Slice of Life

The Many Faces of Shelby

For those who were present during the first year of Shelby's life, it was understood that she was not the most expressive child. If freeze rays could have shot from her eyes at all the strangers who approached her...well...let's just say there would have been some casualties. There weren't many frowns OR smiles. The gaze with which she solemnly took in the world only changed in intensity level when the aforementioned strangers approached with intent to touch. Then, on one non-descript day, she awoke. She spoke in sentences, and the once frozen features burst from their constraints. Here are only a few as my blog only allows me to upload five (boo!).



"Don't-take-me-home-from-Nini's"






"The Instructor"



"Glazed"






"Disapproval"






"Sweet love muffin"-Ok not really a face but work with me here.

Good Times at the Rodeo

The picture really says it all.

Easter, Part II

Well, this captures it. I love my baby boy!



Question: Great picture or greatest picture ever? I vote the latter.



Hmmm...guess that granola bar had a few chocolate chips in it.



Woohoo! Showin' the old form pops! No wonder the Ags were champions in the old days.



Wyatt, my extremely low key and contented child, throws a fit when you remove him from the swing. Who says language is necessary to communicate?

Easter, Part I

Can't make this bigger, but it is such a cute pic w/ Mema and the great grand kiddos



Do not be deceived by the cute expression. See previous photo.



How much do I love this sweet photo? Let me count the ways...



Third Easter egg hunt this year and yet the joy never diminishes.



Scoping out the loot.

Happy Birthday Wyatt!

Hope you had a thuper thuper birthday thweetie!

Crying

Well, it's official. I am becoming a crier. I used to sit through shameless tear jearkers like "Titanic" with only slightly moist eyes (unlike the Beluga surfacing in the seat behind me-pull it together honey...Jack and Rose are not real). Even Hallmark commercials glanced past my armor.

Then I gave birth.

Now I find myself unable to stop feeling.

I sobbed at news footage of the shooting at Virginia Tech. Those were someone's children.

I sobbed at the news that my sister's pastor's son drowned at only 18 months old.

And yesterday, I was unloading the dryer full of onsies, blankets, and previously tinkled on sheets when it side-swipped me.

The smell of my baby's laundry.

My throat began to close and the living room became blurry. Women always warn me to treasure these days because they are gone soon enough. Here I am crying because I know it is true. I can't trap these days and jar them to release their aroma years later with my wrinkled and shaking hands.

But someday, when my kids are busy texting their friends or off at soccer practice, I will walk by a young mother and a small whiff of her baby will send me back to my living room, wearing pajama bottoms, carefully folding the tiny clothes in my hands as my one year old shakily pulls up on my leg and my three year old attempts to dress herself and the dog.

So yes, I am a crier now.

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leafs a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
-Robert Frost