Footloose.

{My quest to covet.}

I am leaving on a jet plane tomorrow for my sis-in-law's wedding (yay!) and I still have to complete packing myself. I did such a great job packing the three youngsters. And I approached my bag with gusto, imagining one of thse magazine spreads "make 12 outfits with these 3 pieces" type of thing. Let me just tell you: shopping clearance racks has it's drawbacks. My wardrobe is a mish mash of random colors, off prints, and once-hit-wonders that can be worked in with some basic jeans and T's... but all together makes a butt ugly assortment.

So instead I just wasted a full hour trying to find a pair of shoes I want. Dying to want a pair. Any pair. I found none. I went to my go-to brands. Of which I am not even gonna mention now, because apparently all the shoes that were cool 8 years ago when I was cool... aren't cool anymore. They're all old lady shoes. And not the cool old lady shoes.

I find these old lady shoes to be quite charming.

I am AGAHST.  Seriously, the best I can hope for are some shimmery Toms?!

Okay, let me show you what I think is just not cool, and you can tell me why I'm wrong.

1.

 Okay, the chunky clunky heel. The grosgrain bow. I just don't get it.

2.

Janet Wood made these look good with her coolots and some nylons. But it's not happening for me.

3.

 1995 called and she wants her shoes back. And that sweater with the thumb holes.


4.

If Arsenio Hall were a shoe. This would be it. 


Maybe it's me. I mean, I know I've really had some doozies. So I know current trends may be a lady I know not.


Friends. Foes. Anyone. Please help me. I need to want some shoes. And I need it real bad.

Pox.

{It was normal for you and me. But my kids are freaks.}

Now we've gone and done it. Gotten Chicken Pox. Elliette and  Emmett are covered in magenta spots that range from Pixie Dots to Transformer Spots to being terribly painful and no longer getting cute names.

Let it be known we were hoping that they'd contract chicken pox naturally. We were not hoping to expose approximately 50 children and babies to it the day before the first pox showed up. gulp. Worst. Feeling. Ever.

But the actual duration of the chicken pox was not nearly as frightening as some may think. The worst was that there was 1 night of fever and pretty bad discomfort - both kids complained that their spots felt like they were popping - but some advil helped them sleep.

Elliette tried to hide her pox with a beard crocheted of yarn.

We feigned a Red Wings tailgate party for Emmett. (Is it even hockey season?)

The bad news is... Mark has them, too. No 33 year old wants Chicken Pox. It's painful for me to see how painful it is for him. Just so awful.

(photo unavailable)

And then... the baby. Baby Blue kind of looks like her feathers got plucked.

You know.. in a way, it was kind of fun. Now it's over, so looking back it's easy to see the silver lining. I had my babies with me, it was quiet, calm. We watched movies, did crafts, made books, read a lot, baked. There were very hard moments, but it was mostly just due to being quarantined. I never realized the shade of red chicken pox rates the terror scale.

There were times I felt like a leper. I am immensely thankful for the Jesus-style love some friends showed by being there for me.

1.

{My bluebird flew into our nest one year ago.  Happy Birthday!}

Wow. A year already.

Our third wonderful baby... beautiful, perfect, lovely and divine.

Happy first birthday, Esmé Blue!

Sister.

{You can choose your friends, but not your family. And, in some cases, you can't even choose your friends, but fate does it for you.}

There is a period of time from my childhood that I remember more vividly than I can remember last month. From about age 5 to maybe 8 or so - perhaps I've glorified these years, entombed them in my memory as my salad days. I look at Elliette, who's now 5, and think back to 5-year-old me, and can so clearly remember my big ideas, my plans, my home, and my friends.

At that age, I met Jami. She lived across the street with her two sisters and brother. She was shuffled over to my house at the tender age of 3 to knock on my door and ask if I wanted to play. Being an only child, I relished a chance to play with someone other than Maggie, the devoted Beagle.

We played that day, and many more days, many more years, and now, here we are. 28 years later.
Today is Jami's 31st birthday. We are very different, in lifestyle, appearance, geographic location, and probably a whole lot more than I even know. But, she is my sister. The woman nearer to my heart than any other, at least of those with whom I do not share DNA. Her family is my family. I treasure her mother, I adore her sister, and I think back so very often to her extended family, and those with whom I don't even keep in touch.

She was my constant. Through divorces, break-ups, moves, marriages and the turbulence of high school and the there-after, Jami was always there. She was always laughing and making me laugh.

Happy Birthday, Kitten Eyes.

Home.

We did it.

We bought our first house! So, I think that has become my de facto hobby... making this house our home.