on blooming

Last September 24th, after nearly a year of planning and prepping, building, celebrating, crying, making changes and making do, we were finally moving into our house. It was a day much anticipated by everyone, but, as with any big change, also a little bittersweet. We had ended up living in our 9-month rental for 3 years and had many wonderful friends in our neighborhood. The kids, particularly, were sad to leave their bike riding, mud-pie-making, fort-hiding, Lego-building friends behind.
Chad picked up the moving truck Friday night, and on Saturday when the crew of helpers showed up to load it, we were surprised to find the most beautiful potted mum left, secretly, inside. I still don't know who the giver was, but the plant meant so much to me. It was the first thing I unloaded at the new house and it sat proudly on our front porch 'till the snow came.
When the blossoms started to fade, I was so heartbroken...I couldn't just throw it away. So, I planted it, right off the porch, in memory of my first 3 years in Colorado.
By spring, the plant wasn't looking so good. Other plants started to shed their winter brown, but the mum was just as crispy and dead-looking as ever. I started pulling back the leaves and nearly pulled it out of the ground completely, when, like Dicken in "The Secret Garden" I noticed a bit of green. It was wick, it had a light about it! (if you don't know the music from the musical, you must get it today!)
With hope, I made sure my baby plant got water every day, and after a few weeks, it started to revive.
Now, a year later, it is big and beautiful and blooming!

 Like my mum, I have grown a lot this year, too. It took longer than I thought it would to feel like I could bloom in this new place, even though it wasn't so far from my old place. But, I am grateful for the roots that are a pushing down here, for the people around me who have been my sun and water and helped me along, and for the opportunity to keep growing and blooming, year after year, in such a wonderful place as this.

pwaytime

The plan was to get the kids down and tackle my still-long Saturday to-do list while Chad spent a late night at the youth dance. But, I couldn't resist her sweet plea to "p-way ponies, Mom!" and I wasn't up for yet another bed time battle with my girl (who is growing out of her 3 hour naps, but still taking them, which translates into not wanting to go to bed.)

We sat on the floor and she dumped out her bag of ponies (as in, My Little); I set to getting them all dressed and accessorized.  Lea started 'cooking' because "Ponies are thirsty, Mom."

"Put in marshmallows. Pour in milk. Mix. Mix. Mix. Sluuuurp! Mmmm! Tasty!  Ponies like to drink it."

When did she start saying marshmallows?  Just last month she would ask for a buffalo when she wanted one.  I miss it. 

"The ponies want to eat popcorn now. Mmm. Yummy! It is amazing!"

{smile} Amazing.  This girl is amazing, if you ask me.

"Hey! Where is the shoe? The pony needs another one.  I don't know? I'll look for it. Hmmm. Hey! My hippo!  See my hippo, Mom?  It is a hat! Uh-oh! Fall off.  Tricky!  I tricky too!" (somersault)

She is pretty tricky at getting out of bedtime, too.

"The pony is thirsty again.  Mix, mix, mix. Oh, yeah.  Boo-yah!"

That one made me laugh, and as I'm chuckling, she looks up, flashes a smile, and says, "I funny?"

It was worth ditching the list.

the family bed

This is what my bed looks like. Every morning.

Okay, we so we don't have a dog or cat (or, hopefully, a mouse and flea), but our bedposts sag under the weight of too many folks in the bed.

Although I used to be a big 'hamster nap' kind of girl, I'm afraid all this interrupted sleep is making me look more and more like the granny in this picture.  But, I'm trying to be more like my long-suffering hubby who says, "Just enjoy it. They won't climb in our bed forever."

At this point, it looks like they might!