Little cups

She so innocently asks,

"Daddy, why are you drinking out of little cups?"

Happy Day, friends.

The Spirit of Christmas...Memory #86 and #87

There have been a number of things that have brought a lump of joy to my throat in recent years regarding the children...Growing older, visits with family, and dance recitals, to name a few.

This past weekend, it happened again.

Conor, I don't know if it was how your face lit up when you saw him in person, how you yelled "Dat Dat" in excitement, or just the sweet way you reached for his hand, but I will always remember this year as the Christmas you met Santa.

And sweet Kate...this was the year you made your first Gingerbread House.

It's as sweet and beautiful as you are!

Family Tree Farm

For years following Thankgiving, I have spent hours constructing an artificial tree to kick off Christmas. The kids have been impressed with my efforts, but it was nothing compared to the experience we shared last year when choosing and cutting our very own family tree for the first time. So, one week ago today, we loaded the turkey-filled kids and drove to continue in the new holiday tradition.

There are many things I appreciate about living in South Central, Pennsylvania, and this is one of them. Local growers who make holidays and field trips special.

True to his character, Conor immediately headed for the food, grabbing an apple to take along for the ride.

It was such an enjoyable wagon ride. We pointed out all the different types of Christmas trees from Douglas Firs, White Pines, Blue Spruce, and Concolor Firs, and finally...our choice, the Frasier Fir. All Conor could say was, "WOW!" He said it when he saw the tractor, the apples, the wagon, and the trees. He was clearly impressed. With this kind of a view, it is hard not to be.

The kids paced the rows upon rows of trees until they found the perfect one, and then declared, "This one, Daddy!"

At their instruction, Joe began to cut. And, after the tree had fallen, they celebrated!

We loaded the tree, roping, greens and berries, and then stopped for one last family picture before heading home. It was a wonderful day, more special with every year that passes.

I realized one thing while collecting this memory, these folks are a lot more than the local growers I referenced above. They are true to their name...they are family.

Let the holidays begin!

Giving thanks

On this Thanksgiving Day, we are thankful for so many things...a wonderful family, treasured friends, and two incredible kids...to name a few.

I know as the years pass, I will not be able to keep all the adorable construction, string, and popcicle stick art that comes home weekly. But, I never want to forget how truly beautiful they were, or the pride you felt when hanging them for display.

So, with that said, this year I will smile and remember all the things you were thankful for!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Four going on Fourteen

Silence is so rare in this house, you notice it when it happens.

So, I went searching...and found this.

Nail polish opened on the back of the toilet. Toes lined up at attention on the side of the vanity.

In just seconds, our future flashed before my eyes.

I have no idea where she gets it from.

West Coast is the Best Coast

I am sure I am going to field a bit of argument from my dear East coast friends and family, but I am saying it anyway...the West Coast is the Best Coast.

When I loaded my car and headed West over ten years ago, it was this sunset I was chasing.

And, it was on this beach where I was sun bathing alone that I met Joe for the first time. The water was just as bitter cold under my feet as I remember.

And, here, at Petco Park, Home of the Padres, where we left a little piece of us behind.

It was a dozen or so wonderful friends who quickly made an unfamiliar place feel like home. Watching one of them exchange his wedding vows this weekend was a beautiful thing, and seeing he and his wife together will always make me smile.

There is something special about this place. Even ten years later, after many of us are married with children, nothing has seemed to change. The location is just as special, and the people just as dear.

I may be a girl with roots in Texas, but a piece of my heart will always be in San Diego.

Everyone needs an Uncle Brad

I stood in the driveway watching them. Smiling. Conor grabbed the football and went running.

His elbows twisted across his body left and right until finally he was tackled to the ground...letting out a shriek of delight. Then, came a deep breath and a word only I could understand, "Rad!"

Then, it was Katie's turn. She strapped on her plastic skates over her sneakers, grabbed his hands, and closed her eyes as he began running backwards. Her feet unbalanced beneath her flew between his legs, and were stopped only by the grasp of his hands. She then let her body drop to the ground giggling. "Do it again, Uncle Brad!"

He calls her Gracie. And, after she was born, he gifted her with these.

His name is Con Con. And for Christmas, he was gifted with a bag full of Whoopie cushions and wax teeth.

It is a loving, admirable relationship. They want to sit next to him. They want to watch shows with him. They want to sleep in the same bed with him. In a compromise, we lined up little Kate's sleeping bed on the floor beside his bed, and she woke up smiling!

Then, on Halloween, they paraded him around the neighborhood, catching a lift every chance they could get. I don't believe he ever walked empty handed.

My brother has always meant the world to me, but seeing him through the eyes of our children is a whole different kind of special. It's pretty awesome.