I didn’t mind the snowstorm much at all. It was a minor inconvenience, combined with a bevy of benefits. My husband at home for a few extra days. Family play time in the snow. A little girl’s first snowman. Soup with grilled sandwiches. Hot chocolate (Gem would be sure to verify that her’s [...]]]>

I didn’t mind the snowstorm much at all. It was a minor inconvenience, combined with a bevy of benefits. My husband at home for a few extra days. Family play time in the snow. A little girl’s first snowman. Soup with grilled sandwiches. Hot chocolate (Gem would be sure to verify that her’s was “warm”). Days packed with guilt-free snuggle time and togetherness.

Until my internet went out. Then it got personal.

Oddly, up until I noticed the outtage, I’d spent little time online. But in the hours, minutes, and seconds that have creeped by since that devastating discovery, I’ve thought of little else. We are all safe and well. We have electricity, heat, water, stockpiles of food, and an ever-deepening wonderland of snow and ice outside. It doesn’t matter.

I’m not connected.

I cannot share my every passing thought on facebook. I can’t pin pictures of food I will never cook, and clothes I will never wear. And since we dropped cable in favor of using the internet for tv, we might even have to break out the boxes of dvds that have been gathering dust in the closet. Even my phone is on Roam.

I’m quite certain I’ll weather this trauma just fine, and I’ll try not to spend my time counting the moments till I can post this message. In the meantime, I hope you are all safe and sound, warm and dry, that your problems are more frivolous than substantial, and that the storm leaves your homes and loved ones unscathed.

She offers up snowballs as precious gifts, then tosses them up in the air like so much confetti, squealing and laughing as the snow tickles her face.

And when she catches a snowflake on her glove, she blows it away, and [...]]]> It’s not her first snow, but perhaps the first she remembers.

She offers up snowballs as precious gifts, then tosses them up in the air like so much confetti, squealing and laughing as the snow tickles her face.

And when she catches a snowflake on her glove, she blows it away, and says “make a wish.”

I have no idea where she got that from.

She made her first snowman

And she set about playing as though it was her most important work

It is.

Even when seasoned with whimsy.

Sunday, she asked if Santa was going to come back, now that it snowed, so that he could have Christmas in the snow.

Her favorite toys laid out on a piece of pretty wrapping paper

Carefully wrapped

and topped with a pretty bow…

Berry Christmas, Mommy!

presented with both hands and a proud, beaming smile

It’s not just her toys. She’s used this one piece [...]]]> She still has the Christmas spirit.

Her favorite toys laid out on a piece of pretty wrapping paper

Carefully wrapped

and topped with a pretty bow…

Berry Christmas, Mommy!

presented with both hands and a proud, beaming smile

It’s not just her toys. She’s used this one piece of paper to gift me with a book, a deck of cards, a shoe, my cell phone, the remote, and a dirty fork. But she has discovered the joy of giving.

The other day, she started our day at 6 am, by saying “adventure makes me happy, and I have my shoes on.”

I’ve always known she was adaptable, and maybe even adventurous, and [...]]]> Every once in a while, my daughter says something that makes me look at her in a whole new light.

The other day, she started our day at 6 am, by saying “adventure makes me happy, and I have my shoes on.”

I’ve always known she was adaptable, and maybe even adventurous, and she’s happily rolled with the punches of every upheaval we’ve thrown at her, family illness, new home, road trip, frequent changes in routines…

But this time I saw another dimension. Not only is she adventurous, she’s a go-getter, she doesn’t wait for adventure. She’s got her shoes on, and she finds adventure everywhere we go.

The park is full of adventure, leaves, things to climb on, trails, squirrels to chase, and even in winter we can usually find a flower. The grocery story is full of colors, and signs with letters and numbers, balloons, magazines, apples, brownies, and the greeting card aisle can entertain us for hours.

Even the commute on those days we drive Aaron in to work is full of adventure, cars, trucks, signs, buildings, sometimes we can see an airplane take off or land as we drive by Boeing, and some of the trucks have letters and pictures on them!!!!

Life is just so full of adventure.  It’s wonderful to go somewhere new, but if you’re willing, you might even find a little adventure in your own back yard.

I saw a homeless woman with brown teeth grinning at my little girl.

*Stranger Danger* [Insert helicopter-mom posture here]

Seriously, what was I afraid of?  Their exchange was completely innocent, and grounded in sharing joy. There [...]]]> She saw a woman with kind eyes and a big smile who was happy to play peek-a-boo with her.

I saw a homeless woman with brown teeth grinning at my little girl.

*Stranger Danger* [Insert helicopter-mom posture here]

Seriously, what was I afraid of?  Their exchange was completely innocent, and grounded in sharing joy. There was a full table width between them. Why the fear? Why did all my red flags go up? Am I really that shallow?

When we talk about listening to our gut, how do we know the difference between intuition and prejudice? Bigotry can feel a lot like instinct.

I consider her again as my daughter continues to play peek-a-boo and talk to her. She’s warming her hands around a cup of tea in a Pioneer Square coffee shop. Her clothes were tattered, but appeared clean. The coat had seen better days, as had her shoes. The clothes in the bags around her feet were faded, but neatly folded…

Oh, good grief. Really, Judy? Is that the best you can do?

I had to look back a couple times before I saw not what, but whom my daughter saw: A woman with kind eyes and a big smile who was happy to play peek-a-boo with my little girl.

I’ve got a lot of learning to do.

.

This is the story of how I became an on air radio personality.

Ok, it’s not. I’m not.

It’s not even about me.

This is a story about Debbie Cantwell, and the non-profit organization she started on her kitchen table, all by herself, to help young women with breast cancer, like me.

I never imagined I’d be the kind of Mom who let my little girl play in a mud puddle in the middle of a Seattle street.

Yet here we are…

Don’t underestimate the value of mud puddles.

As of yet unscathed by corporate interests

I love getting pictures of my little girl out in the wilderness

she looks so fragile, buffeted by the wind

of course, there’s the obligatory ”Little House on the Prairie” shot

This is what happens when she picks out her own clothes.  Mama’s just trying to stay out of her way.

Yeah, you wish you could pull this look off.  ;)

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And Stasha, I’m submitting this to [...]]]> My little girl is starting to exert a little influence over what she wears.

This is what happens when she picks out her own clothes.  Mama’s just trying to stay out of her way.

Yeah, you wish you could pull this look off.  ;)

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And Stasha, I’m submitting this to listicles this week even though it’s not a list; just because of the yin yang topic.

tee hee

Poor daisies – loved to pieces…

but loved by the sweetest little girl.