Greased Lightning

Do I have a couple of Jersey boys, or what? 

 They look like a pair of street urchins in the above picture.

Street urchins with fauxhawks and touristy tee-shirts.

 In the elevator of a hotel the other day, a woman motioned to Finn

and said, "That's the only baby I've ever been intimidated by!"

Will announced: "Finny and I are going to school now. Bye-byyyyyye!"

"Do you guys not wear pants at this school?" I wanted to ask.

Happy Seventeen Months, Finnster!

Finn at seventeen months:

And in static form:

Well, that's about as static as Finn ever gets.

Here's Will at the same age (either heading into or recovering from a bout of bronchitis, I can't remember):

Dude, what were we FEEDING that kid? Whey protein powder supplements? 

He's a HORSE!

I'll have to dig up that Celtics jersey and put it on Finn for comparison's sake. 

And...yeah, I admit it, they do look a lot alike when I see them at the same age. (Give or take TWENTY POUNDS, holy moley!)

June Gloom

My grandmother passed away last Tuesday. Although she was ninety years old, it was still sudden. Mostly because hours earlier I had gotten an email from my mom saying she was doing better with each passing day and we should book our flight for Father's Day weekend. I still had the tabs up comparing various flight times when my dad called to say she had died.

Dave and I ended up driving with the boys to Ohio, doing two separate legs on the inbound and outbound trips. We stayed in Syracuse on the way there (spiritual homeland of my dear friend Lisa) and Buffalo on the way back for a total of 24 driving/rest stop hours and only 48 in Ohio. And this is the part that blows my mind (or the part of that still thinks I'm 22 and childless): I think it was easier than flying. No need to keep kids entertained in ever-winding security lines, no potential for late or cancelled flights, no battling traffic to get to Logan, no removing and reinstalling car seats on either end. When Finny sobbed and yelled "Up!" in his carseat, I wasn't worried about anyone else thinking we were awful parents or he was an awful baby--I just leaned over and reassured him (to no avail, of course) that we would be there soon, and slipped him some Motrin for his aching teeth--his final two are emerging, a lower incisor and a molar, and they're clearly knocking back on his heels.

Anyway, the funeral service was beautiful. The Episcopal minister knew my grandmother well, so it was personal and moving and delicately done. She read this poem by Mary Oliver to us as a fitting illustration of how my "Mom-Mom" looked at life:

When Death Comes

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox

when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,
tending, as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.

When it's over, I want to say all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.

I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

I adore that poem--not only for how lovingly it describes my grandmother, but also for how it reminds me about the importance of taking risks, trusting myself, living with purpose.

We didn't go in the pool; the water was too cold. We did many of the usual things we do at Grandma Bobbie's house, only sometimes taking sharp breaths when we remembered she wasn't there. I could feel my mind attempting to puzzle out the situation. We were there, but she was not. It didn't make any sense. She lived there for something like 57 years, raising five children, entertaining nine grandchildren and then six great-grandchildren. She lived by herself for thirty years: my entire lifetime. She beat pancreatic cancer in 1990, after her doctors said she had minimal chance of living five more years. She had no nurses or home health aides or live-in help. That's why it felt sudden; it seemed like she could just keep on going forever, at least to me.

This is her obituary. The picture of her is one from our wedding, which makes me love it all the more.

And I'll be back to blog some much lighter fare in a few days, most notably the pictures that accidentally make my boys look like castmembers from The Outsiders.

Pink and Ruffles and Glitter and Bows...

Emma Jean, born May 25th

Look at our new niece! Isn't she beautiful? I can't wait to spoil her rotten.

Barn Babies, Barn Babies, Here on the Field...*

Will is an animal lover of the highest order. Dave and I have had to coach him from an early age NOT to go nose-to-nose with every dog and cat he meets, and Will talks to them with Doolittlean ease: "Sully [our neighbor's cat], I'm gonna go inside and put on my Crocs, okay, Sully? I'll be right back."

So clearly we jumped at the chance to get to a Barn Babies event at a park down the street from our house. I told Will that if he loved Barn Babies (where you get to sit in pens with lambs and piglets and hold swaddled kittens in your lap), we could invite them to our house for his third birthday party in September.

I might as well put the deposit in now, right? Here are some other shots, including Finny and Will's "longtime" playgroup friends Abby and Connor.

*Whenever I hear "Barn Babies," I can't get that "Beach Baby" song out of my head. I definitely spent too much time listening to Oldies 103 as a small child.

Housewarming

Our housewarming party was over a week ago, and we haven't had a warm day since--forget about sun, I'm talking damp and chilly, all week--in the middle of May.

We're lucky to have some great memories (and accompanying photos) to cheer us up:

 Will jumped up and down every time a new guest arrived, sometimes running around the room for good measure. It's clear nothing pleases him more than being surrounded by people he loves (who love him back).

 Finny mostly liked the food.

 Riley, "Uncle Paul," and Connor

 Abby

 Ade and Natalie

("Natalie" has become a common noun in our circle, as in:

"I just hope my next baby's a Natalie.")

 Rylan nestling in with Nikki

 A scene from indoors

 Finny, again with food in his mouth

 Finn really got a kick out of Cousin Bella.

And Will got a big kick out of "driving" Uncle Mark's truck!

 (Mark, who is also Will's godfather, just moved up for good to join his family. Welcome home!)

The truck fanaticism didn't stop there. Somehow, BFFs Will and Connor found their way in, and they were pretty excited.

 Will said he wanted to share some cornbread with Auntie Lo;

this was not what she had in mind.

 Auntie Ceci with Brendan

 Auntie Rache (the biological auntie) and Auntie AlRo enjoying my homemade sangria!

 The Power family and Uncle Ryan catch up

 Bucket seat buds: Riley and Rylan

 The playgroup moms in attendance...plus Rick!

(Including Laurie and Susan, both far right)

 Our stone wall is irresistible to toddlers--here's Bill helping Catherine walk on it--

 --and Rick doing the same with Kenley.

Dave, Finny, and Uncle Ry

Finn conked out and elected to get some rest on the kitchen floor as the party wound down.

I noted that this photo was a nice companion piece to an image of me sleeping in the limo at the end of my bachelorette party. Oh, how times have changed!

Will decided to tickle a man when he's down.

Then he decided that if you can't beat 'em (up), join 'em!

Thanks to all our friends and family who made it out; we hope to host you as often as possible in the coming years. There's a standing invite to all those who couldn't make it, too, of course!