lunch break

...our little brit

...something happened for the first time today. We were standing in line at Starbucks and the woman behind us was asking Charlie questions ("Are you the big brother?" "How old are you?") He answered. "I da big broder. I Chaleee. I four." I hadn't said anything to the woman and she said to me, "Are you British? Does he have an accent?"

I smiled. I have heard from parents of kids who have apraxia (Charlie has not been definitively diagnosed with apraxia but has behavior very similar to it) that once their kids start talking it is with a distinct British accent. I explained to the woman that, no, we were not British, but that Charlie had an oral-motor issue. She backtracked, embarrassed that she had said anything at all. I told her not to apologize. Little did she know that I was so happy that Charlie was speaking in a language she could understand, whether it be Old English or new English.

Ironically this morning I had just captured Charlie talking in his British accent. He was correcting Clara who kept saying that Charmer's picture on the wall was Maddie. "No, Chamer," he said. It was the first time I had heard him say the "m" in "Charmer."

Please excuse me saying, "Good girl," to my son. It was early. And those are raisins, not bunny poop. You know, just in case you were worried.

...chi town

...Clara and I spent the weekend in Chicago visiting Carron (who sadly no longer has a blog I can link to) and her family.

In continuing my random-celebrity-airport-sightings, I present you members of the DC United team:

(I did not even realize they were DC United until Carron told me. I just said, "There are some really hot soccer players at baggage claim.") Just now, I went through the entire roster and didn't recognize any of the guys we are pictured with, so I very may well have asked the water boys to come in tight for a snapshot. I'm already embarrassing Clara.

Clara and Ellie, Carron's little girl, are just a few months apart.

Hmm, three guesses at who thought she was older and therefore wiser?

In the meantime, Charlie was back in Maryland "winning" his first-ever trophy. It's already been super-glued once.

By our second day in Chicago, Clara was calling the dog Maddie, the little boy Charlie, and Carron's husband, "Daddy." She is going through this phase where any man is daddy. Which is fine, until tonight when we were out getting ice cream after dinner and a teenage boy walked in to the relatively quiet ice cream shop. "Daddddddy!" she screamed. I guess she's just getting back at me for making her pose with the DC United water boys.

On the day before we left, she started acting a little funny. She hadn't been sleeping so I attributed it to that, until she went all "Linda Blair" (as Carron called it) and decorated Carron's floor, my jeans, and the bathtub with, well, vomit.

Turns out the little babe has a bad double ear infection and is most likely heading to tube surgery like her big brother.

It was a great visit. Too short, of course, and it left me wishing Carron was just a quick walk down the street instead of a plane ride away. There are only a few friends in the world willing to clean up your child's Linda Blaire-esque moments. She's one of them, and that makes her a keeper.

...big tour of the little house - the playroom

We originally planned for the kid's playroom to be the bonus room upstairs over the garage. Ken's office would be the room formerly known as the dining room which we had closed off with frosted french doors. Then we had an epiphany that our kids were not even three and one when we were moving in and a playroom upstairs wasn't feasible for probably a few years, so Ken's office and the playroom got swapped (he definitely got the better part of THAT deal).

...full disclosure: this room is never, ever, ever, ever, not ever this clean.

I would like to say that this contains the toys, but the reality is that most days it's like a gigantic toy storage room that the kids go and pick what they want and then bring it out to the rest of the house.

Rug is from Charlie's old room (from PB Teen), bookshelf and baskets are IKEA. Train table is PB Kids. Wall frames are mostly IKEA.

And that's that. I promise, there are only two rooms left.

...hello!

Charlie and I on his field trip to a marina today. Finding that, "Show me your smile," is much more effective than, "Cheese" these days.

Here to share my Roundabout Studio Calico layouts:

...today is one of those days when you hope there's a heaven

...because it gained another golden girl.

Our family said goodbye to Logan, Logie, beloved dog of my aunt Debbie and cousin Devin, last night.

She has a gang of family goldens waiting for her.

Her sister, Mercy.

Kelly, her predecessor.

Tilly, my aunt Barbara and uncle David's golden (and the golden before her, Bella, who started our family's love of all things furry and gold, I believe, but I don't have a picture of).

Shae, also Barbara and David's.

And, of course, le Charmer.

Rest in peace, sweet Logan.

...this, that and oklahoma

...someone got their first bike last weekend.

Watching him take off has been incredible. He literally rode it out of the store.

(And yes, those are the world's biggest training wheels, but we have a tremendously long gravel driveway and that bike can't even think about wobbling).

Today is my 34th birthday. Damn, that is old. It was a day at home for us. A half hour of false fire alarms didn't wake this little girl, but her brother and I finally woke her up to go outside and play. (Her pillow is oh-so-useful).

We had a little Face Time with Ammy (apparently she was simultaneously speaking on her cordless phone from 1995).

Lastly...Oklahoma...

My heart quickened the other night when I got a text asking if I'd seen the news. We lived in Norman, just south of Moore, for the first three years we were married. The people of Oklahoma...they are unbelievably kind. They accept military families as their own, knowing that their time there will be short-lived. They bring you into their communities, their homes, their hearts. I will probably never return to the state, but I will always have a spot for it in my heart (and friendships made there that will last a lifetime).

One of those friends, Laura (or "Nurse Laura" as most of my friends know her) and I had dinner the night after the tornado. She gave me this, heavy-hearted, as an early birthday present, something she had ordered awhile ago. (It's from here if you are interested and they are donating $10 of each Oklahoma print sold to the Red Cross).

Then, just a few minutes ago, one of the other friends I made at my very first job in Oklahoma who called me (and still calls me) her, "Favorite Yankee," donated the gift that moved Team Moustache to $1,500, tripling our fundraising goal.

At its heart, the world is still good.

...weekend

...thank you for your kind comments about Charmer. I always knew she was more than our dog, your comments always confirm that.

---

The last of my college friends was married on Friday afternoon. I traveled up to Philly to celebrate with some of my closest friends and couldn't quite grasp that it's been almost 16 years since we first met.

There are lots of babies, babies to come, babies babies babies. We ended the night early, our ears ringing from the band.

The next morning I woke up and met my mom at Terrain.

Ever walk in somewhere and feel so overwhelmed because you want one of everything?

Yeah, that feeling.

On the way home, I drove by my first place of employment. For those of you have heard me tell the story about how I worked at the very first Rita's water ice, here she is:

(I was stopped, don't worry). For some reason, there is no plaque commemorating my employment. Hmph.

On Sunday, we drove back up to Pennsylvania as a family to celebrate my baby cousin, Devin, graduating from college. It is hard to type those words. The day she was born is one of my first vivid memories.

And we celebrated the fact that the three of us could be together.

...her name was charmer

...and she was our dog.

Since moving, we have a lot of new people in our lives. People who wonder about our frequent references to Charmer. She's the name of our wifi. The art on our walls. The golden retriever ornaments on the Christmas tree. She's my username on Instagram. So what do I tell them?

Her name was Charmer and she was our dog.

She was obsessive about tennis balls.

She was much more into people than other dogs.

She had a light pink dot on her nose and a big black spot on her tongue.

She was the most popular guest blogger I've ever known.

She treated begging like a professional sport.

She was just starting to get to know her little boy, Charlie.

She has been gone for three years, today, and I can still remember how that clump of fur I'm grabbing felt.

She has been gone for three years, today, and this pillow sits in our new family room, in our new house, in our new town that she would not know. And we still call it the, "Charmer pillow."

Her name was Charmer and she was our dog. And we miss her, more than you'll ever know.

...team moustache

“What we have done for ourselves alone dies with us; what we have done for others and the world remains and is immortal.” Albert Pike

I have a really easy job. I get to ask people to give money to a really great cause. But what makes it even closer to my heart is that its a cause that has changed my child's life. (I only use italics when I'm serious, folks).

When Charlie started to babble, we heard one sound:

Last summer, we found Radcliffe Creek School in Chestertown, Maryland. The school is a special place for students with learning differences, and to our benefit also had a preschool! It has almost been a year since we made our first trip here and Charlie now not only has words, he has sentences. Yesterday, he told Clara she was, "Making a mess." (She was).

He is learning language through his peers (now his friends) and also through his sessions with one of the School’s speech therapist. I know it’s hard to believe that a word like, “Moustache,” can bring you to tears, but when you worry that your child will never talk, it does.

He still has a long way to go. His speech is different. But that is what is great about Radcliffe Creek. He is not compared. He is learning that it’s OK when people are different, and actually, it’s better.

But the School needs help. In order to continue changing children's lives, private donations are imperative.

The School has its biggest fundraiser at the end of this month, the Run for Radcliffe. It is the biggest source of income for the School's financial aid fund. I don't run (unless I'm being chased) and Ken is a retired long-distance runner, so our family set up a ghost team, basically to raise money so the education Charlie is receiving can be available to all children who need it.

Our goal is $500 but I'm not-so-secretly hoping to blow that out of the water. Would you consider helping me do this? Click on the button below to learn more or to donate today. Any amount can truly make a difference.

...charlie's fourth birthday party

I know all the four year-olds appreciated my calligraphy.

Invitation was from here (awesome to work with). I buy all my vintage stamps from Bid Start - the selection is unbeatable. And let me tell you, vintage stamps come in some of the most unique packaging you'll ever see.

The invitation was pretty much the beginning and the end of any kind of theme because we had the party at a local kid's gym, where I'm convinced all birthday parties should be held. We were in and out within two and a half hours AND I didn't have to wash the floors.

Charlie's shirt is from here. I've gotten him one every year so far. Ken asked if he will have one when he's 18. I looked at him, in all seriousness, and said, "Of course."

A lot of Charlie's new friends came, but some of his oldest too (and some of my oldest too, including Mercer and Molly Marine, babies in tow).

Oh, the train theme continued with the cupcakes, I suppose. Imagine the Island of Sodor, made out of Cool Whip. God Bless Acme.

(That's Ken's finger in the bottom right in case anyone's wondering. And my mom behind Charlie).

Clara liked the cupcakes just fine too.

The next day, we drove all the way to the Island of Sodor for a ride on Thomas with one of Charlie's friends. Charlie went last year, but this year he was mesmerized.

Hmm, or he might have been watching the police escort. It was Baltimore, not really Sodor, folks.

Sweetest girl. And yes, I'm wearing my Stitch Fix shirt.

Monday was Charlie's actual birthday (yes, it was like the Royal Wedding with events from Friday-Monday).

It was a school day for us, and so fun to be there with him as his class celebrated.

That night we had three presents for Charlie, and this was his last. We now officially own the entire Island of Sodor.

He is four!

...planetarium

...Studio Calico's latest!

...1,460 days ago

...we met Charlie.

...happy birthday, peanut.

...everyone likes a bandwagon

...and I'm no different.

Last month, I jumped on the Stitch Fix bandwagon. (My coworker Erin cannot remember the name of the site and refers to it as, "Stitch Bi**h.")

I didn't take any pictures or modeling shots of that shipment, but I ended up keeping two out of the five pieces. (One of the three I sent back was a horizontal striped sweater dress...my rear end looked like the size of Texas. The other I sent back was jersey fabric. Which I made really clear in my reviews,"NO MORE JERSEY FABRIC." I'm pretty sure you have to be a size 2 or have industrial-strength spanx to pull that off).

This month's box arrived yesterday and I tell you, opening it is the closest to Christmas morning you can come as an adult. I think it's the idea that we are all so busy caring about other people, doing our jobs, cooking, picking up crumbs, taking care of poop, that it's nice to think there's someone out there thinking about us. My stylist. Ha.

I was a little leary when I first opened the box because the first thing was this purse. Which actually wouldn't be bad (especially if I wasn't wearing my "day at home" hooded sweatshirt) but it's a little clunky, and not big enough for sippies, wipes, diapers, binkies, lovies, and toys. I also don't have the strap long enough but I didn't care enough to fix it.

But then I saw this top and things started to look up. I said no animal prints, but I guess birds don't count:

These are quite possibly the worst pictures I have ever taken.

I am keeping the bird top. I can wear it to work with a blazer or around here with jeans.

Next was this little green number:

I liked it, but at $48 for a woven tank, it just didn't seem worth it and I wasn't sure if I would wear it outside of work. I'm sending it back.

I almost didn't try this shirt on because I was like, "1980 called and wants it's top back." I thought it might have shoulder pads. But this is proof that you should try everything on in your box:

I actually really liked the way it looked. It had detail along the bottom you couldn't see just pulling it out of the box, and buttons on the 3/4 length sleeves. I'm still deciding about this one. I'm not sure if I'll wear it to work (my criteria to keep things is that they have to be able to be worn both at home and at work). My friend said this looked like a good boho-chic staple. Ha.

The scarf is from my last box. I love it.

Last thing was this odd cardigan/wrap/I knew it wasn't right when I first saw it:

Meh. I'm sending it back.

For $20, if you are considering doing Stitch Fix, I would say give it a try.

So that's it. If you would like to help me with my future purchases, please feel free to sign up using my link here.

...his perspective

We found an older digital camera the other day and Charlie walked around with it for the better part of the day, documenting his life. Future Project Lifer?

Sister was sleepy.

There are a whole lot of pictures of Charlie's lap. And Charlie's feet. And Charlie's hand, over the lens.

When I was looking at the pictures at the end of the day after Charlie had gone to bed, I said to Ken, "Did you stop at the hardware store?" I wonder if the clerk had any idea she was being photographed...by a three year-old.

Poppy stopped by for a visit.

There were a few still life portraits.

And two pretty awesome backseat landscapes.

Love Charlie's perspective.

...big tour of the little house - clara's room

...Yeah, let's get this tour over with, already.

 
Walking down the hallway toward her room.

I think that's a binky under her dresser. At least I hope that's what it is.

We added a pink pouf after this picture was taken. Everyone needs a pink pouf.

Clara's room only has one window, so I wanted to keep it light and airy. Lots of neutrals with pops of color. I love it.

I always wanted a window seat as a kid, so I gave her one.

I think all the sources for this artwork are over on the left. The changing pad cover, rug, and pouf are all from Land of Nod.

A little detail of the tiny wall decal on that frame wall.

I made that mobile. And I don't let anyone look at it closer than three feet away because it looks like a second grader made it.

Her room is peaceful and serene. Which is good, because curly? Well, she's crazy.

...the charlie photo bomb

...I was in Charlie's classroom this morning taking some pictures of his classmates for a project I'm working on.

Except there was this one kid that kept stepping in front of the lens.

...I guess you could say he's used to being the one getting his picture taken. And there he was, at my heels, the whole time.

...And he just might make it into the brochure:

...spencer's

...sharing this month's Project Life layouts using Studio Calico's Spencer Kit.

...one year ago today

...we packed up the car. Multiple times.

...There was still a bulldozer in the driveway and worker's trucks outside the garage. At least the port-a-pot and the random shower in the woods were gone.

...but we were coming home.

...I can't believe it's been a year. At least all the boxes are unpacked.

...we have very good days, and very bad days

...wednesday was a good one. We drove up to Baltimore for Clara's 18-month checkup. We had Starbucks, Clara's appointment (where we learned that she is tall...94th percentile tall!), Target, and Chick Fil A. The kids were happy, patient, kind to each other. The sun was shining.

Thursday was back to school for both kids and me, back to our normal routine. That night as we were putting Clara and Charlie into the tub, Clara started to fuss a little as I took her top off. And then she froze.

If you have met Clara in person, you know she doesn't freeze much.

Something was wrong. I put her in the tub to see if the water on her feet would startle her. Nothing. I handed her to Ken to see if she would react. Nothing. I ran for the phone to call 911 and as I was explaining what was happening, I saw her eyes roll into the back of her head, her lips start to turn blue.

God bless that person on the other end of the line and may I never hear a recording of that call.

Ken laid her on her back and swept her mouth to make sure there wasn't anything in there (per the 911 operator). At one point, what seemed like hours later but was really only minutes, she starting coughing and then she was back. I spent the rest of the 911 call trying to explain where we lived to the operator, even after he assured me they would find us.

And that they did. Six ambulances and 12 EMTs, to be exact. Our town's volunteers showed up first, followed by 10 more. It was humbling and made me love this town more than I thought possible. Any thoughts about what I can do to thank them?

No one was panicked (except Charlie, maybe a little, as Ken tried to comfort him). They did a quick exam and by then I had already diagnosed her. Febrile seizure. I had them as a baby, and I knew they were hereditary.

We made the trip to the hospital in the back of the ambulance. The only thing that would comfort Clara was watching videos on my phone of 1) Charlie and 2) Maddie (I later - in an extreme moment of weakness - told Ken that we should get her a puppy. Ha).

A high-dose of motrin, some gatorade, a little nap, and a negative flu test later, she was fine (and all like, "Hey! Being up at 10 p.m. is COOL!)

She is OK. It is a bad virus. And Charlie has croup. And mom and dad are tired. But we are OK. We know what to look for now and how to react if it happens again. And no, we aren't getting a puppy.

...disappearing

...I know a lot of moms feel this way after they have kids. Parts of them, who they were, or who they thought they were, start to disappear. I had one of those days this week. It was pouring rain; I had two kids to drag in and out of the car multiple times. The car needed gas during a small monsoon. I needed to miraculously get home, drop the kids off with a babysitter, and make it to a meeting that was 45 minutes away in approximately 20 minutes. Everyone was tired. I thought about the days...before. I can’t even remember what I did with my free time, sometimes I can’t remember who I used to be. I know I had the memory at some point, but it’s like trying to find a file that was erased from my hard drive years ago.

And then, just like that, it was bedtime. I gave Clara a bottle, and after nuzzling in my neck for a moment, she slowly, quietly pushed back, smiled ear-to-ear, ripped out her binky and screamed, “Momma!” Then I went to Charlie’s room, where he slowly, quietly, read me Little Blue Truck. I came downstairs and surveyed the day’s mess. The trains that met my feet with every step. The random lego, golf ball, and hmm, I hope that’s a straw, under the bookcase. The new scratches on my kitchen table, my new wood floors. The questionable stains. And dear lord the crumbs. The crumbs.

And trust me, I hate it when people tell me to appreciate this time just as much as this guy does (I know I'm not the only one who said a quiet, "amen," when they read, "There are people who say this to me: 'You should enjoy every moment now! They grow up so fast!' I usually smile and give some sort of guffaw, but inside, I secretly want to hold them under water. Just for a minute or so. Just until they panic a little.") Just until they panic. A little.

But, that night, I realized that some day there will be no one to put to bed. There will be no trains and no cries in the middle of the night. No backs to rub, no binkies to search for. There will be no one to dance to Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star with. Suddenly, I became sentimental about sticky fingerprints.

There will be no Hansel and Gretel trail up the stairs at night.

There will be no one to stick an, “M” sticker to my butt, which I walk around the better part of the day with, completely unaware.

But I digress.

I don’t just feel like I have disappeared from my every day life, but also from my scrapbooks. And I’m OK with that. I’m all for guilt-free scrapbooking, as in, you do what you can and that has to be good enough. So when I was asked to participate in Lexi Bridges’ This is Me class at Studio Calico, I really wondered if it was something I should do. Then I realized it wasn’t something I should do, it was something I needed to do. Because one day, some day, my kids might want to know more than just what they were like when they were little. They might want to know what I was like too. It’s important to remember them, but it’s also important to remember me too.

I used to scrapbook about myself, about us (when that was just two adults and a dog) all the time.

And I’m really, really going to try to keep this up (a few little sneaks from my album for the class):

The class is going to be great. Join us if you can, that is if you aren’t too busy having someone embellish your butt with alpha stickers. Like me.