I crave Snickers.

I crave Honey Nut Cheerios.

I crave chai.

I crave chocolate.

Hello, my name is Mary, and I’m a sugar addict.

One day at a time, sweet Jesus. Just one, please.

But on to the freckles part. I love them because, well, in my well-educated mind, freckles happen when angels sneak in and kiss your face. Or perhaps, wherever it is that you might have them, because your particular angel might be a naughty one.

Just sayin’.

Exhibit A.

Sweet Aunt Myrtle – that is a FINE example of a busy angel.

Good stinkin’ grief I love freckles.

Exhibit B.

That’ll make your Mother’s Day a happy one.

Someone got a huge case of the giggles.

And repeat there started dancing a crazy jig.

I swear, we were very loud Americans on Sunday. 

How can you keep your laughing on the down low when folks like these are at your table?

Mother’s Day this year was happily punctuated with an impromptu brunch/lunch with our neighbors, and we took the trip to the original Oskar Blues in Lyons. Ironically, I did not get one single photo of the mothers…

But it didn’t make it any less than perfect.

And guess who, after about a year, picked up his very own Reeb single speed that has been mightily pimped out? (Can I say “pimped out” in a  ”Mother’s Day” post? Is that allowed?)

I actually thought this bike was way cooler, but what do I do know?

I still think freckles come from angels.

And I’m totally right.

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It was one of the best decisions we’ve ever made as parents and we’ve been high-fiving each other ever since.

Fast forward to this past weekend, and I’ve officially been “Merkeled”, a term, I’m sure, used only for the most worthy of us who have had the insane pleasure of spending time with this whole family.

Meet the two who started this whole business.

They have four groovy boys.

And those boys met four incredible women (two of the brothers, in fact, were pretty savvy about marrying two sisters – exponentially increasing the f.u.n. is this family!).

And now, the first grand baby.

Omaword. She had me wrapped in about two seconds flat.

Every girl needs her faithful audience.

Two. Whole. Seconds. I tell you. 

But you know what? There’s another one on the way who’s already getting kisses from Aunt Kelly.

I cannot wait to meet that little dude.

Love you guys!

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Gary and Karen celebrated their 20-year wedding anniversary recently, and they invited me up to Tahaara Lodge in Estes Park for an afternoon. The drive up to Estes is one of my most favorite drives in Colorado, and on this afternoon in particular, this state we call home showed its spring beauty in every ounce of glory possible, right down to snow showers.

It was jaw dropping. 

But it paled in comparison to being folded up in this intimate space with Gary and Karen for a little while. Take a look.

Just love you two! Congrats on twenty years. May we all be so blessed!

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Because you know what?

When you look at your life, the greatest happinesses are family happinesses.

.Joyce Brothers.

Yep.

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So today, this beautiful, perfect May day, I put the little guy down for an overdue nap, poured a cup of coffee, and slipped outside to sit on our front porch. There was a pretty constant pull of, “But I should be doing this instead,” but do you know what happened? I took slow, deep breaths. I watched two robins play in our front yard while Todd Helton the Cat twitched and chattered next to me. I listened to the new leaves on our aspen trees rustle. And I took off my jacket, leaned back a little, and settled into that sweet spot of spring with my happy butt sitting on cool concrete and my skin warming up under the afternoon sun. 

I haven’t pressed myself into that place in a while. We’ve been going at insane speed. 

As i thought about it, I realized very clearly that our boys try to show me that place every day. As they’ve peppered us with questions such as, “Is the moon flying,” we’ve been firing back “Just a minute” and “Can we talk about it later?” 

Well. That just won’t do.

My scouting assistant and I checked out a new spot for photo shoots this week. What I thought would be a quick look-see turned into adventure.

He saw a sign with a drawing of a snake on it (to show snake habitats), and the search was on.

We searched high and low for them.

That was a suspicious spot, there.

I thought we’d found one for sure, but no. At this point, he had worked himself up into a bit of a frenzy and told me that we should hold hands and walk together. 

We found ourselves in a very different place within minutes, and there were ants and bugs and nooks and crannies. 

I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever convince him to leave.

Children have an amazing way of reminding us that there is something awesome around every corner. Whenever I feel doubt about that, or anxious or lost in wondering, he says things like, “It sure is a beautiful day!”

We ended up walking a little over two miles that day, not really meaning to, and only because we couldn’t resist the next corner.

The world is a curious place, indeed.

Isn’t it amazing that so much of what we’re looking for is right there, so close to us, if we’d just take long, slow breaths and invite it in?

I took some time out for life.

James L. Brooks

Have you, lately?

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Confusing? (Aside from being awkwardly worded – sheesh.)

Yep.

Example: one of our neighbors was dubbed “Shawn-Shane” because I couldn’t remember if his name was “Sean” or “Shane”. Hank hated me for it, because then he couldn’t remember either. Lucky for us, his last name has a well-remembered meaning for us, so after an initial few months of that business, we reassigned his name to his true one. Yay team.

For our children? Holden renamed our friend, Ryan, “Danny-Ryan”, and Ewan renamed Danny-Ryan’s daughter, Emarie, “Henry”. So now we all have. Adam Levine is now “Adam Labean”, and this year’s Lego Fest?

You got it.

Lego Pest.

We were so excited to go to Lego Pest.

Spoiler alert: Hi, remember me? The girl who can’t seem to understand white balance intricacies inside a weirdly lit place? Welcome to wonky colors and weird shadows.

But also, welcome to one of the coolest places on the planet.

All of the figures are made entirely of Legos. Wowza.

Probably by guys like this one.

Why ‘ello, ‘arry. (Please use your best cockney, there, thank you.)

I might have a special fascination with the Star Wars guys.

Yet sadly, no Yoda there was.

And I have no idea how they made Legos sexy, but here you go. Batman? Hubba hubba.

Then there was this. Holy. Schmoly.

It was an entire field of Legos that you walked on (something I try to seriously avoid at home because it really, really hurts and always makes me say bad words), found a spot, sat down, and started building.

It was absolutely insane. I had the weirdest indentations on my butt and knees (yes, I know this because I went into the restroom for the sole purpose of checking myself out), and I am quite certain that the smaller Legos somehow found themselves into the weird place where my jeans cuff at the back of my feet because they drag the floor a little bit AND into my kids’  underwear, just like the sand at the park. We’ll be finding those tiny bricks for days.

At one point, the man sitting next to me shifted over a little, and suddenly I rode a tiny avalanche of Legos down nearly into his lap, at which point I exclaimed a little too loudly, “Dude! You gotta warn a person before you move suddenly in here!”

He laughed. And then got a little embarrassed. And then so did I and it was awkward and I had to float on my back like I was in quicksand just to get out.

I even lost a flip flop in there.

It taught me a couple of things about my boys, though. I sort of already knew this stuff, but I hadn’t seen it as clearly until today. Our smallest one looks at chaos, then finds a comfy spot within it and settles in for the fun he finds there.

Our bigger one jumps into chaos with both feet, then realizes he’s in and wants out, claiming boredom, aka seeking freedom.

Dude just needs a chance to catch his breath.

It was cool to watch.

Also cool to watch… the last Lego adventure of the day.

Ninjago battles.

I didn’t even know of such a thing.

But we left with one of those battle stadiums, because some Lego Master dropped by our battle arena to give the boys two Ninjago battling skeleton thingies of their very own.

And one last thing?

Brilliant.

Hope your Sunday was a Funday.

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It’s utterly breathtaking, but in a good way.

I’m really excited to notice the hand of God at work. I get these insane little nudges of, “I love you like crazy” and “I really am here.”

Never thought I’d say that again. Still trying it on. 

It’s brought me into a more aware place of listening. I’ve been just half-listening lately; probably more honest to say would be quarter-listening. I hear myself say, “Ok,” to something that the boys have said and then freak out because I’m not quite sure what I’ve just agreed to. What a swift kick in the can that is. 

What I have fully listened to, however, is one sweet request from our 3yo. He loves Adam Labean, aka Adam Levine, and begged for a rockstar haircut. 

I totally obliged.

We had just a small wait, just enough to test out all of the chairs and talk about a short Adam Labean haircut or the slightly longer-on-top version.

And also time to singlehandedly build up enough electricity on those jazzy track pants to collect all of the spare hair previously trapped on the carpet. 

Yes you can say, “Ew, Gross.”

I did.

After incessant questions of, “Is it my turn?!” in a too-loud whisper, it finally was.

He was scooped into a chair and draped with a couple of capes.

And then he was all business.

We finally coaxed some of the personality back out.

And then he just turned on the goofy. 

The big finale, other than a nice slather of pomade and a well-timed flirt from the girl cutting his hair, was a strawberry shortcake flavored sucker. Scored huge.

Adam Labean, eat your heart out.

xo. xo.

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Which brings me to some news. We are moving. Our five-year-plan whittled down to an 18-month one, which was pared further to “sometime soon” and then shot in ludicrous speed straight to “we’re listing our home in 10 days,” which was done six days ago. And where shall we go? Right here in this town that we adore, just in a different spot of it.

But more on that later.

This evening’s post holds something else that we adore, which is our boy.

He is in a new league this year, one that uses machine pitch and keeps score. Hallelujah.

Every now and again I see a jock swagger out of him. My belly does that funny lurching thing as I imagine him at 16 but then quickly revert back to six.

I like six.

Six means that you can still bob your head from shoulder to shoulder when you run, for the simple reason of it just feels funny.

Six is smacking the crap out of the ball and running like a maniac, just praying to get to first base without being hit by the ball.

But six does not yet mean that you can steal first.

There are still the occasional acrobatic leaps and such.

I will always love them.

Six is not very far away from four and five, during which seasons held lots of sand digging. There’s still a pretty hefty fascination with the stuff, but now in the form of kicking up dust clouds.

Fielding is more successful at six.

And the helmets fit better. Six means you look a little less like Darth Vader and a little more like a baseball player.

And everyone still says a happy, “Good game.”

Hank happily reminded me that around age 12 I’ll probably be writing about the wrestling matches that happen when they say, “You suck” instead.

Oy.

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I think that it’s its own kind of magic.

Especially when there are cousins and, well, Kentucky Fried Chicken involved.

And marbles. Gram is actually Dr. Gram, keeper of extremely fun games and teacher of TAG kids. Her house is an insane treasure of quirky games and things to build.

And some fun companions.

She just watches and gives hints only when necessary. It’s pure awesomeness.

Know what else she gives?

Her whole heart. Every bit.

Grandma always made you feel she had been waiting to see just you all day and now the day was complete.

.Marcy DeMaree.

 

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You look at your kids (or your pets, or your main squeeze) and you just know. You know that it’s time for some nothingness.

Our latest nothingness took on us a quiet walk to the end of the road.

Then we turned right.

It was perfect. Just enough breeze to hug you with warmth and just enough quiet to hear everything. The everything that you can only hear in the nothingness.

It’s here that the leaves rustle. The birds sing. The bugs create a cacophony of highs and lows in an incredible chorus that the greatest symphony could not rival.

And you breathe.

You laugh.

You start with a giggle that goes into a good belly laugh that feels nothing short of perfect.

And that sound is right at home here, in the nothingness. It’s a sound it’s been longing to hear, and it makes it complete.

There is discovery here.

And contemplation.

Then there’s the primordial rhythm of it all. The point where your heartbeat mimics and echoes back your footsteps into hidden paths nestled deep within brush and new trees and what ifs.

I love talking about nothing. It is the only thing I know anything about.

.Oscar Wilde.

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