Dear Taylor

Dear Taylor,

You don't know me. And I don't really know you either. But I'm starting to get a feel for who you are, and I'm worried. I believe you had my phone number before me. I am assuming this because a lot of your friends still call and ask for you. And then most of them ask if I have your new number. Hmmm..

But Taylor, I'm just going to be honest with you. I think you're going down the wrong road and I think this for two reasons. First, I get a lot of texts with your number asking if I want to buy any weed. I don't.

Second, your cousin Steve and I texted for a while on Christmas Eve... he seemed to be reaching out, saying he was hopeful he'd see you around at some point during the next week when the family was all together. I was confused because I, too, have a cousin Steve and so your cousin and I had a discombobulated text conversation until I figured out he wasn't actually my cousin Steve. But I got the impression that your cousin Steve is worried about you and really wants you at family gatherings again.

My hope is that you got a new phone number so that you can turn your life around. Your friends can keep calling and texting me. Honestly, it's entertaining since I'm pretty detached from the whole drug scene.

I wish you well Taylor. Be good to yourself. Just say no to drugs. And call your cousin Steve sometime. He seems nice.

Sincerely,
Becca

shocking news

After almost four months of excuses, I finally clipped Ivar's finger nails. I have been downright phobic. I can't remember if I was present for or if I was just traumatized by the story, but my sister once clipped her firstborns fingernails and accidentally drew blood. Either way, I have been avoiding the clippers. Instead we have filed Ivar's nails, but this takes a lot longer and still left him with little razors on the ends of his fingers.

So today I picked up those baby clippers with great bravery and held tight to my little guys hand. And you know what? It wasn't that bad.

cracked shovel

We got another foot of snow on Sunday night. And then a few more inches on Monday afternoon. That's my car parked out on our street, lonesome and cold and waiting to be buried by the plows. Rory went out on Sunday to shovel and while attempting to throw snow up higher than his head while trying to clear our driveway, he felt a large muscle spasm in his back and slowly walked back into the house. Since then he winces when he picks up Ivar. It is not good.

So Monday I set out with my snow pants, our cracked shovel and a sunny attitude ready for some good physical exertion and fresh air. I removed the foot of snow down our steps and on our side walk and out to the street. It felt good.

A funny thing happens when you're shoveling your sidewalk though. Even though I had a cracked shovel, it was hard to stop at our property line. I don't know how I could do that in good conscience. Because my next door neighbor has two new knees. And next to her is a sweet older couple who I watch steady themselves to their car when they head out for errands.

So I took my cracked shovel and made my way up the street. I shoveled a path across my neighbors side walk and made it to the next house past hers that I've always felt belonged in The Shire. It's so adorable and charming. When I was shoveling the older couple's sidewalk who lives in this hobbit home, the husband stuck his head out of his front door and thanked me and told me his son would be coming a bit later to do the rest. I told him to stay put until he comes, it's icey by the curb.

He told me that on Sunday when he and his wife returned from church they both slipped in the street and he had to crawl up to his front stoop to use the railing to stand back up again so he could go back to help his wife get up.

Oh my word. You have no idea how many times I have envisioned this scene and how sorry I am that I didn't see it so I could go and help! I look out at his car all the time when I walk with Ivar past our picture window. He assured me they were okay, just shaken up a bit. I now look out that window every 30 seconds with worry...

Then I made my way to the back to shovel the drive there. I thought about how many times Rory and I high-fived in Omaha when the snow fell and we didn't have to lift a finger in our apartment. I began to wonder if everything has a way of evening itself out in the end...

Now I don't know how to really show this, but that picture above is our driveway. You step down three steps from the backyard to get to the garage and so we already have to lift our driveway snow up two feet onto the retaining wall.

But we have gotten so much snow this year, that the two foot retaining wall has now morphed into six or seven feet of madness. Honest to goodness, there is no place to put the snow other than on that growing mountain. Hence Rory throwing his back out has he attempted to catapult our snow over the lilacs.

My sunny attitude was now overwhelmed and I gave up at this point, deciding the only way this driveway (which has two foot drifts in parts!) is ever going to be cleared, is if we shovel onto a tarp, drag the tarp up the steps and dump the snow in our back yard. And just repeat that process 75 times.

Naturally we decided to wait on that project and watch the bachelor instead.

It does make me wonder though...wouldn't it be great if someone made a machine of sorts that would run on gasoline and in essence, throw the snow over that tall heap? A blower of the snow. Something that would make loud noises and would sounds like heaven walking down your sidewalk if a neighbor was so kind to clear a way. Maybe you could paint it red. And when you cleared your neighbors walk, the snow flying through the air would mark your arrival like a festive flag at the start of a parade and the noise would sound like trumpets to them because all they would hear is, "put that cracked shovel down! Go cozy up in your warm home! Because I'm your neighbor, and I have a... Snow Blower!!!"

Alrighty. I know I'm getting loopy now. Thanks for still reading. It's 3:43 and we're trying to help Ivar skip his 3:00 feeding so for the first 20 minutes of this post I was listening to my crying son. But he fell back asleep and now I should do that too... Thanks blog readers for helping me pass the time :)

a barnyard baby shower

Today we celebrated a little life-on-the-way. It was a super fun celebration for a mama-to-be and her baby who we are so excited to meet. I have to say, for the record, that I adore baby showers. I love having a room full of girls of all ages celebrating motherhood. There is something so powerful that happens at a baby shower. The preggers mama is affirmed and encouraged, older moms talk about when their kids were babies, younger moms bond over their shared sleep deprivation and all of the women swoon over tiny baby clothes, laugh about breast pumps and everyone eats lots of good food. I just plain love a baby shower.

Emily's shower was a barnyard theme based on their baby's nursery. I was put in charge of decorations and loved having the chance to get my creative juices flowing again. It had been a while.

I am posting a lot of pictures tonight so that Emily's family can see some shots from the event. They were snowed in today in Albert Lea (holy cats Minnesota! this winter is unbelievable!) and so they couldn't come to the shower. We missed them, but obviously the roads were and still are horrible. Hopefully these pictures will help set the scene:

Trudy gave a great devotional and then her girls sang a song about prayer. The whole shower centered on prayer and trust and faith. Have I mentioned yet how much I LOVE baby showers?!!

And here's the planning team with the mama-to-be. We're so excited to meet Baby Boy P!

baby photos gone wrong

Ivar and Stella's photo shoot.