Out of the mouth of Hope.

Last night Hope and I went to the grocery store.

Alone.

It was a big deal to her. She got to move up a row in the van to sit closer to me. We chatted, she requested her current favorite, "Adventures in Odyssey."

We were having a fabulous psuedo-date (You know, the ones where you get to spend time together and still accomplish something mundane yet necessary.) until I parked the car.

I half listened as she rambled.

"Mom, (uh-huh), we can't eat your grocery list. That's gross."

"That's right, honey. Give me a second, okay?" I gathered up my grocery list, coupons, purse grab her hand and we get out and walk towards the store.

"Mom, (yes, Hope), we can't eat cars. That's gross."

"You're right. We don't eat things that aren't food." At this point I should probably mention we are shopping at the dreaded dinner hour. The store was packed; tons of people were coming and going. I should also mention, I'm married to a tall, strong man. It takes a lot of tall to make me notice.

But there was a man walking out of the store tall and big enough to make me notice, just as Hope started in again, looking at the said man.

"Mom, (yes), we don't eat people. That's just gross."

I've rarely seen a man so big that scared of a child so small.

Sometimes

 

I feel like

I have two sets

of twins

separated by a few years.

I know this is blurry, but I love the big brother protector thing going on here!

Anyone else see the same thing?

Lucky 13

Thirteen years ago a friend of mine introduced me to a friend of his at the Indiana state fair.

Little did I know what the next thirteen years would bring. Last night we went to the fair for the first time since Becca was a baby. It was a fun full few hours.

Checking out the exhibits. And celebrating accomplishments.

Waiting in forever long food lines.

Checking out the baby animals.

Some that share we share a name with.

Stuffing our faces with ice cream and other fair food.

By far, though, the kids loved the "Little Hands on the Farm" exhibit best. They worked their way through a farm set up and sold their fruit, veggies, milk and wool at the end to buy a snack from the farm market. Bree took it all in from her stroller.

It's been a fun thirteen years.

One Year Pictures

It has been horribly hot this summer. When my friend/mentor/my kid's church grandma invited us up to swim there was no way I was going to turn her down. Couple that with their gorgeous landscaping and I decided to finally get off my lazy behind and take Bree's one year pictures. After all she is almost fourteen months now.

Oh, the joys of white balance. This one was *obviously* set wrong. But with a HUGE amount of editing it almost passes. I just love her expression in this one. Ty did a great job getting her to smile.

Melt my heart! Is there anything more to say about this sweet pose she struck. The girl's got talent... or something. Maybe I should hold off on any modeling talk until her daddy has gotten used to Hope's new haircut. ;)

Always on the move! She keeps me hopping...especially when I'm shooting with a 50mm. Sometimes I think I'd give my right arm for a fast zoom lens. I'm learning so much shooting with this lens. Anyone have any tips, lenses for Canons that you love and want to share about?

Grandma "I" and Breeley. Love this!

She so did not get her long legs from her short mama. 

Rockin' the snorkel.

She loves her big brother!

Thanks, "I", for letting us come swim and take pictures! We love you!!!

A Very Sad Mix

It's a little thing. Really it is. At least that's what I keep saying to myself.  But, that I'm sad cannot be denied. For some reason as a mommy it's the little things that sometimes feel so very big.
It was a rather slow day in our house. I was sick and sleeping. Doug was recovering and watching the kids. My birthday had just past and unbeknown to me, our two oldest had been making birthday cards in the room Becca and Hope share. They had not cleaned up one very important item.  Enter exhibit A.

There are certain things in life that just should not mix. The pair of scissors and my preschooler's nap time for one. Especially on days when the girl doesn't feel like napping. And even more certainly on the days that she has had it with her little sister pulling her hair. Hope came to me before nap time to say, "Mommy, I want my hair little. I don't like it being big (long) anymore." I had just measured her ponytail to find out if it was eligible for Locks of Love. It was! I was so excited that even though she didn't want her hair anymore, someone would get some use out of my daughters 11 inches of blond hair. Instead of a fun mommy and daughter trip to the hair salon there was this.

And the walk of shame into W*lmart - the only place open at that time of day to get her hair cut.
(As a complete rant, they stylist comment was "What do you want me to do with it?" Seriously?)

And now my daughter sports this haircut.

 Spunky and sassy, and much to her daddy's chagrin a little like V*ctoria B*ckhams. 

Spunky and sassy and much to grown up for my little girl.  One day I'll laugh....