The Stand-In

Hey y'all - 

I called my friend Tracy the other day and asked if I could borrow her 15 year-old daughter Kassedy to help me practice some photography techniques. I remember in the photography workshop I took back in March of last year that my teacher Meghan said, "If you really want to get some practice in, find yourself a teenage girl. They will pose for you for days." I wanted to practice shooting in manual mode, and I wanted to get out of the woods; there are only so many person-in-front-of-a-tree photos I can take. 

Before Kassedy came over, I took Laney on a little tour of downtown and the new river park on a hunt for shooting locations. Or, as Laney called it, "our abbenture."

Laney was an excellent stand-in:

She dresses herself, ladies and gentlemen.

...and then this is how things turned out with the big girl:

Love,

Mom

Just A Couple Of Girls, Having A Pretend Sleepover

Mr. Personality

I Came. I Sawed. I Conquered.

Dear Laney,

This morning after breakfast, you sat down at my computer upstairs to play a game. I was downstairs dressing Hagen when I heard you squeal, "I'M STUCK!" Thinking you were just "stuck" on a level of your computer game, I ignored you and kept chasing Hagen around his room to get a shirt on the boy. The longer I was down there, the more desperate your hollering became.  In my defense, this IS how you would react to being stuck in your game, because most days you have two modes: asleep, and DEFCON 5.

I finally made my way upstairs to discover you were quite literally stuck: you'd been sitting down on the chair when you slipped your foot back in between the two horizontal front slats and almost instantly discovered that you couldn't get your foot back out.

We wiggled your foot around, which you found distressing. We lotioned up your foot and tried to slip it out - nope. I tried laying the chair on its back and lifting you out, but that made you scream, so we stopped that at once.

So I went to the garage and got the saw.

When I came up the stairs holding the saw, you started sobbing in earnest, because you thought I was going to use the saw on your foot, instead of the chair. I sat down and sawed the slat off the chair, and in five minutes or so, we'd liberated your foot. The whole time, I was cussing you under my breath for getting your foot stuck in an antique solid oak chair that took for-ev-er to saw, instead of one of the many Ikea chairs located around the house that I could probably carve up in two minutes with a steak knife.

I exercised restraint and didn't take any pictures of you in your moment of crisis. I also didn't laugh, even though the situation reminded me so much of that episode of "Designing Women" when Julia gets her head stuck in the historic Abbot Banister.

They sawed her out of that one, too.

Happens to the best of us.

Love,
Mom

Done

Made banana bread, cleaned(ish) her room, hit Hagen back when he hit her on the head, cried and confessed, played 80 rounds of hide and seek, had a play date with Alexi and Beatrix, built a blanket fort, watched the Tinkerbell movie, went swimming in the hot tub, taught herself to use the printer, brought me the PBS Kids recipe for fried rice, cooked fried rice 'cause why not?, brushed her teeth, went upstairs to put on her pajamas, wasn't heard from again. 

A Magician Never Reveals Her Secrets

Dear Laney,

Ever since you got the chance to be the magician's assistant at the children's museum last weekend, you've been interested in learning magic tricks. On the first day, you developed a disappearing act, where you'd tell us you were going to disappear, then you'd make us close our eyes and count to five while you crawled under the coffee table. Then a little voice from under the table: "SEE? I DID IT!"

I only know one magic trick, taught to me by my cousin Greg when we were in third grade, and it involves hiding a coin between your thumb and index finger to make it "disappear," then making it reappear from your mouth or someone's ear or anywhere else that strikes your fancy. I decided to teach it to you, because I felt like you should elevate your game from the coffee table gag.

Your friend Max came over to play the other night, and you decided to put on your official magician costume and demonstrate your new trick:

Even Siegfried and Roy had to start somewhere.

Love,
Mom

Queen Of The Autumn Fairies

There was a tutorial on one of the photography blogs I like today on how to make a leaf crown. "Crown" is one of Laney's favorite words, so this is what we did today during Hagen's nap:

Extra Ebbyting

Dear Hagen,

We'll be going on a trip to Florida and Georgia in a few weeks to visit with your southern grandparents and other assorted relations. The last time we were there, you were a barely-walking baby and you hadn't yet come into your own, so I thought it would be best if we warned everyone of some of your fun quirks before we arrive.

On occasion, someone will ask me how my boy child and my girl child are different. I always explain it by saying, "If I had handed Laney Object A and Object B, she'd have invented a relationship between them. She'd have Object A and Object B talk to each other, then she'd make up a song about their history, and would finally perform an interpretive dance to really sell Object A's devotion to Object B. Now, if you were to hand Object A and Object B to Hagen, his first move would be to beat the tar out of Object A with Object B, until Object A was just a pile of wooden shrapnel. Then, he'd look up and smile at you and declare: PIXED IT!!!"

"Pixed it" is still big around here, as is the post-pixed, "WHAT 'OPPENED?!?" Related: "Is BOKEN!"And if it's boken and can't be pixed with a hammer, doubtless it needs new barries (a.k.a a Duracell or two).

You have an artistic streak about 3 feet wide, which is the same width as the kraft paper I've hung around the perimeter of our living room in self-preservation. You like to draw on the walls like none other, so I assume I'll be taking this paper down around the time that you enter junior high school.

Just this morning, I learned that in the time it takes me to leave the room to answer the phone and have a brief conversation with my boss, you can color the lower half of your face with a red magic marker and steal a pile of cookies off the kitchen counter.

Yes. Yes to the question, "Does that young'un ever wear clothes?" My boss asked me that question today when I sent him that picture on the bottom as a way of explaining my normal work environment. You wear lots of clothes. In fact, these pictures were taken at 9:00am this morning, in between wardrobe changes 2 and 3...outfit #1 was the victim of a overburdened diaper, and outfit #2 was coated in maple syrup, which reminds me of another of your favorite words: 'affle! (for "waffle.") I thought your teachers were miracle workers, because you always came home without a spot of lunch on you, 'til I showed up at your school one day at lunchtime and you were happily eating away, shirtless. SEE? Even professionals have given up. 

Speaking of your school, there's a sheet of notebook paper taped to the wall of your school's kitchen with dietary notes on each child: Sawyer can't have dairy. Mira shouldn't have wheat. Hagen likes extra everything.

Your favorite sentences include, "No, Yaney! Is mine!" and from the bottom of the stairs most mornings at 5:58 a.m., "YANEY!!! 'ERE AH YOU???" Yeah, we moved you into a big boy bed last month, which means that when you wake up at the crack of dawn, you're free to roam about the cabin. Just yesterday, I woke up to a toy fire engine being run up and down my mattress while you yelled "WEE-YU! WEE-YU WEE-YU!" in your best siren impression. 

One of the things your dad and I get the biggest kick out of lately is how you'll just start talking in huge run-on sentences...at least we think they are, because we can't understand a dang word you're saying. But after jabbering at us very sincerely for a few minutes, you always end your rants by throwing your arms wide and yelling, "...and EBBY-TING!" "And 'everything?'" we ask. "YEAH!"

You like puzzles and books and sharing half of every plate with Ella the dog. You like hugs and snuggles and high fives. We know the moment you've accomplished something, no matter how small, because you scream out, "I DID IT!!!" There is nothing cuter in this world than when you tear through the house in your footie pajamas, or when you climb to the top of the stairs just so you can walk up to my desk and say clear as a bell, "Hi, Mama."

I can't wait for them to see you. 

Love,

Mom

The Man Who Hates Black Friday

Dear Laney,

Your dad mocked me endlessly for going shopping on Black Friday last year, because to stand in a line of people just to shop is "crazy," and to fight your way through a horde of people just to save some money "totally isn't worth it," and the frenzy that occurs when stores first open their doors to the public is "insane."

Ahem. 

Last weekend was the SOS Ski Swap, where people from all around the area consign their used ski equipment, with a portion of the proceeds going to local search and rescue organizations. The sale started at 10am. Your dad was in line by 8am. This is a picture of that line:

I did not take that picture. Instead, I stole it from the sale's facebook page. I wasn't within a mile of the sale because I do not stand out in freezing, windy weather for an-y-thing. Willie Nelson could be playing a block up the road, and if it were overcast and 20 degrees and blustery, I'd wave and yell from the porch, "Love ya, Willie!" then come inside and shut the damn door like a person with sense.

Your dad sent me a few text messages from inside the sale, like: "Measure Laney's head!" Other than that, we didn't hear from him for hours. I'd'a worried he'd been trampled in some Black Friday-esque stampede, except those tragedies usually involve a herd of southern women, and I knew no southern woman in this world would'a stood in a line to buy skis or a (hairdo-crushing) helmet.

He made it home for lunch, and was lit up like a Christmas tree. I can't remember when I've seen him as excited as he was to haul in that pile of ski gear, including your first pair of downhill skis:

The only person who could match his enthusiasm was you:

...At least, until twelve or so minutes passed, and you decided you were done with skiing and wanted to move on to yoga.

So your dad just stepped around you to grab himself a beer.

Namaste, everybody,

Mom

Yard Work

First Friday - November

Hey y'all - 

Last night, we hit downtown for First Fridays. To get things started, we went to the park and played on the swings:

    

Then we went to the new SpectrUM kids' science museum. There was bubble art and a water table and another hands-on exhibit that shows the effects of erosion:

Coolest of all, we got to the Museum just in time for the magic show. When the magician needed an assistant, you'll never guess who volunteered:

They did a simple rope trick, but it blew Hagen's mind:

And finally, to celebrate Laney's professional magic debut, we went out for empanadas.

...which Laney made disappear the old-fashioned way.

Alacazam!

Love,
Mom