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Happy Father's Day!

For all the times Scottie has held the girls and rocked them to sleep and given them kisses and tickled them until he couldn't stop laughing...
Happy Father's Day!   

Moving Day #1

We moved a week ago, but it's only the first of two such days.  Our "Short Sale" hasn't gone through, so we moved in with Scott's Aunt.  We hope to be in our home by the end of the summer, but we're learning that "short sale" is the worst misnomer we've had to deal with personally.  So, until then, we are the grateful guests of Aunt Barbara. 

I suppose I should have lots of memorable, sentimental things to say about our apartment...but I don't.  I don't miss the fridge that continually leaks, or the fire alarm placed exactly over the stove.  I don't miss the upstairs neighbors flushing the toilet every time I hop in the shower.  I don't think I'll miss sweating in the middle of August without central air or even a swamp cooler.  Nope, I don't think I'll miss any of those things.

Then again, I already miss the people.  The neighbors have watched the girls multiple times when I needed to run down to school...or just take a shower.  I'll miss visiting with friends while the kids played together.  I'll miss their examples and encouraging words.  I'll miss laughing about life and kids and church callings and a hundred other topics we covered over the backyard fence.  I don't exactly know if I told them that all the little things they did really made a difference.  I think I've told them, but can you say "thank you" too many times to people that have lifted you so often?

We lived there four years - almost to the day - and it was the place where we changed from a newlywed couple to a family of four.  So even though I'm not sentimental about the actual house, I'm a little sentimental that this chapter of our lives is at an end.  Scottie keeps reminding me that the next chapter will be wonderful - full of new friends, new adventures, and our own house.  But I did allow myself to be melancholy during the move, say some goodbyes, and think back on the first chapter of our family story. 

Scottie and I as the "Newlywed Couple" opening presents.  We still don't know what this is - it resembles a bird feeder, but we use it as a candy dish.

Add Noel...

Add Juliet...

And suddenly, we are a family of four...

The Problem with Being a Tomboy...

...is that, sometimes, you need to have a purse.  And when you're a tomboy, you have a strict "no purses" policy.  When you're a tomboy, everyone knows it, so they don't buy you purses.  They buy you backpacks and camelpaks, running shoes and sports magazines.  But they never buy you a purse.

This became a problem last Friday night when I was getting ready to attend graduation as part of my job.  I have plenty of nice dress-up clothes, but I haven't needed a purse in several years.  I owned a nice one several years ago, but abandoned it for an oversized diaper bag.  Things get lost in this bag, and it resembles a miniature duffel bag.  It can hold multiple diapers, wipes, bibs, crackers, sippy cups, toys, books, and anything else necessary when leaving the house.  The diaper bag can take you to the moon and back, but it doesn't work for a graduation ceremony. 

Twenty minutes before the graduation began, I frantically ran around the house looking for a purse.  I looked, my husband looked, but the only dainty purse I had ever owned had gone missing.  It was now fifteen minutes until the graduation ceremony began.  At this point, I grabbed my daughter's play purse:  a white, flowery bag. 

"Does this look like it belongs to a 2-year old?" 

"No," my husband said, knowing that time was running out.  "Just go - you'll be late."

And so...I throw in my keys and license, and head out the door.  Because sometimes, even a tomboy needs to have a purse.  Even if I have to borrow it from my 2-year old daughter.