The scales just won't tip.

It's been nearly a month since I dropped my precious camera and caused its untimely demise. A lot can happen in a month . . . a trip to Mexico, a little girl's third birthday, a little boy off to camp,the ripening of luscious fruits at one's grandparents' farm, a camping trip to Kentucky, babysitting one's precious nephew for the first time, a young girl teaching an even younger girl her first ballet positions, and so forth. A lot can happen in a month. It's nice to have photos of those happenings. It's not nice to not have photos of those happenings. These happenings are going to keep happening, so I'm feeling a little rushed shopping for a new camera. I've gotten advice, researched, and debated, but I just can't seem to make up my mind. Should I flip for a real camera and not make any purchases for oh, say, a year? Or should I just buy another point & shoot and save the extra moolah to build a sewing space? I've weighed the pros and cons of both but those scales aren't doing anything.
So here I sit. And those happenings keep happening while I wait for the scales to tip. Obviously, I have no photos to add to this post so I'll add a random one.

This is my Pappaw reading the paper. So glad I caught this happening.

The Secret Garden

Anna and I had a lot of fun in our spring ballet program. Our friend, Lindsay, did such an awesome job arranging and directing this lovely story. Thank you, Lindsay!

Anna had some very sweet friends come to watch.


Hugs from Daddy.


Uncle Ross, PawPaw, Luke, and Daddy with their snowflake

Anna loves her Gran.

We were a little busy backstage, so I only took pictures of one of my classes. I'm so glad I did because this is such a fun class. Aren't they precious?

And one more shot of our sweet snowflake . . .

Home

Deep breath. That's what I take when I see this picture. Is it just me, or does this picture provide instant relaxation and peace?

I love this place. This is the home that my great great grandparents built way back in 18?? (I'll have to research that date.) It's located about ten minutes from my house on a farm in Jonesborough,TN. This is the farm they worked for years until my great grandfather took over, then my grandfather.

I also love this place. It's located within sight on the same farm. We call it "Pap's house." Pap was my great grandfather. I remember his shiny bald head, overalls, and Little Debbie snack cakes.
This is the home he built right after my grandfather was born. He and my great grandmother lived here the rest of their lives and raised their son there (my Pappaw.) I lived here in the summers during college.

I love the kitchen.

My great grandmother cooked on this stove. It still works.

Caroline likes this little porch that houses an old washer & dryer and a sink.

I love the sink.

I love this porch swing.

And yet, another place I love. This is the home my grandfather built when he and my grandmother married. Again, it's within sight on the same farm. My dad was raised here, and my grandparents live here still. They planted this enormous tree.

Here's Pappaw, just this afternoon. He's changing the oil in his tractor. I love watching him work.

Mammaw's watching, waiting for him to ask her to help. He does. Then she holds a funnel while he pours some oil into a can. They help one another. They're both in their 80's and healthy and happy and wonderful in just about every way. I . . . love . . . them.

I love this farm. Currently, it is home for Mammaw & Pappaw, my sister & her husband (and new baby :), my aunt & uncle, my second cousin, and one of these days . . . the Baders. I want to live on this farm (or at least near it) so very badly. I think about it a lot. I'm actually blogging about it. Oh well, someday we'll live there . . . probably . . . maybe . . . or maybe not. One can only hope.

I love the gardens.

I love my cousin's horse. (I don't love the flies all over his eye. That's just gross.)


I love the hay bales. BTW, why doesn't the sky ever look like this in my neighborhood? Neighborhood shmeiborhood, that's why.

I love the hills.

I love the cherry trees.

Caroline loves them too.

We picked these today.

I love the apple trees (and the pear tree, grape vines, and blackberry bushes. But I didn't get pictures of those.)

I love the memories I have here.

I love letting my kids run amok. They can wander away from the eyes of adults to explore. They dig for worms and look at trees. The roll down hills and get muddy. They're not held captive by constant supervision. They learn and grow without my assistance. They're free.


I love the history, the stillness, and the fact that everything is so . . . well, real. It's not perfectly manicured. It's not pristine. The homes aren't large, or perfect, or new. They were made by the sweat of the people who lived in them. They were built by my ancestors. The land was worked, tended, and cared for by the people who love me.

It's home, plain and simple . . . and until I have a heavenly home,it always will be.

Welcome Ben!!

Benjamin Clark Hall was born to my sister and her husband on May 20. He weighed 9#2oz. and was 20.5 inches long. Mom and baby are doing well. Welcome Ben!!

Beauty Shop

Here's the look.

Caroline and I took naps at the same time recently. She woke up first which is always a downer. Usually I can dig deep and come out of my slumber before my body is ready. But not this time. I just couldn't shake it, so I told Caroline to go play with Luke while I rested a little more.
The next thing I knew, I was awake and the house was quiet. I thought
Wow, I'm so glad I got to sleep a little more.
Hmm, the kids are really quiet.
They're such good kids.
I wonder how long I slept.
I hope they're not dead.
I guess I'll get up and check.
As I eased down the quiet hallway, I caught a glimpse of silent movement from the bathroom. It was our youngest. She gave me the look. You know the look? The "I've been doing something that's probably not good but maybe if I smile really sweet, you won't care" look. I get it often.

I know a lot of kids cut their own hair at one point or another. It's a rite of passage, really. But doesn't it usually happen so innocently?
The sweet child is sitting at his desk cutting out a heart for Valentine's day. The scissors ever so slowly creep up to the bangs and just take a little bit off the top. Uh-oh mom. I cut my hair a little.
That's what I picture.
But not our baby. This girl had been making plans for weeks, and she finally had her chance.
The crime scene . . .

As you can see, my two year old set out all the hair cutting paraphernalia. You can see it all there. Scissors? Check. Comb? Check. Water bottle? Check. Stool because I have short, chubby legs? Check. Trash can placed perfectly in front of the stool to catch the trimmings? Check.
She even took her shirt off to prevent the hair itchies and had the broom out for clean up.
Is this the same girl who can't wipe her own nose?
I walked over to the trash can and found the evidence.
I've always thought cut hair looks disgusting in the trash can. It makes me feel queasy.

As I looked at Caroline's head, I couldn't see where all this hair had come from. I searched high and low for a bald spot but there was none.
Then I found it. Apparently, my daughter's hair cutting plan had reached beyond her beauty shop set up. She had ever so gently lifted the top of her hair, cut a chunk of the under layer then covered it back up so no one would know.
What's wrong Mommy? Are you mad at me?

Here's a profile view. The whole section is buzzed.

See the pretty pony tail?

Put it down. It makes me queasy.

We are so in for it.

Luke's 7th Birthday

We're all tuckered out from celebrating Luke's big birthday. We go a little crazy with the birthday parties.
It started with a "friend party" at our house. Luke wanted a party that included fire, wii, a fish cake, hot dogs, marshmallows, and a sleepover. On the day of the party our friendly neighborhood meteorologist was telling us we were to have 10 inches of snow so most of the boys did not sleep over.
But at least they came.

Fire and hot dogs, the perfect combination . . .

Blowing the fire OFF the hot dogs proved entertaining . . .

Ryan was clearly thrilled . . .

I don't really remember snowflakes this large, but the boy in blue is clearly stunned by the one that alighted in the center of his forehead.

Here's what boys turn into when they play too much Wii . . .

And of course a fish cake. What's a party without a fish cake?

A few days later we went to my grandparents' house in Jonesborough for a "family party." My parents, sister, brother-in-law, and niece were there to enjoy the celebration.
Caroline enjoyed the cheese.

Luke and Anna cuddled with Ryan while watching Wheel of Fortune. (I can not recall any evening spent at my grandparents' that did not include Wheel of Fortune.)

Luke got a rock digging kit, which he promptly put to good use.

He also got an awesome boomerang. (This boomerang is so awesome, it now rests at the top of a really tall tree at the end of our neighborhood. When the directions told us to throw it in a wide open area, it turns out that it meant an area the size of oh, maybe Texas.)

Happy Birthday bud.

We love you.