Posts from the “Love” Category

Out of My Control

Posted on January 25, 2015

Last summer we visited a farm in Yakima. There were goats and cows, geese, chickens, horses, ponies, bunnies and quail. The girls poked about completely undeterred by the smell or the heat. Finley picked up a quail egg that had dropped. She looked up at me, the egg cupped in her hands, “Fix it, mama. Help the little baby.”   Parenting is so much like that, parents further along the path know how many times they won’t be able to fix it, people on a farm know that life begins and ends every day. “Oh, sweetie, I can’t,” I said. The older brother of the boy she was standing with said, “Wanna eat it?” I flinched, Finley’s eyes grew wide, then she shrugged and said, “Not really,…

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Bench Seats and Marriage

Posted on November 21, 2014

I was driving into work, the defroster melting the last bits of frost from the windshield, and the sun shining from the east as if to further the process along. I rode in silence, the air so cold my eyes watered. My mind was blank, deliciously so. I watched the blur through the window, happy to be awake. Quietly I began to think about setting an intention for the day. I felt sheepish, what good could setting an intention do anyway. I make lists all the time, the writing of the items doesn’t make them get done any quicker, if anything it just feels as if it puts my failure to finish in bold. An intention, Amanda. What is my intention? I licked my lips and…

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On Losing a Pet & Loving Again

Posted on November 12, 2014

I didn’t know when, or how, but I knew the day would come when the need to fill the hole left by Mae, our amazing kitten. The girls are sensitive and intelligent, often comprehending things in ways that I almost wish that they wouldn’t at their age. Along with the dolls and karate classes, I wish that I could offer some measure of oblivion to pad their all too brief childhoods. Mae’s death blew the doors off the idea of having anything more than a suggestion in the grand scheme of how life goes. I tried to do things in the days and weeks that followed her  abrupt passing to carve out special time to try new things with the girls. As we passed the year mark of when we…

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A Photographer is Coming

Posted on August 2, 2014

We flew to Washington to in July.

My mom said, “You don’t have to do anything. Seriously, totally going to be about pool time and relaxing.”

“Great, that’s all we want.” I said.

Then she said, “And just one thing, there is photographer coming Thursday night to take pictures.”

It became a bit of a running joke. My sister and I are easy going and willing to do just about anything mom asks, but neither of us are what you’d call at ease in front of a camera. Luckily the photographer that my mom had come over was a genius when it came to making us all but forget she was snapping away. Her name is Jen, if you are ever in WA state call her.

This is us looking happy and just delighted with life. We were and that it’s preserved here almost makes me cry.

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“I just want my children and family in one place,” she always says. We were and she beamed.

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“Now with Sean, Sean should be in here.” He joined and brought shenanigans.

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She said, “Get the girls in the pool.” Done

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Papa said, “Ok, girls, come with me. I have an idea.” He blew their minds.

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“Amanda and Sean, get Amanda and Sean.”

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She took a few different shots of us & said, “Great, got it!” We started to walk toward the deck, he pulled me close. “I love you.”

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“Are you? You are aren’t you? Fine, you’re coming too,” I warned as he pulled me toward the pool. He shrieked & started to fall.

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We went in.

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The girls joined us.

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It was the perfect thing! Thanks Jen, mom, Papa, and Ab.

Autumn Beckons Again

Posted on July 29, 2014

Funny how year after year, autumn laps at my toes long before it seems it should arrive. This morning it came with the first sip of my coffee. Memories of bringing Briar home washed over me and I was back at our first house, the light through the window and the smells around me all from 2004. Reposting this from three years ago.    I’m five and heading off to Harris Elementary School to meet Miss. Thompson. I’m eleven and figuring out what separation and divorce really mean. I’m thirteen and poring over Seventeen Magazine, devouring how Jennifer Connelly, fresh off Labyrinth, is mixing plaid and tweed. I’m fifteen with butterflies thinking this is the year I’ll stop being awkward. I’m eighteen and leaving…

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