What she said, and then, a story.

Mommy, your toes are big like napkins.

I'm not exactly sure how to take that. I'm sure she's used my toes as napkins a time or two, as she tends to use whatever is in a five foot radius when the need arises, and that is rarely ever an actual napkin. I'm thinking my toes wouldn't make the best napkins in the world, but certainly they are better than some things one might use as such. Like a knife. Or a gravel road.

Beyond that, my toes aren't particularly big. They are long. They come in handy quite often. Andrew is infinitely impressed by the chores I can accomplish with the help of my toes. I think somewhere deep inside he married me because he knows if we all lose our hands, we'll still survive, thanks to my great toe dexterity.

But, if we're just dissecting what she actually said, I think my toes are about the size of a napkin that a mouse might use.

And while I'm on the subject of pests...did I ever mention I think I married Andrew for the then unknown innate ability of mine to find a man who can protect his offspring by catching flies with immediately accurate precision? I'm pretty sure I sniffed him out for just that reason, and I have grown to appreciate it as one of his many marketable skills. If we was on the market. Which he's not. But I'm just saying. Ladies, I have a good fly catcher here. Takes care of the kids real nice, too.

And. One day a few years ago, when we arrived home from a trip over Christmas, we discovered a mouse had been enjoying the holiday feast that was our entire pantry. There was food everywhere. Holes in everything. So much so, we were sure this was not a mouse, but a whole entire mouse family with little mouse kids and grandparents and Sammy from next door who wanted seconds.

Alas, a mouse was so audacious to scurry right across the kitchen floor in front of us, under the refrigerator to where there is presumably a nice little mouse sized hole to the outside world. So what did my fly catching, rodent repelling husband do?

He waited.

With a cup.

And the mouse came back.

And he caught it.

Now, I don't know how familiar you are with the speed at which a mouse can travel by foot, but imagine trying to catch a fly with your bare hand as it buzzes by you. I like that example, because I'm sure the average reader can relate AND, he can do that, too. I happen to think both are quite impressive. In that Me - Cassidy, I pick things up with my toes, You - Andrew, you catch bugs, We make good, strong family for many, many years, kind of way.

So, with only a small error in accuracy, he had the mouse. It was under a cup, and said error of accuracy involved the mouse's tail, which was not in the cup. Eww.

I should also mention here that Me - Cassidy, was standing in a chair. My toes are good, but not mouse-catching good. And, I was squealing. So was the mouse. Squealing.

With the quick flip of a wrist or two, or something like that anyway, he had a magazine under the cup, and was hiking out in the woods that back up to our house to displace the mouse in a more mouse friendly environment, with trees, and water, and little mouse friends...presumably his aforementioned little mouse family, far, far away from our feast of a pantry.

We cleaned up the pantry, and set a trap.

Two days later, we had a catch.

It was a mouse. With a broken tail.

So you see folks, my big, huge toes are not needed for use by mice for wiping their mouths, and therefore, my daughter can use them when necessary. And my husband, well, like I said, he can catch just about anything, and that's why he caught me and my awesomely useful napkin-sized toes.

Same Spigot, Different Kid

For the past three years, we have stayed in the same house on Topsail Island. We've stayed in many homes on the island over pretty much my entire life, but we really like this one. It's a few streets back from the ocean, on a canal overlooking never ending marshland with beautiful tufts of grass and winding trails of water. There's a dock for fishing and crabbing and swinging, and it's just quiet and peaceful. A short walk or drive takes you to an access to the beach, and this spigot sits beneath that access bridge. Here are pictures of Hailey, enjoying the spigot our first year, at about 20 months old, and Keelyn just a few weeks ago, at 16 months old. I think I've mentioned before, it's almost as exciting an exhibit as the ocean itself.

Blood on the Dance Floor

I danced to so many Michael Jackson songs growing up, I can't list them all. I'm pretty sure Blood on the Dance Floor was my favorite dance we ever did to MJ. He was such an inspiration. I'm grateful to my dance teacher for cultivating an understanding of how superior his music and movement was. His music fills a dancer to the soul. I am so glad that I lived at a time when I remember so many of the groundbreaking things he did with his life, and what he gave to us as a performer, innovator, and master of many things.

I wasn't sure what I wanted to write about this day (or yesterday, for that matter), but I had to write something. If my kids read this blog some day, they need to know that this icon was a huge part of my life...and they've been listening to his music since they were born. Hailey has watched his dancing on YouTube (since the MTV of my generation, which he helped create, no longer exists). I cried real tears last night, and again today. Ones that are shared with so many people around the world. It seems he might have had more to give, given the chance, and that's sad. Then again, maybe we took too much.

Either way, the world could have used some more MJ. More dancing. More music. More lights and glitter. More inspiration.

Man in the Mirror...My very favorite.

A vacation. With Pictures.

Before you read this entry, I suggest you take a looksie back here, at what my babies looked like a mere one year ago. Because, oh my. OH MY. Last year, I wrote daily during our beach trip, as part of a month long daily blogging commitment I inexplicably made to myself. This year, I chose to sit back and soak things up. The daily captures were great. So was the recent soaking.
So last year, I had a vacation in which there was little sleep, lots of time spent finding shade from the sun, and much nursing from the comfort of a wet bathing suit on a sandy beach.
This year, I had a vacation in which there was more sleep, more sun time, and a wet bathing suit on a sandy beach worn to cover the tattered breasts of a mommy no longer nursing, but also no longer wearing a bathing suit with more than one piece of fabric. Unless of course, those extra pieces of fabric are used to layer and hide the under pieces of fabric, which are used to layer and hide the under pieces of a body once muscular and svelte, now floppy and stretched out. (Not that I am having body image issues or anything.) (The beach is about the worst place to be when you feel this way.) (Maybe one day I can work out again...when the kids go to college.) But the kids…I forgive them, because again…OH MY. This was a vacation in which we made memories.
A vacation in which Keelyn danced with her shadow daily.
In which Hailey taught her sister the ways of the beach.
In which I actually read an entire book in it’s full entirety from the whole entire first page, to the whole entire last page in only a whole entire week. And, it was not about raising children. And, it had no pictures. And, it was great...The Sex Lives of Cannibals, by J. Maarten Troost, if you're interested.
It was a vacation in which I ate entirely too many pieces of various forms of chocolate.

In which my husband enjoyed a warm cuddly nap with the second born every afternoon…something they are going to miss, I’m sure. In which we enjoyed small and big family time over and over every day.

In which we appreciated the time away from the difficulties of our current situation…focusing on the beauty of this Earth, and the perfection that is our imperfect family.

A vacation in which BOTH children actually slept (in various places and positions) until 7:45 one morning. (That's about 2 hours later than normal.)

In which Keelyn began to talk. Like really talk. With real words. Ones that made sense and got stuff done.

In which I experienced heart palpitations as my first born drifted away from me in a boat manned by none other than her daddy.

A vacation in which there was time to worry about nothing but finding a good pool for splashing.

In which there were sand castles, otherwise known as nice little seats for the kids.

In which Hailey collected every single shell on the entire island. Really. She did not discriminate. No shell was too broken. No shell was too small.

In which the girls discovered giggle time each evening with a peek-a-boo game from their beds while sharing a room. (What were we thinking?) (It was adorable.)

A vacation in which Keelyn fell in love with the ocean.

And Hailey rekindled her love from last year.

In which the girls were inseparable.

In which the pictures illustrate wonderful moments.

In which moments happened perfectly for pictures.

Hiding in the Shadows

Bet you thought I disappeared.

We were at the beach. All week.

I did not blog. All week.

I did not think about the things at home that are making me lose my mind...most of the week, anyway.

It was marvelous.

I promise many beautiful pictures and a story or two to come, but for now, rest assured that we are all living and breathing and well, as I know you were becoming concerned when it seemed I had forgotten how to use the Internet. I am familiar. It's like riding a bike. And so is sleeping, which I intend to do this evening instead of going through the 883 pictures we took in 8 days. That would be about 110 pictures a day, for all you math majors. Pretty impressive. It may take some time. And some Photoshop. And some thought.

For now, if you need to bask in the infinite sunlight that was our glorious beach trip and simply cannot wait until the next post, you can enjoy these pictures taken last year of two very different girls who happen to have the same names as the ones we traveled with this time around. The difference in a year is astonishing. One thing that was not different...we had a blast.

Bathroom Bonding

When you consider the size of our house, the master bath is pretty much the Pacific Ocean. If the builders had decided to make it a normal, functional size, we'd have square footage for, oh, I don't know, maybe a closet bigger than the white part of the fingernail on my pinky finger?

We've come to terms with this waste of space in numerous ways throughout the years, but mostly, it has become an extra place to store toys and play...because as long as the kids are closed in there with me and all their toys, I can take a shower most days, and shave my legs.

So many people ask me what I do to take a shower. When Hailey was little, she sat in the bouncer or the exersaucer, and when older, started collecting enough "bathroom toys" that we actually put a little crate in the bathroom so they could be contained there. When Keelyn was little, she'd watch Hailey play from the bouncer, and as she got bigger, they'd laugh at each other while she was safely tucked into the exersaucer.

Now they are both on the loose...and it proves to be more challenging. Something about me being separated from them by a thin panel of glass, screams, go wild and do whatever it is you know will make Mommy upset because you can, because she'll do anything to not have to get out of there before she's done! She'll plead, she'll bribe, she won't follow through with threats of time-outs, and she'll forgive you because she's clean! Most days, there is a lot more "Hailey, let go of Keelyn," and "Keelyn, Hailey's hair is not for pulling," than anything else. And then there's the incessant desire to unravel all of the toilet paper. Like most moms, I've learned to complete my shower in only a few minutes, and I try not to get frustrated with the behavior since it's usually coming from a loving place, despite the discomfort they manage to cause for one another.

But, on occasion, there is a day like today, and one day we had a few weeks ago...where they are calm, and cuddly, and quiet, and just in love with each other and the few moments of time they have to just be. I can relax, and I think we all feel refreshed when it's over. (They're not looking at each other here, but on this day, there was lots of kissing, and cooing, and rubbing...so precious.)

And, today, there was lots of singing and clapping and talking about our favorite things together. They sat this way the whole time, looking at themselves in the mirror. Hailey still loves to hold her baby big girl.

You should know, that not 30 seconds after taking that second picture, Hailey was dragging Keelyn across the floor by her arm, faster than her little feet can move, so that they could go pull clothes out of drawers in her bedroom. Hailey had good intentions of finding an outfit. Keelyn just likes to make the mess.

It'll drive you to drink

Each time we visit my mom, Keelyn makes it straight to the pantry in a matter of seconds. She loves to organize the Jell-O. (And, let's just pretend together that it is totally normal to accumulate this much Jell-O in one's pantry, okay?)
She really takes after Hailey, who has been an organizational buff since birth. I'm totally amazed that both of my children are blessed with such a wonderful gene...clearly inherited from me. But, I'm here to tell you first hand, carrying the burden of keeping things straight can be a bit stressful...
...apparently Keelyn is already feeling the pressure.

Oh- and of course a disclaimer:
No, Keelyn is not actually drinking that beer...the can is not open. And besides, I would never serve her such a cheap brew.

A Reality Show in the Making

If you've been sitting at your computer the past week, longing for my word-vomit, wondering where oh where that Cass could be, well, here I am. Peek-a-boo! Forgive me, I was recovering from an incident. One where someone dropped a bomb on us. A nice, quiet bomb, with a side of rudeness.

By someone, I mean Andrew's "partners." And by bomb, I mean Major Life Changing Pay Cut. By dropped, I mean handed over in manila envelope after friendly meeting about a restructuring project. And by partners, I mean not really how I define the word.

To be fair, the partnership was pending on a few things...all of which had been completed, upon which the things the partnership was pending on changed conveniently, at which point we should have turned and run the other direction before the economy shook things up. Hindsight. And, this, because we trusted people. People who apparently drop bombs.

And, it should be noted. The timing of said bomb-dropping is not exactly related to the economy. If it had been, I might have some compassion. But it wasn't. Which pretty much makes it worse.

So, in lieu of blogging last week, I was job searching. And in lieu of job searching, I was staring aimlessly at the computer, in a hopeless daze of confusion and random feelings of needing to hurl, mixed with intermittent zings of it will all be okay. Because it's always okay. And that is what you would tell your friends.

And by the way, I've discovered what I already thought to be true, but never had time to test...You can go a really long time between blinking if you think of something other than going a really long time between blinking...like if you think about cancelling your cable television, or downgrading your cell plan and kissing daydreams of QWERTY keyboards good-bye, or refinancing your car at a higher interest rate. Those things, friends, will leave you staring at your computer. Not blinking. And also not job searching. And also not blogging.

So I've decided to write about all this, at the risk of sounding like I feel sorry for myself, because I don't really. Maybe a tiny bit, but I'll get over it. I know things will get better...and I also know things are still pretty good. But. I feel stressed. I feel tired. I feel anxious and angry and sad and nervous all at once. I feel sorry that we suddenly might not provide what our children are accustomed to...and a bit guilty for that too. But. We are fine. We have a beautiful house, healthy kids, and plenty of love to go around. We'll work through it. We'll pray through it. We'll love each other through it. And we'll come out the other side with a different perspective, and hopefully, better off than before. And we are doing this among many other people in the exact same situation...many of our friends, even.

And, I have a plan. We'll call it Cass and Drew Plus Two. Reality networks, here we come! It's all shits and giggles around here...what with the tired parents and the kids overtaking the home and all. And people can laugh at me trying to tell my kids to turn down the volume, and criticize me for smothering them with attention, and make themselves feel better by seeing how messy my house is. That's what it's all about right? Everyone can even come over here and watch each week as the true lives of the real people in the real world unfold. Except you can't. Because apparently real people don't have cable.

Faces

Dipping in the arms of Daddy.

Cheese! Can you see me?Am I cute? I'm cute. Damn. Look at me.

My grandfather. My mother. Me... My child.
Okay, fine, I'll smile...but be quick or I'll run away...1, 2, 3, CHEESE!

Seriously? Bows? I asked for one. What am I, a doll?

Here I come!!
My silly face.