April Scrap

What Sweetness Looks Like

Love

I think they like each other.



Greta Laine (2.5)

This is what two and a half looks like.

Decked out in Mizzou gear, because she LOVES LOVES LOVES her Tigers and can't get enough of screaming "Z-O-U" as soon as she sees black & gold or any sort of Mizzou logo.

Hair in a half-pony tail because it's not quite long enough for a full one. She's pretty indecisive with the hair; as soon as she requests a "pony" and you put one in, she quickly decides she doesn't want one and proceeds to rip it out, along with a handful of baby-fine hair. Arghh.

Hands donned with recent Christmas gifts of hammer, saw and screwdriver (what, yor little girl didn't want a workbench with tools?!). Beware that she tries to use her tools to "fix" you.

A bloody lip from the night before when she was throwing a tantrum because she didn't want to eat dinner, and she wanted to run around the house with forks and knives. (Seriously). She worked herself into such a tizzy that she hit her own lip and busted it. The girl is DRAMA.

And two butterfly wings because she insists on it, and anyone who knows Greta or a toddler of the same age knows full well that you just don't argue with some things, lest you want the entire world to crumble that very moment. So, she wanted to wear both sets of butterfly wings, and I've learned that you pick your battles when it comes to dealing with power struggles between me and a two and a half year old.

She keeps us busy, that's for sure. But, like one of my friends said, "you don't want a 'duh kid,' do you?" And she's right. I don't want a "duh kid." I love that Miss G is a little pistol full of personality and spunk, and I love that for as sassy and snotty she sometimes is, she mirrors it with sweetness, cuteness and clever antics that win me over every time.

Scrappy Stuff of Late

Here's a hodge podge of some layouts I've recently made. Some are with newer photos, and then there's even some back from Greta baby days. I've quit scrapbooking in chronological order (after taking last year's Library of Memories class), and it feels so great to not feel the pressure to stay caught up. Although, I must admit, I am trying my best to scrapbook Teddy's first year in depth as much as I did Greta's. Trying, being the operative word. ;-)

Feeling Guilty

Greta is terrified of the vacuum. So, to get some time away, I'm upstairs vacuuming, knowing full well that she'll steer clear. Which means I get a break from the busy bee -- and some very clean carpets.

The Difference of A Year

It's funny. I'm still wearing the same size pants, and my hair is the same color and length. I've added no new words to my vocabulary and haven't learned a single new skill (unless you count wrangling a toddler AND a newborn).  My attitude hasn't deviated much. 

Unlike HERS which has gone from complete sweetness to a mixture of sugary, spicy sassiness. She's grown. She's no longer a baby. She was in a size 12-18 months at the start of the year, and she's now wearing a size 3T. Her hair has grown from the uneven baby 'do to a cute bob that can be worn in pigtails. Her vocabulary is in turbo-charge mode. She speaks complete thoughts and sentences, and she's continusouly amazing us with what a littler PERSON she's developing into. 

...

The biggest change? She's now a big sister!

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And this little peanut... At the start of the year, we didn't even know about him yet! Each month he grew bigger, and in late August, he entered this world, and our lives were forever changed. He's now 4 months-old and quickly approaching 14 pounds. He coos and smiles and laughs and melts my heart a gazillion times a day. He's absolutely perfect. If, on last New Year's Eve, you would have told me I'd have a son the following year, I would have laughed. I never imagined this, I never could have. But now, I can't imagine it any other way. What a difference a year makes. Indeed.

Merry Christmas from Heaven

This year marks the 11th Christmas without my dad. The holidays have gotten easier each year since he's passed, but those first several years were hard. 

On this Christmas Eve, I'm thinking of him especially, wondering what it would be like if he was here. I'd like to think that he would have had a full-grown gray beard like he always had this time of year (the better to shield his face from the brutal bone-chilling winds of duck hunting season), and I'm sure he would have lost a bit more of his hair and could have been balding on the top (more so than 10 years ago!). 

I'm quite positive that Miss Greta would surely give him a run for his money and wear him out with her constant playfulness, just enough so he'd get cozy on the couch and fall asleep while snuggling with his grandson Teddy. He'd be snoring so loudly that he'd often wake himself up, just like he did every other Christmas Eve.

Sometimes it's those simple little things you miss the most.

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When my dad died, our neighbors gave us a poem, and each year, I display it on my mantle. Here's how it goes:

Merry Christmas from Heaven
By: John Mooney, Jr.
 

I still hear the songs

I still see the lights

I still feel your love

On cold winter nights

I still share your hopes

and all of your cares

I'll even remind you 

to please say your prayers

I just want to tell you

you still make me proud

You stand head and shoulders

above all the crowd

Keep trying each moment

to stay in his grace

I come here before you

to help set your place

You dont have to be

perfect all the time

he forgives you the slip

if you continue to climb

To my family and friends

please be thankful today

I'm still close beside you

in a new special way

I love you all dearly

now don't shed a tear

cause i'm spending my

Christmas with Jesus this year.

...

Just several months ago, we lost a sweet friend, Molly McBride. On this Christmas Eve I reminisce about my dad, but I also can't help but think of Molly and of her little girls, her family and dear friends. And I hate that here are no words that will ever comfort or explain or define -- there's no poem that will ever mend their hurting hearts. I pray for them, that they can find strength to get through. Unfortunately, it's so easier said than done.

Ho Ho Ho

Last week we went to visit Santa.
Greta was skeptical. Teddy was indifferent.

Considering last year's experience with Santa Claus,
I'd call this year's a success.

One day, I'll blog again. Maybe.

It's been an emotional past few months,

and, truth be told, when I do have spare time,

and that is far from frequent,

I'd rather catch a quick catnap instead of write. 

Lately, I've felt like I've had a lot to say. 

So maybe I'll write soon.

If not, and even if so, Merry Christmas.

Hug your loved ones extra tight this year.

I will.

Something Recent

Since becoming pregnant (almost a year ago), I haven't had much interest in scrapbooking. Well, let me rephrase that -- it's not that I'm completely uninterested while pregnant; it's moreso that I'm not in the mood to tote around my scrappy stuff while cranky, hormonal and ever-growing. I just don't feel very creative when pregnant.

The other night, I mustered up the courage to produce something for submission for consideration as a design team member. Here's one of the layouts I came up with. It's nothing fancy, but I wanted to do something simple and quick.

I've got so many photos of this little guy, so I'm really hoping I get back in the creative groove soon so that I can start telling his story while it's still fresh in my mind.

Baby Smiles

Teddy.
Laughs and coos.
Melts my heart.