I couldn’t resist popping in to share these Princess Bride inspired posters. That movie is THE Ulmer family favorite. Why else do you think my brother is named Wesley, if not to fulfill my mother’s dream of having a woman one day claim, “My Wesley will come for me,” about her son?
You think we’re kidding.
More brilliant posters here. I am seriously debating getting this tattooed on my wrist.
“A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2013.”
Sunny: Struggles with these dark, grey mornings like her Mama. We snuggle into flannel-coated comforters and let the dim light outside our window slowly bring us to consciousness.
Kaki: She pulls back her shade while lying on the changing table, eager to greet the new day… so curious and fascinated by everything that moves beyond that window.
More details about The 52 Project here. My first post of the project here with explanations as to why I’ll be capturing the portraits in the early morning.
This morning, we fly south. So long, cold, grey days! See ya in a week! I’m looking forward to a much needed boost of Vitamin D.
We’ll be staying with James’ parents in the Keys for a few days, and then I’ll be headed to Miami for work meetings and events. I’m thrilled that we can turn my work travel into a family vacation, but don’t think for a second that I haven’t been panicking about the commercial flight, with both children. Namely a certain second born. Now that I’ve known that there are reputable services like this Jettly which can best help me book flights, request specialty foods, and arrange ground transportation, so I have nothing to worry about!
I may have stocked my carry on with Cheddar Bunnies, Pirate’s Booty, Apples… M&Ms, Fritos, Lollipops. HEY! I will stoop as low as I have to to keep that child’s screams to a minimal holler. I have no shame in stuffing her full of junk food to keep her content during the trip. Lollipops and apples were recommended because they take a considerable amount of time to eat, so hey, we’ve bought ourselves a whooping 15 minutes of silence.
WOO!
In other news, our DNA test for Hanna came back and the results? She’s part Lab, part Greyhound.
HA! Ha ha ha ha. Have you seen Hanna?!
She is many things, but a Greyhound, she is not. My father suggested we pen a children’s book about “Hanna, The Greyhound” to address body image issues among the younger crowd. I like the sound of that.
Conclusion: Those tests are about as accurate as having Courtland identify her head from her butt. (Note: She’ll smack her forehead while slapping her bum, simultaneously).
Also, last night, while James was locking the hens in the coop for the night, he was greeted by a possum sneaking around the barn looking for a tasty egg or chicken thigh. Naturally, he killed said possum with a shotgun to prevent the demise of our flock.
Now if that ain’t the most country thang I’ve ever said, I don’t know what is. As Kaki’s FGM commented upon hearing the story, she won’t worry about us until James skins the possum and wears him around as a hat to work. We haven’t drunk the country Kool-Aid to that extreme… yet.
I’m glad to know that our feathered friends will be safe while we’re away. Posting will be light for the next week so I may fully enjoy the sun and the break from my desk with the family. Our new camera just arrived, so we’ll get to really break her in while away. Many photos and stories to share upon our return. xo Ash
9,200 photos, selected down to 15 minutes of video. It’s long. James and I will probably be the only ones that make it through all five songs. Yes, five! A whole hand’s worth of songs! We’d only budgeted for three but the photos kept coming and the story of our year somehow could not unfold without FIVE songs to carry us through. Excessive? Yes! Our style? Arguably, given that we’re just shy of 10,000 photos to represent 365 days.
And I totally take back the comment that only James and I will make it through. Hi, Momar and Doda! Enjoy!
It’s such a treat to go back through our year and select our favorite images for this project. They’re not always the best photographs, but each image represents something special, happy, meaningful, celebratory, or significant to our family. We’re not just highlighting the holidays and the milestone moments, but the joy of the everyday. The impact of a blurry iPhone photo capturing my two little girls beaming in each other’s arms one ordinary Monday afternoon. That’s what I want to be reminded of years from now when my own memory has merely strung years’ worth of ordinary Mondays together into one blurry mess. I want to be able to reflect back on that particular ordinary Monday and be reminded that that is the stuff of a life well lived.
Many thanks to James for compiling. We do make a pretty great team, eh babe?
Songs include:
“The Ancestor” by Darlingside
“Stay Stay Stay” by Taylor Swift
“Everybody” by Ingrid Michaelson
“Ho Hey” by The Lumineers
“Only You” by Joshua Radin
ear Courtland,
I’m sure that you’re mighty frustrated that you cannot read these words. Nor understand them when I read this to you this evening. Frustration is a key sentiment in your emotional vocabulary these days. Its roots lie in our inability to understand your every demand and desire. We need you to find your words, English words, and fast, before this entire house collapses under the weight of your stomping, flailing feet and body hurling itself to the floor.
You have a language, my dear. Just not one that we understand. Often times, that’s more than okay, and you contentedly babble strings of garbled syllables together and we talk right back to you like we comprehend every “bah dah dat!” But other times, when you are feverishly trying to communicate your current plea, and Daddy and I are not picking up what you’re putting down, well, we very quickly see a transformation from babbly, smily, happy toddler to furious, tantrum-throwing, fire-breathing monster. We’ve taught you more sign language than we ever taught Sunny because you are much more particular and insistent and require an ability to more specifically and immediately communicate your needs. You’ve mastered “more,” “please,” “thank you” (which usually transforms into abundant air kisses), “up,” “down,” and “finished.” Finished is by far the most adorable sign, as rather than turning your hands and wrists from side to side, you merely fold and unfold your fingers into fists with your arms lifted high above your head. And oh, I die and go to toddler heaven every time.
You are Independent. With a capital I. You not only want us to understand and meet your every whim and fancy, you want to do almost everything for yourself, by yourself. If we dare try to feed you dinner, you throw your head and shoulders back over the edge of the highchair, lips clasped shut, before furiously shaking your head back and forth. Daddy commented last night that he doesn’t remember dinner being quite so messy when Sunny was this age. And it’s merely because you feed yourself every meal, and due to the limitations of 17 month old dexterity, a decent portion winds up on the floor, or Ursa’s head, every day, three times a day. But, man, you wield a spoon better than any soon-to-be 1.5 year old that I’ve ever seen.
You love playing with your baby dolls. You drag them around the house by random appendages, stopping to cradle them in your arms, while cooing “Awwww” and bestowing sloppy toddler kisses on their head. You pretend to feed them food from the kitchen, making smacking and slurping noises with your mouth to imitate their eating. Then you smother them in piles of baby blankets, tucked on random cushions or floor spaces that you use as make-shift beds. Primarily because your older sister is having a tough time sharing the doll bed that Santa Claus bestowed on our household this Christmas. Trust me when I say, that despite your frequent bickering and screaming and grabbing at one another, you are each other’s favorite people in the whole wide Universe. Sunny informed me last night that you were her best friend. And I quite agree with that statement.
Also, an -ism that is so distinctly you that your Daddy and I discuss often is the way in which you grunt and strain and moan and groan whenever you pick something up, or help me with the laundry, or carry something to the trash. The most minute of physical exertions is met with loud, deliberate “Uuugggggghs!” and “Ohhhhhs” like that of a very out-of-shape, older man. It is adorable. Don’t ever change.
The most delightful, most endearing, most delectable thing about you, darling girl, is your effusive and affectionate personality. You bestow kisses and hugs unexpectedly, with an uninhibited freedom and air that I envy and I hope you never ever lose. If you are feeling like you want a kiss, you’ll stop me mid-conversation by grabbing my face and planting an open-mouthed, slobbery wet one right on the lips. Then you smile wildly and nuzzle into my chest. This weekend, when you were wide awake at 4 in the morning, I had you nestled in bed with me and you repeatedly pulled your face up to mine to kiss and rub noses and well, smart, my love, very smart indeed. How could I be annoyed when such sweetness was being showered upon me?
You are a toddling paradox, my Whaley girl. And I so admire that about you. It keeps us on our toes and it keeps people guessing. As you get older, you’ll learn what an invaluable asset that is.
Happy 17 months,
143 Mama
46 Reason My Three Year Old Might Be Freaking Out
I’m weeping at my desk (with laughter) because, TRUTH!
#47 She can’t play in the snow in her party shoes and sundress.
Thanks, Meg, for the hat tip!
Her: What about tights and leggings and socks?!?!
Me: That’s a pretty crazy idea.
Her: Let’s do it, mom!
Me: Do you think your shoes will fit with socks AND tights?
Her: We’ll figure about it tomorrow.
Note: Socks AND tights did indeed fit in her Converse kicks.
Also, she requested that her photo be taken in her pajama get up. As she changed into her outfit for school, I discovered that she chose to wear 5 pairs of underpants, layered one on top of the other, to bed. Along with three undershirts layered under the pajama set and nightgown. The girl is a layering machine. Like Mama taught her.
One of my gifts to James this Christmas was a piece by Jimmy Marble, an L.A.-based artist whose canvas banners I’ve coveted for some time. It now hangs framed in the girls’ playroom. An important reminder for the big and small in our house: TIME COOLS ALL JETS.
1. She who does not sleep through the night endeared us with the snuggles one very late evening this weekend.
2. My Black Beauty
3. Playing with stuffed animals while Mama snaps portraits.
4. Works for the toddlers and preschoolers alike.
5. My girls have no idea how lucky they are to claim these two dogs as their own. Such amazing companions. I cannot imagine raising children without a house filled with dogs. How I love our loyal beasts. Editor’s note: James’ parents gave us a genetic testing kit for Hanna this Christmas, so in two weeks time we should know of what our wacky bologna-tongue is made. I’m betting that Corgi is going to be the wild card breed that surfaces. That and Newfoundland and Labrador.
As my friend who emailed me the link to this post said, “I can imagine you referencing it if someone were to ever challenge you for giving the girls pink tutus and black converse in the same breath. After you held yourself back from knocking their head off, of course. ”
Yep. That.