Brown Paper Packages

happy birthday

Happy birthday, Grampa!  Thanks for taking care of us these past weeks.  We all love you!

summer memories

It's warm where we are today . . . almost 70.  It made me think of summer and I thought maybe I should dig out some of the excursions we had this summer. 

August wanted to stay in a cabin by the Long Pine Creek for his birthday.  So we reserved a vintage cottage right up the road from the creek.  The cabins were originally built in 1926 and I'm here to tell you not much has changed!  You can see where the tiny kitchen area was added on, but that was a looooong time ago.  But we are always up for an adventure!

this girl

this girl.  this funny, witty, wise-beyond-her-years girl is now four.

and four, well, four suits her just fine.  four has a sense of her own style. four is my laundry girl and right-hand helper.  four takes care of herself and even her brother.  she loves playing with friends but still needs her own space by herself.  four is so very grown-up, you know.

but thankfully, four is still small enough to snuggle.  and still needs Nap.  and is content to spend hours upon hours coloring and drawing.  or playing with play-dough. 

four is creative. just as the other years were.  and will be.  creativity runs from her soul and sprinkles into her hands and makes every corner of our house sparkle with her color and lines.

just like she does.  this four.  this Ruby. 

oh my, how we love you, Miss Ruby.  happy belated birthday!

 

 

summer 2012 :: six

wow.  six came.  six came with two new teeth and a whole new level of thoughtfulness and Polite.  six made those dimples even more adorable and those jeans shorter. 

six loves drawing more than five and I never thought that would happen.  six decided putting one's head under water was really okay, and six wants to camp in the backyard.  independent, this six.  at least, more than five.

but six is still snuggly in the morning.  and six still likes to rock sometimes.  six cried because he did not want to get too big lest he no longer fit on his mama's lap.  (six's mama cried, too, at that.) 

six is kind and intuitive and sweet.  six is fiercely protective of his sister.  six is inventive.  six is just right.

birthday gifts from Sister . . .

six is august.  happy birthday, my first baby.  we love you so much.

 

 

sightings from our week

quite possibly the world's smallest active fire hall . . .

longhorns . . .

a sweetsy-weetsy, itty-bitty, baby pudder-tat . . .

this here little girl (and mama) that wants to bring the pudder-tat home . . .

only August would find a John Deere picnic table in a remote picnic area . . .

another nest . . .

my animal whisperer taking an interest in showing pigs . . .

happy birthday wishes for Daddy . . . we love you!

my girl

{warning:  this is a post with lots o' pics.  my baby turned three.}

Each year I ask myself how this outlandish craziness happens.  How do my children get bigger . . . and older?  And the baby?  The baby is not to get any bigger or any older.  

But somehow mine did.  Sigh.

one year ago . . .

. . . and now.

But oh, Miss Ruby, my little stinkerpot.  How much we would miss in the year that you grew. 

* seeing your beautiful drawings and colored creations

* listening to your silly songs and giggles that make us all laugh

* waiting for your snuggles in bed, and sweet kisses in the morning

* hearing your "dood mornin', mama"

* reading and reading and reading with you

* loving when you read to me

* watching you chase butterflies and pick flowers

* standing in amazement at all you know and can do

We love you, Ruby Eva.  And three is such a great age to be. 

Love,

Mama

 

postcards 3 {tennessee}

Someone turned three years old while we were in Tennessee.

She celebrated in style with a fancy party hat, a singing Opry lunch and a special bracelet from Brother.

(May I just mention that while you must be five to use permanent markers at our house, three is the year for glitter glue pens.)  

A proper birthday post will follow . . . as soon as I find my head in one of these suitcases and securely fashion it to my shoulders.  Maybe with glitter glue.)

 

 

a birthday poem

I celebrated a special day,

In January (not the month of May).

Every year, my cake I share,

I know not why I have alfalfa hair. 

 

The end. 

 

 

celebrating five years

This summer we celebrated five years of August M.   There are oh-so-many layers of August  . . . he wears many hats and each of them he honors with equal intensity.  There isn't anything my boy does not do with his whole heart (unless it's brush his teeth or make his bed, but I'm not sure anyone really does).

This kid loves four-legged creatures and anything with wheels.  His heart is tender and his soul quite giving - yet he'll stand up for himself and that Sister of his.  Cowboys and pistols, "putting food by for the winter", and writing are daily passions this summer as are "special days" and going out to eat.  (Could any child possibly love the experience of a restaurant dinner more than August?)  

I watch my boy as his love of letters and numbers blossoms and grows into signs, lists and notes.  I step over a deflated fireman, cowboy, princess and policeman as they lay in heaps, discarded from one act of play to another.  I marvel as he and I play the parts of nursery rhymes and childhood stories in the car - and then make up songs to accompany our fun.  I stand in amazement, watching a chid who is ever so attuned to the colors, textures and patterns of the world around him. 

And I am ever so grateful for our five years of August.   

this is what two looks like

 

Not so very long ago . . .

. . . this was my tiny baby.  I cuddled and kissed you - snuggled and fed you.  You were an ever-adorable babe.

And now you've had the gall to turn two, Miss Ruby!  And two looks like this:

Two says things like:

* Auggie take my yoader-tractor, no!

* Is this dang-rous, Momma?

* I'm a titty-tat!  Meow, meow, meow!

* I miss you, Momma!

* I hurt myself in the grabble.  I so sad!  I need a banya!

Two plays with play clay and babies and legos.  And two wants to ride a tricycle SO badly.  (Sorry about the short legs, baby.)  Two is a snuggler and two is a bright ray of sunshine on a gray day.  Two wakes in the morning in a cheerful and sweet mood, calling, "Momma, I up!  I need somfing to eat.  I need food in my mouf."

And two plays with four, you know. 

But I do recall when two and four looked like this:

Happy birthday, Ruby Eva.  Two with you is as amazing as the first day you arrived.  And it will be as amazing as all the years to come.

And now I'm going to bed.  Sniff.  (I may or may not sob into my pillow.)