Reese Joslyn.
My youngest turned three last week.
When I was little I remember how time used to drag by. Each Christmas and birthday took eons to get here. A trip to the Champion Hills Department store was the longest drive when i was young. When my parents gave me an extra 15 minutes of playtime, it felt like freedom.
Now that I am.. ahem… older, time whizzes past. My wedding, then a baby, then another, then another, then another. Christmas, then birthday after birthday. Crawling then walking. Cooing then talking. Diapers then big girl pants. Gray hairs then wrinkles.
Where does the time go? Why does it feel so much faster?
I think Reese has all the answers. At the ripe age of three she contains the wisdom of all the ages:
1. Live right now. Taste. Feel. Breathe. Be. When you are young all that matters is right now. As you age you become acutely aware of time and of it’s passing.
2. Don’t be self concious. Get messy. Get sticky. Get dirty. Be naked. (I am not just talking literally here.) It’s hard to enjoy a 2 pound sucker when you are worried about getting your face sticky. You can always wash it off later.
3. Be grateful. For what you have right now. For what you feel right now. Appreciate it fully. Revel in what you have. Cuz life tastes so much sweeter when you do.
Thank you, Reese Josyln. My enthusiastic cascade of laughter. May you always help me to see things through your eyes. Pure and perfect.
We need 100cc’s of Ginger Ale! Stat!
And Ramen Noodles. And popsicles. And to make our couches into beds. And drag out all our pillows into our living room. And force all adults to watch cartoons. To keep the thermometer within reach AT ALL TIMES. And for my arms to get sore from rubbing backs.
Because this, my friends is what sickness means in the Neff House. It is a ritual we go through when each child shows signs of any illness. And yesterday we didn’t just experience one sick child, but three. Three children, all with the same complaints,: “Mom, my neck hurts.” and “Mom, my head hurts.” and Mom, my belly hurts.”. If you have children, then you should recognize these maladies as symptoms of strep.
So now we wait for the doctor to open his doors. A mere 10 minutes from now I will begin the calling to try to get through to a doctor’s office whose phone lines will be, no doubt, busy from all the other parents trying to get their children in to see him today. We will pray for favor. Amen.
Below you will enjoy picture of each ailing one.
First Reggie. Notice she is pretty excited about the prospect of getting to stay home. “Mom, do I get to stay home from school tomorrow?” She likes to see the glass half full. She enjoys what she can outta this experience. She is also an original child and has decided to mix it up with an additional complaint, “Mom, my one ear hurts.” She always has to be the best. (Over achiever. Humph.)
Reese, ah my baby. She was pretty upset about this whole illness thing. She acted as if someone gave it to her on purpose. Like we did it TO her. And she let us all know. Oh, the grouchiness that has ensued after the onset of the, “Mom, my neck hurts!” Oh, the grouchiness. But, oh, the change in her that was wrought with one dose of Motrin. Ah, Motrin. In my prayer time last night lifted up thanksgiving for the person who invented Motrin. It is in my humble opinion, a miracle drug. Thank you, God. Amen.
Keni, though reacts differently. She has a super immune system and never ever gets sick. (She’s like her Dad.) And when the day does come that her body submits to a germ, she is very disappointed. In herself. “Mom, what about my homework?” and “Mom, what about my test?” and “I CAN”T miss my test!” and “I will get in trouble!” and “What about my library book?” She runs through all the possible horrible implications of missing her schooling. The little brain just won’t let her rest. It is bad enough she is being tortured in body, but I think the mental torture she puts herself through is much worse.
She should embrace the situation. Like this:
The Tattooed Lady
I don’t know if you all realize this or not, but… I love Kraynaks. I go every year, twice a year. A holy pilgrimage, if you will, once at Easter to see the Bunny Land and once at Christmas to see Electric Christmas.
But horror of all horrors, we missed Electric Christmas. One delay led to another and the next thing you knew it was over.
Procrastination is never a good idea.
In an effort to avoid missing the upcoming Electric Holiday display, I loaded the kids in the van and we headed out, on Valentines day. For future reference, Valentine’s Day is a good day to celebrate Easter. No lines. At all. It was slow paced and dare I say? Relaxing.
The kids and I had a great time. And their joy was further compounded when my Dad gave them each 5 dollars to spend on whatever the wished.
At this point you may wonder what that story has to do with that picture up there. (Some of you may not be wondering, because you know me. And my pathalogical need to over explain things. Bear with me. Thank you.)
Well, Reese at the tender age of two is quite the bargin shopper. She bought a little wind up fuzzy white bunny that hops across the floor, a little blue basket to carry it in, and white chocolate bunny sucker, and a page of 100 Go! Diego! Go! tattoos. (I know! That’s a lot for five bucks, huh? My kinda woman.)
Anyhoo…these tattoos are the sole reason for this post. Late last night Reese applied a copious amount of tattoos to her little naked body.
One on each cheek. One on the back of each hand. One on the top of each foot, eighteen on her right leg, five on her left leg.
Then she moved on to others in her family, sharing a mix of her old love: Diego and her new love: tattoos. She tattoed each of my hands as well, and my forehead. She got Alina while she was in bed, one on each of her hands, then one on her leg after she fell asleep. Keni and Reegie also have thier fair share of skin art, and I think it’s would be a true thing to say that Chuck is the only construction worker who has a Diego Tat this morning on his arm.
So as the Neff’s go out into the world today we push the envelope fashion wise. Making a statement. Of our love for Reese and her love for Diego (and tattoos.)
We are nothing if not a trendsetting family.
Catching Up.
A massive tower built by Reggie. A proud moment. (Moments after this picture was taken it toppled.)
Keni’s big accomplishment this holiday? She fell and kissed the cement. In return the cement took most of her two front teeth.
Me after eating 8 days of Christmas goodies. Side note: Reese took this picture. Another Side note: My manicure? Press on nails.
Our tree.Which I love. It is so pretty. The girls decorated the whole thing themselves. I will be hiring out my little elves next year. Make your reservations now.
Rock Stars.
Reggie looking beautiful for her Christmas Program.
And Alina ready for her band concert.
Howdy Hollydays Pardner.
Our Lil Tumbleweed in her Christmas Program: “Christmas at the OK Corral”.
The whole posse.
Side note: Reese had a severe ear infection that night. We went straight to the school from the doctors office. She is such a tough cookie. And Keni had broke her two front teeth the day before her program. (Hence the metal mouth and huge sore on her lip.) My children, they are an adventure.
Simple Pleasures.
For Christmas Keni got a Barbie Jet. (Her joy is unending.) And Reggie and Reese got the box. (And a splendid box it was.)
Hope your Christmas was full of lots of ‘chillaxin’. (My new trendy word courtesy of the side ofBarbie’s Jet box.)
Turkey Day.
Pictured here you will find the turkeys.
Keepin It Real.
I was weeding the front beds and happened to have my camera when I caught site of this.
Here comes Reggie. What is she carrying in her frisbee so ceremoniously? Something of great value, no doubt. But what could be prized so highly by my offspring?
Ah… here’s the answer. It’s dirt. Look at the awe on my youngest child’s face. “Oooooo…..Dort……” She whispers. The respect for dirt is learned early here at our house. It’s obvious she is enamored with the display of filth her big sister has laid before her. Hmmm… what will she do?
Oh, I know. Let’s get close to the dirt. Let’s lay in it. Let’s roll in it. Let’s become one with the dirt.
Every 2 year old should know such pride. “Yook! Dort!” As she points to her dress.
Ah, her joy knows no bounds.
“I yuv my big sistor!”
Coach Cami.
Waa?
Coach?
Did you just read that right?
Was it a typo?
A delusion?
Nope.
I am,in fact, a soccer coach.
A girl’s U-10 league soccer coach.
A whistle blowin’. Offside calling. “Get your body in the game, girls!” Coach.
Here is my team: The Thrashers
And whose that beauty getting poked in the side? With one foot playfully kicked back in delight? Yep, my baby girl, Keni.
Keni is the reason I am a coach this season. A cleats wearing. Team roster writing. Sweaty eyebrows. (that’s right folks… sweaty eyebrows) Penalty calling coach.
The big surprise tho? I love soccer.
I am still learning the rules of the game, the ins and outs of it all. But I love it. The game is awesome. The action is non stop. The girls have a great time. I get a little exercise. (Did I mention my sweaty eyebrows?) And it’s all over in under an hour.
You can’t beat that, people.
Well, you can. But let’s not go there now. We’re talking about the kids here.
The only downside? I have to Ref a few games.
Now, being a Ref? That stinks.
Not the kids part, mind you, those guys are great.
But the parents. And whew! The other coaches. Let’s just say, they are just not well mannered citizens when I blow or don’t blow the whistle.
But I am willing to look the other way.
For the love of the game.
