Because there's nothing worse than reliving other people's vacations, right?

Though we've been home from our trip to Boston for almost a month, I am finally getting around to editing the pictures I took there.

Why so long, you say?

Well, for one thing, I had eight corporate head shot sessions and a private family session that I did while we were there. Not to mention the 2-3 sessions per week I've had since we got home. Staying up until midnight every night editing does not necessarily entice one to want to work on pictures that no one is paying for.

But as I looked through them, it really brought the trip back and made me so happy that we went. Like this picture, for instance, taken on the top floor of Faneuil Hall.

You know, the top floor where there is a museum.

Which I never knew existed during the six years we lived there.

Frankly, because there was no way I was hauling a stroller up three flights of stairs to have one of my children break something historic again. So in all that time, I never once ventured to the top. Which is quite sad. Because honestly, they don't make light this gorgeous just anywhere.

I also discovered this photo hidden in the mix:

Which tragically (or luckily, depending on your point of view) is one of three pictures taken of me this whole year. We were walking the Freedom Trail and paused to rest in the courtyard outside of the Old North Church. I set my camera down on the bench beside me, relieved to be free from the 900 pound weight that it is, and McKay picked it up and started snapping. Granted, there are a lot of very blurry pictures of his feet and Chase's face, but this one really stood out and made me happy.

And we have several token touristy photos in the bunch, as well. Which really are photos only a mother (or grandmother) could love.

But I will end with this one, which might be one of my favorites taken on the trip. We had been walking for several hours in the heat and she appeared at my feet, begging to be carried. Not realizing, of course, that my days of carrying her ended as soon as she decided to sprout legs as long as the state of California.

But I like her heat-flushed cheeks, windblown hair, her baby freckles, and the tired sparkle in her green eyes. The imploring expression that is just seconds away from saying, "Mom..." followed by a plea of some sort. It's a face I've seen a thousand times.



And a face I'm sure to see a thousand more.

How to have a spontaneous vacation (and survive it)

The poor gator we brought back home with us. Yes, it's totally real.

As you have no doubt been reading ad nauseam, we took a little trip down to Naples, Florida last week. It was completely a spur-of-the-moment thing, turned out to be fantastic --and was absolutely worth it.

I learn a lot every time we take a trip anywhere, and this one was no exception. Thought I'd share a few things I learned with you, in case you find yourself in a similar situation.

1. Don't be afraid to say yes. When your husband says, "I am going to be in Florida for an extended business trip, want to come?" Say yes, even if you are afraid you will not get cheap flights at the last minute. Say yes, even if it is the last week of school and you will have to pull your kids out, forcing them miss most of the fun parties, field days, and concerts. Say yes, even if it seems like an insane thing to do.

For when you sit under that beach umbrella with your husband, watching your babies play in the surf, you will both turn to look at each other at the exact same moment and say, "IT WAS TOTALLY WORTH IT."

Besides, airfare will be surprisingly cheap. And kids won't necessarily care about the parties at the end of the year. Family memories and time together will last a lifetime. They are only this age once.

2. Do not be afraid to check the rates of very fancy hotels that you think you cannot afford. We stayed at the Ritz Carlton for $119 a night, people! That's cheaper than most of the crappy hotels NOT on the beach. It was five-star service at a two-star price. I would have been content to stay anywhere, but the Husband's tolerance level runs a wee bit higher. We hit the city of Naples off-season, and had the beach and hotel wait staff to ourselves. It was heaven.

[I'm also slightly afraid that my children are ruined for life. You can't stay at the Ritz and then ever stay anywhere else without being terribly disappointed.]

3. Do not be phased by emergencies that come up. During our five-day stay, we had one emergency room visit, one urgent situation requiring help from a physician back home, one child pass out due to heat stroke on a hotel boardwalk, and a supposedly waterproof mitt failed - leaving one child's cast soaking wet and full of sand.

For most people, these events would absolutely ruin the trip. For us, it was pretty much normal fare for a vacation.

Sadly.

But a few doses of antibiotics quickly took care of the ear infection that sent us to the ER. Some ice, water, and juice took care of the heat stroke. A late night conversation with our physician back home solved an otherwise nightmare situation. The soggy, smelly cast was removed when we got home and replaced with a removable brace. We took it all in stride, and figured it wasn't worth getting upset about.

Slightly annoyed maybe. But not upset. We were back on the beach and in good form - hardly the worse for wear.

4. Give yourself permission to put down the camera and watch your babies play with your own two eyes. Pictures are treasures that can help preserve the memory, but it is also important to be a part of making the memory yourself. So many times I miss things because I am busy photographing them instead of doing them. This trip, I did not make that mistake, and I have no regrets for the small number of pictures I took.

Instead, I made sandcastles with Hannah and hunted for seashells. I dove through waves with McKay and Chase. I raced the Husband (and lost) on a kayak in the middle of the ocean, laughing as the salty water shot up around us.

And not once did I feel anything lacking.

The trip was heaven and I'd do it again. And again. And again.

How's tomorrow, in fact?

One for the sibs

One added bonus at the baptism this past weekend was the presence of both sets of parents (and one lovely cousin who braved a solo road trip with four kids to be here). We felt showered by lovely rose petals from our family tree.

Using Mother's Day as the ruse, I begged the parents and in-laws to sit for a mini photo session - and true to their good natures - they humored me and obliged.

I thought they were all so cute and it warmed my heart to see familiar faces through my lens for a change.

I share these here so that siblings near and far can sneak a peek and share in the fun, too.

The in-laws:

And the parents:

These I love

I love it when they sometimes crawl into bed with me first thing in the morning, the smell of sleep still in their hair. They curl their warm, lazy bodies next to mine and together we talk and dream of what the day will hold.

I love it when they turn up the music loud and entice me away from the computer or the dishes to dance and sing with them at the top of my lungs. More often than not, it is music from my era, and part of my soul rejoices in knowing I have brainwashed them into loving the 80s.

I love it when they give me hugs. For no reason at all.

I love it when they surround me for a family movie night. Feet and legs tangled beneath blankets, we watch and laugh together. Popcorn or cookies are shared. It's times like this that I can even pretend I don't mind the crumbs.

I love it when I see that their pants are too short or notice wrists and forearms sticking awkwardly out of shirt sleeves because that means they have grown. And it makes me so happy when they do what they're supposed to.

I love it when they dance and laugh in the rain because daddy said yes after I said no.

I love it when they look me in the eye and ask my opinion on something because they think I'm an expert. Even when it's math that totally goes over my head.

I love it that they love me.

I love them with every particle of my being.

And every night when my head hits the pillow, I thank God for trusting me with these three perfect souls.

Happy mother's day, indeed.

Contentment

I was watching my kids play in the snow last week. I watched their red cheeks, stretched tight with cold and laughter. The snow balls flew through the air, and their bodies pressed angel-shaped into the snow-covered grass. Confetti clouds of white were tossed against the bright, blue sky. Shrieks of bubbly laughter surrounded them like a thick blanket.

And then the question creeped into my mind, ever so softly.

When exactly did I grow up?

I don't remember it happening. I just know that it has.

No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to pinpoint the moment that dipping my face into the snow sounded less like an adventure and more like torture. When did I decide that a snowball in the face is not the least bit funny? When did it grow so cold out that I chose to watch instead of play?

I think it happened so gradually that I hardly noticed it.

There was a time that I was the one with frostbitten fingers, tossing snowballs at my brothers' knitted caps. I was the one who donned moon boots and a striped coat, and stayed outside for hours -- returning to the house only for lunch or a quick cup of cocoa. I was once the one who made snow angels and tossed confetti clouds of white against the sky.

My days now are filled with schedules, carpools, laundry, and dishes. I have bills that I pay. I have a car that I maintain, and a house that I own. I have worries, stored up in a tired mind, that always seem to unleash themselves the minute my head hits the pillow.

I am the one who locks up the house at night, and climbs into bed in the dark. Nobody checks my closet for monsters or tucks me in with a kiss.

I am now the grown up.

Every once in a while, I miss the little girl who liked to have that kind of fun. But mostly, I sit content with myself now. Watching over my little snow babies from the warmth and security of a soft chair by the window. Looking up from my book now and then to laugh with them. Hurrying to ready a warm cup of cocoa when I hear their boots stomping in the garage.

Because the little girl I once was? She never knew what it felt like to warm the hands of her babies, listen to their laughter, and find that she loves them so much it hurts.

If she had, I'm afraid she might have been in a much bigger hurry to grow up.

Fare thee well, 2009

I am breaking radio silence here at Casa de Stie. (I know. Try to contain yourselves.)

We have had a lovely holiday break, and plan on making the most of the few days we have left. It has been just a fantastic week - lots of movies, books, games, naps, and food. The Husband has been TOTALLY off the grid. We have only ventured out of the house for movies, absolutely necessary grocery store runs, and church. It's been positively heaven. I could stand this life all year long.

Of course, my house would be a wreck.

But it'd be nice to live like this a little more often.

Today I have been pouring over my photo archives -- reminiscing and laughing, cringing and critiquing. And what I decided was this: 2009 was very kind to us. So much so that I find myself on my knees in gratitude and sheer wonder at our good fortune. We've had our challenges, as every family does, but we successfully wound our way through another year -- learning, laughing, crying, and loving.

Here, to ring in the new year, are the highlights from our family. In photo form.

Happy new year, indeed.