Tidbit #8

Damn You Auto Correct tonight had me laughing til I cried, squeaked, and gasped for breath. It just never gets old. Machine+Man = best farce humor ever.

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Tidbit #7

I caught a brief glimpse of the sunset while driving tonight. One long, thin golden ribbon adorning the steely sky - a reminder that the sun rose today and was with us all along, even on the grayest of days.

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Tidbit #6

Things I never imagined I'd ever shout:

Enough! It's your dinner, not a water park! (Who knew soup could be so fun?)
Eat your food, don't decorate with it!
Lillia, get Jesus's head out of your mouth. He's not for teething! (Tho I guess no one can resist the Jesus Action Figure.)

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Tidbit #5

This afternoon Dave came home on lunch and rocked Lia to sleep.

Then again tonight, completely out of our routine, I did the same.

I sang this.
And this.
(As usual.)

Her little head kept popping up, swaying a little more each time, dropping down a little heavier each time.

I hope that little head will forever fit so perfectly in the nook of my collarbone, my cheek resting gently on her sweet, silky hair.

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Tidbit #4

This is part of my 366 Tidbits series. I'd love it if you'd join me!
(What? You like to start at #1?  Well, you can start wherever you'd like! I'll be catching up soon.)

Lia was in her birthday suit at dinner tonight - she shoveled rice in her mouth tonight, dropping it all over the chair. In the process of getting off the chair, she managed to cover herself with every single piece and then proceeded to run around the house, shedding rice right and left. (And I wonder why I'm always vacuuming.)  Oh, Lia. You crack me up.

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Memories and Tidbits

You may have seen this circulating around over the past few days: Portraits Are More Than Paper

It hits home for a lot of us. We take pictures out of habit, in hopes that we might ever get them up on Facebook, or even into albums and scrapbooks. But what happens when they are all we have left of someone we love?  The simplest snapshot takes on new meaning when someone in it is no longer with us.

I just came across the picture above - a little selfie I took in August with my point and shoot. I love this moment. Our days are so full that even though I might remember feeling this way, I doubt I could ever recall the moment without a photograph, and certainly Lillia never will.

It's not about getting your portraits done. Its about existing in living memory. Sure, not every moment needs a camera - but the sweetest moments need memories. We don't pass down spoken memories as societies used to, so it only makes sense that there is a shift in the way we maintain our history. A picture is one of many simple ways to do just that.

It doesn't matter how you capture your memories - just do it. Jot down your favorite moments of that day. Take a snapshot with your phone. HAND YOUR CAMERA OFF TO SOMEONE so that you are in a picture. Guess what? Your family loves you for who you are, and if you're avoiding the camera, you're depriving them of preserving memories they love.

That one letter has spurred a memory revolution - feel free to join in any way you would like. What am I doing to make sure my girls remember our beautiful, imperfect life?

I've started a 366 Tidbits Project.  (Yes, indeedy! It's a leap year!)

I'll be jotting down one tidbit each day and posting it here (informally, and not necessarily with a picture - gotta keep it simple, people!). I haven't kept up on the girls' monthly letters, and I feel their memories melting together and drifting away, which I hate.

So check back here for 366 days of tidbits - things I noticed, something quirky about my day, something that inspired me or made me giggle. It coincides nicely with my second project 365 that I started in October (which you can view here).  Hopefully through this, the girls will get to know the me they loved before they were old enough to really remember. 

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On experience and permanence

(The view from my parents' street - processed by my dad.)

My dad and I were walking up his driveway after running down the street to catch the last bit of a beautiful sunset. The driver of the Fed-Ex truck that was backing out stopped to say with relief, Oh, thank goodness someone's got their camera! What a beautiful sunset!  And it occurred to me then, what strange things technology has done to us.  We panic at the thought of losing a memory forever. Even if it's the grainiest phone snapshot and we never again look at it, just the fact that it exists is enough. Someone somewhere has the memory permanently stored, and with that knowledge, we can go back to enjoying our view. Or even turn away from it.

Our winters here are so long. Not the harsh, beating coldness of most northern winters. It's dark, dull, unrelenting gloom.  When we have crisp, clear days, they are treasures that inspire us to make it through the strings of dreary weeks.  I can certainly identify with that overwhelming pull to capture them forever. Some days I long for proof that the sun ever graced my views.

(Taken with my phone, as I stuck my knee in a pile of leafy muddy guck.)

Earlier this week, I ran up and down a few blocks in Seattle trying to get a better vantage point of this amazing sunset.  I wanted to shout, Look! Don't you see it? to every person on the street. Wild eyed and running around, I was snapping phone shots left and right. After I acknowledged my own ridiculousness, and decided to hop in my car and just enjoy it, I passed the Pike Place Market sign, illuminated from behind by these same stunning golden clouds. That was the view I had imagined in my head all along.

In the 1.5 second glimpse I had of the amazing view, all I could think was, "Thank God there are tourists here. Someone will have taken a picture."

P.S. You can bet I was thrilled to see a private plane soaring across the view above. Surely that was their best flight ever.

P.P.S. Who's getting up to see the lunar eclipse in the morning? I'll be waking up my 3 year old to watch with me if the skies stay clear!

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