8 Years!!

Our anniversary was exactly a week ago, but I couldn’t publish this until now, for reasons that will be explained below.

 

First of all, here we are 8 years later.  Unfortunately, I do not have any of my wedding pictures digitized to show you here.  Actually, that’s probably for the best, as I suffer in comparison with a younger, pre-pregnancy self who had just spent $$ on my hair and make up and even more $$$$ on a fantastic photographer to record that  day.  Here, it is 10pm and I am holding the camera in front of us for that unique I’m-holding-the-camera-myself angle.

 

But here’s what I am really excited about.  The traditional gift for the 8th anniversary is pottery.  So we went to a ceramic store where you pick out the item you want to paint, then decorate away with the paints, stencils, and sponges stocked at the store.   Then you leave it there and come back a week later to a fired piece of pottery.

Dwayne and I originally thought we paint for about an hour and then have dinner at our favorite restaurant, Sages.  Two and a half hours later, I had to leave to pick up the kids and Dwayne stayed almost another hour to finish his work of art. 

This experience almost perfectly typlifies the differences between Dwayne and I.   He chose a more elegant, beautiful (and expensive) piece.  He then researched themes, sketched his ideas out, traced perfect circles on the platter, traced and drew his design on the platter, began meticulously painting it, using sponge and brush techniques, and had a nearly perfect piece when it was done.

 

   

 

Then, after the firing:

 

Dwayne will point out the imperfections, but I think it is interesting, bold, and beautiful.

In contrast, I chose a simple dinner plate.  I painted one side my favorite color of green (to match the walls of my kitchen) and the other same shade of red to match my regular dishes.  I had in mind the “Special” plates I had seen before—a plate that the birthday person or new graduate or gold-star winner would get to eat from for the day.

I plunged into the project by painting the base color first, and then thinking about how to get the letters on.  After I asked the person who worked there her advice, I scrapped off the paint with a stylus to reveal the first layer of white pottery.   Then it didn’t look that interesting, so I grabbed some squeezable white paint and free-handed some designs, half-heartedly copying from some store display samples.  When I went back with the stylus to define the lettering, the excess red paint got mixed into the white “icing” I had done around the edges.  I know from past project experience that any attempt to fix that would result in a mess, a ugly project, and a potential heartache, so I left it.

The finished product:

So Dwayne does a lot more planning, uses real designs to create a unique art piece that comes from his own imagination and talent.  His projects take time and money.  (Think backyard—retaining walls and staircase.)

I jump into a project, steal ideas like crazy, leave lots of imperfections, and complete the project in a timely manner.  (Think any room of our house.)

And I really like how both of our projects turned out.

Safety Gear

I mowed the lawn yesterday with Wesley in the backpack. To protect his hearing, I put these on him. Do you think he will ever thank me?

A Taste, A Tooth, A Tiger

When we went in for Wesley’s 6th month check up, his pediatrician predicted a tooth soon and wasn’t worried about his 10th percentile weight since he was starting solids. She was right on both accounts. His first tooth poked through a three days ago, and he went from tasting food last week to devouring peas, carrots, bananas, peaches, plums, blueberries, rice, and vegetable rusks.

Again, Dwayne’s total aversion to food mess amuses me to no end. I’m the one who dusts, cleans, and vacuums weeks before Dwayne realizes it needs it, but I love watching my kids figure out how to get pureed blueberries on their eyebrows. And Dwayne doesn’t.

Kyla’s Vacation

Kyla got a break from us and visited Gramma and Papa K for a full week. Gramma took her to Vacation Bible School at her church. Kyla was in the preschool class that Gramma helps teach. She loved VBS, but there’s a lot of good things about being at Gramma and Papa’s.

First, there’s really good food. Kyla husks the corn for dinner.

She picks rhubarb and helps Gramma make a rhubarb pie and rhubarb cake! (She helped eat them, too.)

Gramma bought her a pool, too!

And she got some bike riding in with her personal entourage. It’s a good life.

She and Piper did wonderfully apart for a week. When I went down to pick Kyla up, the girls were so excited to see each other and played and played and played. When they got that out of the way, they were able to pick up fighting again. I wasn’t 3 minutes into the drive home before I had to pull of the road and start the “I can’t drive us home safely if you are going to fight in the back seat, you two!” speech. Ah, my family is complete again.

Confessions

My favorite non-friend blog to follow is The Pioneer Woman. She has her confessions page, which while very entertaining, usually amounts to admitting preferring picking her toenails over doing manure-encrusted laundry. Or her love of dessert and her dog Charlie.

My confession is much worse. For the second time in less than a month, I dropped my child.

This child.

This beautiful, beautiful child.

The first time, I was carrying her and Wesley up the stairs to naptime. Piper was squirming, trying to climb up onto my shoulders and from there up on my head. She made it, just a moment before she kept going, over my shoulders and onto the tile floor, two or three stairs down. She was perfectly fine, eventually, but I did end up taking her to the ER later that night after she developed a few worrisome symptoms.

The second time was much, much worse. Fully accidental, but far more traumatic and very preventable.

We were at a summer concert in our hometown. We met a few friends down there and I took a few of the girls up front to dance. I was working with almost 4-year olds, so we weren’t doing anything complex. Think “Ring A Round the Rosie”. Occasionally backwards. Piper only wanted to hold my hand and eventually just wanted to hold my legs. That was getting dangerous for me (ha!) as I was tripping over her and I had four or five girls dancing with me by now. So I put her on my shoulders, letting her hang on with her hands and feet. And she did great, until I somehow mis-stepped, and she fell back, managing to turn in the air so she landed on her face in the gravel. If you are picturing this happening right in front of stage, with everyone watching the cute preschoolers dancing, well, you would be correct. No only did I drop my child, causing distress for both of us and decent injury for her, I did it while everyone in the park was watching.

Two lessons.

1) Back up moms are the best. I had two mom-friends there. Brandy immediately helped me with wipes, water, a chair, everything she could do to help me clean and comfort Piper. Jen completely took full responsibility for Wesley so I didn’t have to worry about him at all while I took care of Piper. They were great, and I don’t know how I would have managed without them. I think a stranger helping me out would have made me cry, and I didn’t have time to do that.

2) I did this right in front of the manned table that had two signs on it: “Lost Child” and “First Aid”. Piper fell no further than 1o feet from the First Aid sign and wailed loudly and bled profusely (well, it seemed to me). Not a single person from that table came to see if I needed help in anyway. No offers of ice, or tissue, or bandages, or phone calls, or medics. I guess the second lesson is really just how important the first lesson is.

Other than some scratches on her right cheek that will heal soon, and a slightly swollen upper lip, she was back to her usual self after a long nap (during which I checked on her often!). She healed more quickly than my heart did.

Dragon Park

My beloved parents took Kyla for the week so my mom could bring her to Vacation Bible School. We meet at a local park for the exchange and had a wonderful time. The actual name is Deane's Park, but scroll through the pictures to see why it’s often referred to as that dragon park.

Uncle Keith helps Kyla kick a soccer ball in mid-air. His baby boy is due in just a few weeks!!

Coincidently, she’s due to have a baby in few weeks. Okay, perhaps it’s not a coincidence. She’s sitting. She’s tired. She’s 8 months pregnant.

Wesley’s not sitting. And he’s not tired. Just 7 months ago, Wesley’s mom was feeling like Julie.

Butt look at her now! (Not a great angle with the camera, Dad.)

Okay, that’s better.

There’s the other one! If it makes you think of whack-a-mole, this may not be the park for you.

The climbing wall was a hit, too. Have I mentioned that my girls like to climb? Fearlessly?

Baby, Baby!

Wesley is 6 months old now!

He sits upright if you prop him up just right and don’t breath in his general direction.  He definitely knows his name and loves to watch his sisters’ antics.  It is difficult to take a picture with his fingers not in his mouth.  He sucks two fingers at a time, and although he has a preference for the two nearest his thumb on his left hand, he’ll take any two he can.  Even Daddy has given up trying to break him of this.  I find it endearing, of course.

Since it is a significant milestone (monthstone?), and I have recently found my camera, I took a lot of pictures of him this weekend.

Gang signs?

 

I’m not kidding about those fingers!    

Dwayne pulled Wes’s fingers out for this shot.  I love it!  And look at that handsome man in the back.  The Hawk is back!

Since Piper likes to snuggle on top, she assumes Wesley would appreciate the extra consideration she’s giving him.

  

 

Oops, must have breathed in the wrong direction!  

I can’t think of a good commentary for this picture.  Wesley speaks for himself here, I suppose.