My oldest loves all things party-worthy.  Holidays, birthdays, reunions.  And I love the way she folds her brother and sister into all the excitement.  As soon as we flipped the page to February she started what I can only call a Valentine Workshop upstairs in the bonus room.  She’s made daily trips upstairs to work faithfully on little surprises for everyone in the family.

I can honestly say I take more pleasure in finding extraordinary in the ordinary days, but the kids love the hubbub of a good old fashioned holiday.  So James and I obliged this year…with our own little homemade valentines:

They returned the favor with their versions (“I love you <— this much —>”) :

I turned to a favorite verse for decoration (using kid-friendly verbiage to drive the points home):

I absolutely heart when these things pop up around the house unprompted:

It’s been a sweet day…and we have more to come!  The oldest still hasn’t put on the “family party” yet!

Happy Valentines Day from our house to yours…xo

(Valentine Topper via Yvonne Byatts Family Fun blog)

We miss you guys.  Sniffle.

This is such a sweet, precious age.

We had to get this image while he was still small enough – since we’ve done it a couple of times before.

There were so many things I wish I could have said or done.  I would give anything to have just one item on that list.

And now here I am with my Nana and Grandpa’s health failing right in front of me.  It all started sort of suddenly with a single fall, and since then has been slow and painful.  At this moment Grandpa is suffering from pneumonia, and can’t help himself cough because of broken bones.  There will be no heroic measures this time.  So we are waiting hopefully, but are aware that this…well…we’re aware.  He might be aware, too.

I know he knows how much I love him.  I’ve done my best to remind him over the last couple of years.  But it’s breaking my heart that I can’t be there right now.  He is in an ICU unit, but the nurse let me talk to him on speaker.  He couldn’t really talk, but I reminded him just how predictable he is.  I already knew everything he would say if he could.

Last night I got an idea.  Everyone else was debating and posturing and cheering and booing during the Presidential Debate.  Me?  I was in the bathtub with my violin.  Looking dissheveled because our A/C is out and we had 85% humidity.  Missing an earring (this is a violin habit – too silly to explain).  A decade or so out of practice.  But I knew my Grandpa could care less how squeaky or out of tune I was or how many notes I missed.

This video is for him, but I’m sharing it with you.  In the past I’ve been grateful I shared; I’m wondering if this could spark an idea for any of you living long distance from a loved one.

I hit every limb on the Ugly Tree with this piece.  Whatever.  I recorded it with my phone, sent it to my mom, and she was able to play it for him on her Ipad this morning.  He loved it.

***I should mention that I picked Humoresque for a reason.  Everyone always loved playing it in Suzuki recitals.  But I remember my teacher once describing the different parts to it as something along the lines of a sunny day, peaceful day, storm, and then light on the other side.  This seemed fitting.

And for good measure, I went ahead and recorded something even shorter.  In case his attention span was short.  In case it was easier to download.  In case…I don’t know.  I’m a little type A.  I have backup plans for everything.  So I also sent a couple of silly Irish jigs.  Equally squeaky and out of tune.  So I’ll spare you.

I’m glad she’s not afraid.  I really am.  There have been times in the past couple of years that she’s struggled with worry.  Biting her nails, asking me a ton of “what ifs.”  And I suppose there will still be those days.  But today – her first day of the school year - she was just plain excited.  So excited, in fact, that she almost flew out the door.  I mean, I had my camera ready and this was all I could catch.  She was that fast.  I almost couldn’t believe it.  I guess I had expected her to cling to me, just a little.

I grabbed my camera thinking, “I’ll catch her walking up the drive to school.”

That small figure to the right – that’s Evyn, charging confidently up the walkway, nearly breaking into a run.  I almost didn’t get a snapshot.  She had scooted away just as quickly as her flight from the car.  After an entire summer of days waking up with her and seeing her through the entire day start to finish, there it was: 8:00 a.m.  An empty seat in the kiddo-wagon.

I wanted to sit there and pause to catch my breath.  But carpool lanes don’t work like that.  So I cried all the way home.

You would think I was sending her to college, not the first day of second grade.  Second grade – not even technically a milestone of any sort.  Which might be what made it harder.  To see into the future a bit and realize that it’s going to keep going on like this, pomp and circumstance or not  – they are going to keep getting older and I might never get used to it.  I’ll be proud.  I’ll be grateful.  But letting go, little by little, will always come with a bit of heartbreak.

I couldn’t wait to pick her up later that day, find out how her day went.  Clearly I was more invested in this whole moment than she was because most answers to my questions were met with a quizzical look and “I don’t know, Mom.  It’s only my first day.”  And there it was.  A reminder that this is just one day.  And if I spend too many moments being sad about the twenty hundred days from now, I might completely miss the fun of the Meantime.

So I’m going to take deep breaths and make the Meantime count.

Not too long ago I invited a photographer to come stay with my family for a couple of days.  Basically, to follow me around and photo journal a typical weekend with my family.  I had asked a couple of families some years ago if they had ever considered doing it, hoping they would let me tag along to photograph their daily-ness.  I mostly got strange looks.  Regardless, I thought it was important for MY failing memory to have such images – images to remind me of the way we were.  And I was SO blessed beyond measure by those images.  So much so that I crossed my fingers that someone would hire me to do the same for them.

Bingo.  Just days after my own session, I got the chance to meet and work with someone who had followed my personal blog.  Another one of those the internet-turned-real-life opportunities.  Interestingly, this was something she was looking for.  Casual but pointed pictures of an evening with her family of three (plus pup).

And again one of those times I get to meet an uber-cool couple.  At times I had to remember I was the photographer, not the guest for dinner.  Because they were that fun.

Thank you, Elizabeth, for the chance to meet you and photograph all those giggles.  I know these will be a treat to flip through some important day down the road. 

For some reason I have recently been lucky enough to meet a couple of people who know me not through photography first, but through my writing at my former internet home – My Longest Year.   Margot is a fellow blogger and military wife who was sweet enough to comment and check in on me and my blog fairly regularly.  When she said she would be visiting her sister nearby I jumped at the chance to get to meet her and work with her family.  And what a fun and photogenic bunch they turned out to be!  (Margot, please tell your sister she has no right looking so cute in a dress just a few weeks after giving birth.)

Thank you for reaching out, Margot!  Next time you’re in North Carolina, we’ll make it a Starbucks date for sure.

This is Erin.  A friend I worked with and lived around the corner from for three years when James was stationed at Fort Drum, New York over 10 years ago.  Erin is loyal.  Faithful.  Naive sometimes.  I love her for all of that.  When James was deployed to Iraq the first time, we had no clue what lie ahead of us.  J was a Chemical Officer – an expertise that the Army was short on at the time – and we were facing what was called a chemical threat.  The night of the first bombings, I sat on my couch and cried.  Erin called me within minutes.  She invited me over to dinner and kept an open-door policy for the entire time he was gone.  She was there to guard and defend me when working in a TV station, surrounded by  the first-ever televised war, was getting to me.  She was there for so many things.

Some time after James came back I went through some weird major depression, completely unrelated to the war or any other reasonable explanation.  I got to a point where my anxiety attacks were so frequent and debilitating that one morning I was unable to get dressed after an hour of trying.  She was there in ten minutes and she was there for me any time I needed to talk the whole thing through.  Years later when we were stationed in Washington, and James had left for Iraq a second time, she flew - across the country - to visit me.  She said it was the least she could do.  I don’t know about that…I don’t think everyone is lucky enough to have friends who go to such lengths.  I wonder if I would.

I have been lucky – no, BLESSED beyond measure – to have such friends in my life.  Friends who are loyal, faithful, who understand my quirks and love me anyway.  I am fiercely protective of my close friends.  Maybe it’s the “sister” in me that knows to appreciate and care for a great girlfriend.  I count all of these friends as a sister of sorts.

It’s been ten years and six kids between us.  Recently Erin and I got to meet up on her way to the beach.  Here are a couple of crappy iPhone pics of us doing the White Girl Duckface:

She asked me to bring my camera when I drove up to the beach to see her.  I wanted to do something for her that says “Thank you for who you are.  I’m so happy for  you and the family you’ve created.”

Erin – much love to you and your family.  Thanks for your friendship.  XO, Crystal.

So I found it.  Something my two-year-old can help me “cook.”  It only takes a tall stool and a few minutes, so it’s perfect for him.  (and in case it’s not obvious, these are courtesy my Iphone)

First, I let him stir the naked noodles.  (yes, my counter always looks that organized)

And squeeeeeze the gooey cheese product.  (we aim for “healthy” but settle for “easy” sometimes)

And stir again.  And it was at this point that I had to keep him from eating straight from the serving bowl and move him on to helping get the plates (conveniently located where anyone over a foot tall can reach – in a lower cupboard.  I’m one part Intentional Parent and one part Lazy Parent).

Sidenote: this is Cam being “resourceful” and “independent” instead of asking for a snack.  They’re supposed to ask permission.  But I think they prefer to beg forgiveness.  And because it’s kind of adorable, sometimes it works.