I downloaded this picture from my camera this morning and it's 8:42pm and I'm still thinking about this picture. It's just... one of those. You can't ask Noah to pose, smile or even LOOK at you if you want to snap a picture. Every single one comes out like hell. I have over 5700 photos taken on my 'good' camera I realized today. I don't have even half of that on my hard drive because of all the ones I delete thanks to ill-fated "SMILE FOR ME!" attempts.

It's frustrating not to get a perfect picture.

But.

If my little blond boy wasn't so genuine when he smiled, this picture wouldn't be as perfect as it is.

-Sheryl

This Is What Happens

This is what happens when you're running out the door and you yell "Noahy! Hurry up and pick out some socks, put them on and get in the car!"

Independence Day

At first glance this picture looks like a toddler toddling. But it's Noah, taking his first successive steps as a walker- on a ferry boat in Seattle where we were visiting for my job interview before finally moving here. It was June 8th 2007 and Noah was 16 months old. 16 months. I was starting to wonder if his inability to walk was due to me wanting to carry him everywhere because he was tiny and cute and tiny. But he walked. And now at 4, he just runs. Runs, runs, runs.

The 4th was always one of those holidays that showed up in the summer and I definitely wasn't connecting any dots to the intent or meaning. As a child, it was a neighborhood bonanza of marginally intoxicated family, friends and neighbors shooting off pyrotechnics and everybody loving them as if it was a Disney level fanfare. We got to run around in the dark and hold sticks of flames in our hands and attempt to not burn up a sibling. Who wouldn't love that?

Wait. Jill's mother didn't. We had to do most of the fireworks at her house in DAYLIGHT because that was the smart thing to do. And the woman had good reason because- geez we lived around some looneys.

But there was that time where Jill's dad brought over a whole box of fireworks to participate in my dad's neighborhood display. He was lighting some off while my dad and other neighbors were shooting some off and suddenly... everyone's attention was drawn to Jill's dad who had somehow caught the entire box on fire. MAN that was a good set of fireworks to watch! 20-some exploding pieces of fireworks going every which way!

The next year I'm pretty sure we returned to the fireworks in the daylight thing with Jill's family.

But anyhow, we landed in Seattle as a family on the 4th of July in 2007. We were spent to the nth degree after 4 days shuffling driving duties between my in-laws and Alan (most days nobody let me drive- no offense taken because paying attention while driving up and down mountains isn't my strong suit). We had everything we owned jammed into a yellow Penske truck. Plus Joshua was 4, and a newly toddling Noah and my giant, loveable golden retriever Max were all in tow. And when we got here... oh my. That was some independence. That was some true "we did what we wanted and we made it happen" level of independence. We moved away from everything we'd ever known. We were doing jobs we wanted. We were living where we wanted. We were in SEATTLE.

At 3 years later, I definitely miss the family that makes up the family part of BBQ's. I even miss the sticky-ness of 4th of July in Michigan, a hallmark that summer is here (it's raining in Seattle this morning but it's suppose to break 80 soon. Sometime next week. Really.). And I'm truly independent in way too many ways on this 4th of July... but... just as all that time ago Noah's independence sucked as he toddled away from me, it's what I wanted for him. It's what needed to happen. Independence is just one of those things that we need and want, but it can just be so, so hard getting to that moment where everything feels... right.

-Sheryl

House Rules

Noah added another one to the house rules: Don't ever ever ever put your underwear in the oven.

Typically when Noah comes up with these one liners it's because he's already tried the event. Don't hang from ropes your brother is hanging over the banister. Don't throw brother's wallet out the window. Don't put stuff in your hair unless mama is with you... there's a really long list of shenanigans. This time though... I think he's trying to be proactive. I suppose he's growing up... Noah at 18 months... letting me know what he has in store for his future solo adventures behind closed doors.

Yeah... that smile on his face is equal to a full belly for that dog.

Another rule... it's ok if mom washes your muddy flip flops off in the sink. It doesn't work the same for light up, Velcro Spiderman shoes.

Do we ride our bike wearing our Batman cape? Nooooo.

But... all the trouble. All the rules. All the peed pants, clean ups, emergency shoe replacements, and crisis searches for cape saving wrenches... it's of course worth it when he tromps in the door with a "Disney" (odd mis-pronunciation of Dandelion don't you think?...).

House Rules

I have sometimes contemplated developing a list of House Rules to post by the front door. The problem is that for the most part, they really only developed out of something Noah did, Noah started to do, Noah was planning to do, etc. Here are a few:

1. Don't start daddy's car.
2. Don't touch the tailpipe of cars.
3. Don't stand in the washing machine.
4. Don't touch poo poo.
5. Don't put pens in the water dispenser.
6. Don't put anything in the water dispenser.
7. Don't ride your bike with you Batman cape on. (we have a picture that shows what happens when you don't listen to this one).
8. Don't press the red button on mommy's key thing.
9. Don't stick any of brother's toys in your mouth.
10. Don't lick soap bubbles.

There's more. There's so many more.

This is the one that cropped up tonight however:

11. If you poo poo in the shower, you have to tell mommy but then you have to clean it up your self.

-Sheryl