cat and the party in our story when suddenly her little eyes stared so importantly up into mine and she said: "Flowers and stars."
Huh? There are no flower or stars in that book. But again she said: "Flowers and stars. Yots of them....see, mommy? one star two stars, tree stars......blue flower, blue flower, blue flower---pink flower just for me!"
Her little mind had soaked in the tiny detail of my shirt. And she found it worth wondering at, talking about, and to tell the truth, improving (because the sad fact is, there are no pink flowers on this shirt....as of yet). It reminded of me of how the world became brand new when we had her. Colors, sounds, textures, concepts, the most mundane and basic details became refreshing, exciting and fascinating because she finds them so. And also, I suppose, because in truth they really are. It's the small things that make the big things, the sand that makes the beach. In my heart I always knew it but I needed a child to remind me. So we together we celebrated flowers and stars and blue and pink. Then I tucked her in and kissed her cheek. She was falling asleep, and I had fallen in love with her all over again.

Apple Snack

I think we have a new favorite snack: Apples, smeared with peanut butter and dipped in sprinkles. Three bowls, each sitting on its own square of tile. Curly Sue and I sat on the kitchen floor and munched our snack during Lou's morning nap. And talked about "our" dragons. Her's is pink, of course. And mine is purple. My dragon, as you might have guessed, is her dragon's mama. And tomorrow we're going to ride them high in the sky---whoosh. And eat more "apple snack.....with 'prinkgos". I could have sat there with our heels crossed and our backs against the white cabinets, talking about dragons all day long.