Fall Haiku at the Zoo

jewel tones and flip flops

soon we'll add tights and jackets

sunlight growing cool

5.) Write a Haiku for Fall and pair it with a favorite Fall photo you've taken this year.

It's Almost Like Cocktail Hour

Jessica and Liz, two savvy and supportive bloggers, hatched Summer Blog Social, an on-line blog conference for those of us missing the flurry of the summer blog conference circuit.

Previously, I was under the impression that blog conferences were about cocktails, sparkly shoes, and dancing at parties, but it turns out I was confusing a blog conference with an episode of The Real Housewives of {insert your favorite guilty pleasure here}.

It turns out that blog conferences are actually about recharging your blogging batteries, networking, and discovering and refining the direction of your blog…while drinking cocktails and dancing with new friends in sparkly shoes.

See why I’m not exactly the right person to give blogging advice? 

But if you held a gun to my head, which is what a well-phrased prompt equates to in my world, I would accept the challenge! Sooooo…Before I began blogging, I wish I had known…

…you can blog in a bubble, but it’s not nearly as much fun

I started Tiaras and Trucks without any real goals except to paper my little corner of the internet with pictures of and stories about my adorable daughter. Gradually, I noticed the world outside of my own blog (and birthed my equally adorable son); there are seventy billion blogs out there, and a countless number of them are written by talented writers and photographers and simply interesting people. When I started reaching out, reading and commenting and making connections, I really began to understand the social aspect of “social media”.

…making connections means making commitments

When I was ensconced in my little private blogging bubble, I only needed a few minutes each day to keep up my blog. Now, I’m putting in hours at my laptop, and only a fraction of that time is actually spent on Tiaras and Trucks.  I respond to the people kind enough to comment on my words and go visit their blogs.  I visit blogs of people I met through blogging that I now consider friends.  I read and comment on blogs I've stumbled upon and love, even if they don't know I exist!  I try to think of my blog as my on-line home. Staying home all the time doesn’t work for me in real life, and it doesn’t work in my blogging life either.

…blogging can reawaken a passion in your life

One Christmas, when I was in elementary school, Santa Claus brought me a typewriter (I just seriously dated myself, but stay with me for a second.)  I sat for hours in front of that sleek, black magic machine, pouring my imagination and my emotions onto paper. As life chipped away at my writing time, I made choice after choice that took me down a road where writing wasn’t a central part of my life. But, as my blog finds its footing, I am beginning to believe that my road could once again be paved with my words, leading me to a world where writing is more than a cherished hobby.

(just because I still like to paper my walls with pictures of my kids)

Hop on over to the Summer Blog Social for more advice, discussion about goals, and maybe a glimpse or two into a crystal ball!

Sleep Tight

He cries out in the middle of the night.  Instinctively, my eyes fly open, waiting to hear if the next cry is louder and more urgent or a softer whine indicating he’s on his way back to sleep.  Hearing need in his voice, I roll out of bed, my feet groggily stepping over the gate at the top of the stairs, counting stairs in the darkness.

I always offer water, but usually his sip is brief, a quick swallow before he buries his head into hollow between my chin and my shoulder.

His chubby fingers reach up, tangling into the back of my hair.  Out of habit, I sing to him, usually Baby Mine or Little Boy Blue, but I know he is ready to return to his crib when his grip on my hair relaxes, fingers still caught in the messy strands of sleep.

 

The four of us read together at bedtime whenever we’re all home, curled together on the big bed in Mommy and Daddy’s room before Dylan and I walk downstairs, pausing to say goodnight to Abbey as Ryan tucks her into bed.

Tonight, though, Dylan is inconsolable that tooth-brushing time is over, and I have to take him downstairs to read on the glider, kissing Abbey briefly, so she can listen to Fancy Nancy without hearing him sob.  After a few moments, he calms down, snuggling into his crib with his blankets and musical dog.

Climbing the stairs yet again, I open the door to my girl’s room, ceiling covered in stars projected from her stuffed turtle, always the violet stars.  Her smile beams up at me from her pillow, eyes sparkling, arms reaching up for a goodnight hug and kiss. 

prompt 1...

the simple things

their sleep habits are questionable, but they sure know how to melt my heart as they're keeping me awake and dependent on coffee

Camouflage

5.) On a piece of paper write down something that makes you happy…take a photo of your paper and wa la…there’s your post.

Lessons from Abbey

Cringing, I grit my teeth, biting back my annoyance as she digs in her heels, adamantly arguing that she shouldn't have to go inside.  The concept of time is still beyond her grasp, at least when it comes down to the choice between making dinner and playing with sidewalk chalk just a little while longer.  My impatience bubbles to the surface, and I'm hoping that our neighbors aren't listening to her tantrum.

I pause for a moment, remembering that she is just three years old.

Often, I forget how very young she is, and I have to stop and take in the softness of her cheeks and baby fineness of her feathery eyelashes.

Her voice is still childish and small, but her expression is serious when she tells me: "I would prefer to wear the pink shirt."

There's no hesitation as she grabs one of her toys from Dylan's chubby fist, but she is sincere when she reminds me: "Dylan's just a baby; he doesn't know any better."

She shyly answers back when a new acquaintance says hello, but her small hand seeks out mine, holding tightly until she is comfortable again.

At bedtime, she chooses a story we've read hundreds of times, but now she carefully cradles her doll so Baby can see the pictures.

Pushing limits whenever she can, she insists on making a detour through Dylan's side of the car, climbing into her carseat and buckling the chest strap herself.  Yet, when she's sad or tired or scrapes her knee while running in flip flops, she clings to me like a baby monkey, legs and arms wrapped tightly around my body.

Navigating her way from the life of a toddler to one of a child, she wavers back and forth between the two worlds, gracefully and seamlessly mastering some changes while stumbling with frustration on others.  Yet, she remains undaunted, pressing forward, reaching higher and higher.

Chastened, I think of the times I have doubted myself, afraid of moving beyond my sphere of comfort and familiarity.  I think of the times I have given up.

She does not give up.

She has so much to learn.

She has so much to teach me.

She is just three years old.

the prompt was to write about a child that inspires me

is it cliche to be inspired by my own daughter?

because I am, every single day

My Check-Off Challenge

Play bubbles   
   Follow a rainbow
      Take family walks after dinner
         Find a perfect summer lipgloss
            Make some Mod Podge crafts
Shop at the Farmer's Market
    Pick strawberries
       Buy corn at a roadside stand
          Run five times a week
             Catch up on True Blood
Sit on our patio swing and look for fireflies
   Play in a lake with Dylan for the first time
      Build a sandcastle
         Make homemade popsicles
            Run through sprinklers
Have fresh flowers on our table
   Eat dinner outside at least once a week
      Take a walk along the beach
         Go to an outdoor concert
            Visit the Toledo Zoo
See Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (both parts)
   Find (and buy) a pair of flat sandals I love
      Make a little playroom in the basement
         Organize the kids' closets
            Pick raspberries
Watch Singing in the Rain
   Take a spontaneous road trip
      Update my fun jewelry with a cuff or fun earrings
         Decorate Dylan's room
            Make a strawberry pie
Go to the Peach Festival
   Take the kids to an outdoor art fair
      Write something, anything every day
         Find a summer anthem I can happily blast with the kids in the car
            Remember to wear sunscreen every day
Use our grill more than once
   Make a fruit pizza
      Take the kids on the train at the zoo
         Go through Dylan's baby clothes
            Walk to get ice cream after dinner
Eat at an old A & W
    Paint my toenails (ok and my fingernails) bright blue
       Drink some icy cold prosecco on an outdoor patio
          Splash in puddles with the kids after a summer rainstorm
             Sit outside and look at the stars
Take the kids camping
   Go back to Lake Michigan
      Drink enough water
         Drive with the windows down
            Enjoy the heat (it won't be around for long)

 

50 things I want to do this summer

how many do you think I can get through?

is there anything special you're dying to do before Labor Day?

An Ode to a Pedicure

My feet cry out for comfort as we play in the park

These wedges better suited for a stroll after dark

Sometimes I wear flip flops, to give my tootsies a break

But there’s one fashion concession that I just can’t make

Crocs are for doctors and kids and gardeners

Though they're catching on, thanks to great marketers

I hear they make cute ones that don’t look like clogs

And they’d probably feel great on these barking dogs

I claimed that this summer I’d at least buy some flats

To chase Dylan around, going this way and that

I’ve seen some cute sandals, even some I adore

Though I still like my heels just a little bit more

I vowed to buy flats, and soon I'll be ready
  
But until then I'll wear wedges and wish for a pedi
 

Abbey loves hers

as she should

it took about thirty minutes to choose them 

Dylan loving his Crocs 

Abbey, Dylan, and Brendan rocking their Crocs

(Colleen not in Crocs)

Mama Kat asked about what fashion rules we do or don't break.

My Universe

our little family became my sun

Mama Kat prompted us to write a 6 word memoir

it's both tougher and simpler than it sounds

How Kids Changed My Summer Don'ts

1. Don’t wear shorts.

 Skirts and sundresses have been my summer staples for years, until this year. Chasing two kids around and over play structures made me break one of my cardinal rules. There’s a pair of shorts in my summer rotation this year. Eeek.

2. Don’t leave the house without putting on sunscreen.

Now I make sure everyone is wearing sunscreen, then put more sunscreen in my bag, plus keep a back-up in the car, and try to figure out a way to keep a hat on Dylan’s head that doesn’t involve some sort of adhesive. I’ve had my share of sunburns, and I’m doing my best to make sure my kids don’t have to deal with that.

3. Don’t skimp on the ice cream.

Instilling healthy eating habits in kids who throw any vegetable I try to sneak on their plates directly onto the floor is tough enough without introducing a sugar addiction in the form of creamy, delicious ice cream. Moderation is key here.

4. Don’t turn down the volume on your favorite summer tunes.

It’s easier to say that when your summer jams aren’t the same four songs from the Glee Soundtrack that your three-year old insists on listening to every time you’re in the car. Even Dylan is starting to sing along. Without words.

5. Don’t complain about the weather.

I dislike cold so much that it seems ridiculous to ever complain about the heat, but I’m not going to feel as fondly about those refreshing summer rain showers as I have in the past. I’m counting on lots of park and zoo days this year!

6. Don’t wear Birkenstocks or Crocs unless you’re gardening.

I still won’t be sporting those particular styles of sandal, but I might invest in a pair of cute, yet comfortable flat sandals that aren’t flip flops. My wedges are cute, but they aren’t built for speed, and I’m going to need all the speed I can muster to keep Dylan out of danger this year.

7. Don’t sleep in a tent while there’s a hotel in the vicinity.

I am breaking my camping boycott for the first time in years to take Abbey and Dylan on a one-night camping adventure with their friends Connor and Madison. I hear you can rent tents from REI. I wonder if they’ll just let us camp in the store and call it a day?

8. Don’t let your bra straps show.

I still think this is an important don’t. However, post-nursing, I can’t justify a strapless bra just on the off chance that a tank top strap might slip a little one way or the other.

9. Don’t get dehydrated.

Water’s still key to staying safe in the summer heat, but I’m adding snacks, a diaper, and extra wipes as mainstays in my purse. And a change of clothes stashed in the back of my car.

10. Don’t wear white before Memorial Day.

Hello? I have a three-year old and a one-year old. I can’t wear white EVER.

This post was prompted by Mama Kat's Writing Workshop.

In no way am I qualified to tell you what to do or not do this summer, so enjoy yourself any way you see fit.

The Flip Side

With our beloved Nan in town, the kids and I have been spending oodles of time hanging out at my parents and basking in the glow of great grandma time.  With four generations of women gathered under one roof, I've been thinking a lot about my relationship with my mom and my relationship (current and future) with Abbey.

I could write a sentimental post about that, but instead, I'm responding to Mama Kat's prompt: if my mom were a blogger. 

What would happen if I handed over the reins to my mom?

She would talk politics. 

There are political watchgroups that don't know as much as my mom about certain issues in government.  When we agree, I think we're both brilliant.  When we don't?  Well, I don't like to argue with her, because she brings up things I've never even heard about, and then I don't feel so brilliant anymore.

She would talk Michigan State sports.

Between my mom and Ryan, nothing that happens in East Lansing goes unnoticed.  While you might read about my love of tailgating here, you'll have to wait for my mom to guest post if you want to know about the ins and outs of recruiting and NCAA regulations. 

She would talk books.

My mom is the one who carted me to the library weekly and let me check out as many books as I wanted and didn't care if they were above my reading level or not.  Reading is part of my soul, and she is absolutely responsible for that. 

She would never, ever talk shopping or fashion or style.

She might have had her own parking spot at the library, but she didn't take me to the mall except for early Sunday mornings when she used the expansive, empty parking lot to teach me to drive.  Thankfully she let me have a Seventeen subscription in junior high or I might still be wearing electric blue Wet & Wild eyeshadow.

She would post pictures of my kids.  And tell stories about my kids.  And post more pictures.  And tell more stories.

I might think Abbey and Dylan are bordering on MENSA status and two seconds away from prestigious modeling contracts, but my mom is an even bigger fan. 

So Mom, what do you think?  Ready to try on your blogging shoes?

Dylan would read Grandma's blog!

Three is Frustrating

Don’t get me wrong; three is a fun and fascinating age (though I think all of their ages have been so very special in their own ways.) I suddenly have a little daughter instead of just a toddler.
But three is frustrating.

She is frustrated. One day she can zip her coat on the first try, and the next she can’t do it after thirty times, and there is no way she’s letting anyone help her.

I am frustrated. I want to help. I want to let her figure it out. I want to encourage. I want to be only ten minutes late instead of thirty-five.

She is amazing. She “reads” her books to herself when I am reading to Dylan, getting so many of the words correct, not from sight but from memory, after hearing them only once or twice.

She is frustrated. Dylan refuses to sit through anything much longer than Goodnight Moon.

I am grasping at straws. I’ve taken to giving dramatic readings of children’s stories, in the hopes that acting out The Cat in the Hat will engage both of them instead of just Abbey.

She is enthralled. She gets to pick her own shoes, and there are so many options. Sparkly, pink, purple, ties, velcro? (Pink Converse All Stars were the casual winners, bright pink patent leather to go with the Easter dress!)

She is frustrated. Mommy doesn’t want to buy the bright pink, plastic flip flops with the gigantic flower (for me, not her.)

Dylan is practically climbing out of his stroller. Who knew there were so many shoes in the world, and why does my sister need to see all of them?

If only they sold patience next to this season’s wedge heels. I’d buy some for all of us.


This post is in response to the Mama Kat's Writing Workshop prompt: What I lack . . .Because what I lack is the patience of Job. I’m working on it, though!

this was after about a million unsuccessful zippering attempts

she's half laughing and half mad, not crying

I'm not mean enough to find the camera when she's crying

Bait and Switch

Dylan tricked me.

 He torpedoed into solid foods with abandon, eating anything and everything I carefully spooned shoveled into his waiting mouth. Much more quickly than I could have imagined, he was eyeing the food on our plates, eager to eat what everyone else at the table was eating.

With only a smidgen of the caution I used with Abbey, I let him experiment with food beyond purees, smashing and cutting and slightly overcooking foods to be sure that he didn’t choke. I was relieved to discover he was thrilled with just about any food offered to him.

Like I said, he tricked me.

Toddler pickiness is settling in, and trying to figure out meals that don’t involve a serious amount of wasted food can leave me frustrated. I don’t want to fall into a mac and cheese rut, despite the fact that I am fairly certain both my children part mouse, as evidenced by the amount of cheese they’re willing to consume.

So, I decided to trick them.

While not the most original idea, I’ve taken to using food coloring and cookie cutters to con Abbey and Dylan into forgetting they don’t like what I’m serving.

For some reason, a waffle isn’t appealing, but a purple waffle is the bee’s knees. Pieces of any sort of meat are met with looks of disgust, but if I let Abbey eat them with toothpicks, at least a few bites make their way into her mouth.

Today’s disguised lunch used to be a turkey and cheese sandwich on multi-grain bread. Behold the transformation into mini-butterfly and mini-chick delicacies. I will never underestimate the power of mini-cookie cutters.

mini-cookie cutters sent to Abbey by our very special Aunt Carolyn

I ended up eating all but one of Abbey's blackberries

Dylan's were thrown to the ground within seconds

I guess I can't win them all

This post was brought to you by Mama Kat's Writing Workshop.  The prompt was "What's for dinner? I'm starving." (I figured: dinner? lunch? use a cookie cutter and you can eat it anytime!)