I love a happy ending.

I'll apologize in advance.
This isn't a Mommy Blog so two Lucy posts back-to-back warrants some kind of acknowledgement. I'm sorry. There. I said it. Fe will be so proud.

But this sweet little gem of a story needed to be told, mostly because I love Fe in it and I'm a sucker for anytime PK gets to be the hero. And because I rarely post sweet, and who couldn't use a little sugar in their life? A little dose of pure love and happiness?

Let us begin. Whilst we were at the nail salon, The Lu was pretty captivated by the balloons lining the sidewalk outside. It was for one of the those god awful tent sales, but the gorgeous pink balloons seemed to be waving only at Lucy. She was in love with them. "Ball! Ball!" Close enough. We got her excited little point.

Fe is a fabulous grandma, obviously. And fabulous grandmas keep grandkids happy. And if happiness is bought with a pink balloon, then so be it. Fe is never one to disappoint. She got Lu her pink "ball", spreading smiles all around.

Lu was a bundle of thrilled. I haven't seen someone that happy since Shelley's first perm -- 3rd grade, for those keeping score. Fe attached it to her little Lu wrist and off she went a'tottering. She and that balloon had some exploring to do. They had some memories to make.

Only too bad for Fe, because apparently she did not go to knot tying school and she definitely wasn't a boy scout. That balloon flew off Lucy's wrist in 3 steps. Lucy was devastated. Who wouldn't be? Every girl lives through two major life crises: First break-up. First balloon loss. We weren't about to make this a first.

Our brave Lu, she kept it together. She was strong. Her face told the story of sadness, but she wouldn't let herself cry. She would never let the balloon see her that way. I will remind her of this if we ever face the other life crisis.

Fe acted quickly.
Lu waited in anticipation.
No luck.

Fe grabbed a cane. Not sure how. Or where. Or why. But she ended up with a cane and God bless her for it. She tried. A for effort. F for fail.

Lu decided to help Fe. Clearly the woman was in need.
At this point, I wasn't sure who was more upset: Lucy for the lost balloon or Fe for providing the lost object of Lucy's affection. We were nearing a generation spanning meltdown.

Fe began to pace. Lucy was quick to remind her where the problem was. "Lady, it's up there. See? There? Call 911."

"Wait! Better idea. Fe, call Grandpa. I am a big fan of that guy and he can fix anything, I think."

This is the part I love. Fe actually did it. She called PK to leave his office, come to the nail salon, and get a balloon from the ceiling.

And of course he did.
Lucy was pretty psyched to see him. She ran. She hugged. She pointed in distress.

Lucy scored the assist on pulling the balloon off the ceiling.

"I love this thing."

"I love this guy."

And I love a happy ending, because it was pretty touch and go for a while.

Who wouldn't want this as the biggest drama in your life?
A lost balloon.
And who wouldn't want this to be the end result in your life?

Watching your hero walk away with your beloved balloon tied to your poodle purse. The purse is named Phoebe, obviously.

Her life is a dream.


When Lucy took her first steps, I snapped about 43 pictures.
On her first Christmas, I took 116 pictures.
First visit to the nail salon as a customer: 146 photos.

Yep. I'd say we have our priorities right around here.
We really believe that beauty routines can never be started too early.
We just need to set a solid foundation from the beginning.
This is brilliant parenting by Shelley.

It was a big day. Huge. Epic. A date which will live in infamy, if you will.

She l-o-v-e-d her day.
And we l-o-v-e-d her at the salon.

We all know what step one is: Pick any color.

"I think I like this color Fe. But I'm not 100% sure. Let me think about my outfits for the next week. I'm wondering if it will match."

"Yes, it matches my elephant blanket perfectly so I will go with it because elephant blanket would not lie."

"Wait a second. I'm not sure. That pink stuff goes where???"

"Oh -- I see it now. You may color test on me, Fe. I hear that's what all the girls do and that would probably explain why Momma has five shades of pink on her right hand. I just assumed she thought it was '98 and Wet and Wild rainbow hands were back in style."

"Careful Fe. Don't get any on elephant blanket. You've been warned."

"Are we blowing? I can help blow. I love this place, btdub. Ok people, I have picked my color and tested it. Where do I go now?"

Step two: Do you want a manicure or a pedicure?
"Everyone else is sans shoes, so I'm gonna go for the pedicure mostly because I am big fan of taking my shoes of these days. That Velcro is like music to my baby ears."

"I will sit with my Momma. I'm really into her these days. I don't like her walking out of eye sight. It's my least favorite thing. PS, is that a sponge? Can I play with that?"

"Why yes I can."

"Did you pick a color, Aunt Sister? Your lap looks comfy, sister. Maybe I will come sit with you next."
"I didn't realize you were a fingers in the mouth fan too, sister. And also, your mouth is huge. Did your fingers get lost in there?"

"Oh it is a joy here. This may look like a cry, but it's a giggle. I tipped over and fell on my rumper bumper and I wanted to make sure Aunt Sister saw it because it was a hoot. I like that she takes pictures of me and I like to know where the camera is at all times so she doesn't miss a shot. Tyra says I'm very aware of the camera. And that I smize."
"I've decided against the polish. It will take too long and I am not interested in sitting when there is so much exploring to be done. You may trim my nails. Next time I will be older and we will try for polish."

We have them for sure.
For sure.

Harvesting the Spring Crop.

A lot of people ask us what we do on Saturday nights.
It depends on if it's harvest time.

We celebrated the bounty of the Earth this evenin' as we worked under the moonlight to harvest the year's moss crop, much as we did in ought-9. When the harvest moon of Spring Thatch is upon us, we work tirelessly to receive all that mother nature has blessed us with. Raking and bagging the moss, we pluck it from our fields. Suburban farming is our heritage and we happily carry on the traditions.

The hard work will be worth it when we bring the ripe moss to market.

The land was good to us this year.

Oh happy day.

Today it's Spring Break.
Well, it started at 4:00.
I'm 3 hours and 23 minutes into Spring Break. I want to cry. I'm so happy.


You know what else is utopia?
When you're 6 years old and you plant a lollipop stick (see exhibit A).
And you water it and watch it and you sing to it, because you just know it will grow into a lollipop tree.
And then you come back inside from recess and you find that it has. It's regrown (exhibit B).

Exhibit A.

Exhibit B.

Don't shake your head at me. There's a beautiful song that goes with it (who doesn't love Burl Ives?) and it reminds me of Fe. She was a great Mom. She taught us that lollipop sticks grow into lollipop trees and I kinda still think they do.

And don't shake you're head at me over Spring Break.
I earned this.
I get an A+ for career selection.

My deepest Spring clean.

I thought this might be a little fun for a change.
But that's also what I thought one night in '99 that ended with orange sun-in and hairless arms (classic hot wax fight - Shelley started it).

It's my purse.
That's the fun.

Doesn't it look so unsuspecting?
But today, it got a little unbearable and a little uncomfortable to carry. I make a point of never being uncomfortable, so this was very hard on me. I need a cold pack and an US weekly, stat.
Anyhoo, I decided to take a look inside.
I was shocked. You cannot unsee that.

It's not going so well in that purse and I can't blame anyone for it. Which is not fun since passing blame is one of my favoritest games. But really, I'm not actually that upset or disappointed by what my purse looks like. You might think it's shameful. I'm pretty proud of my accomplishment. Filling a purse is like building Rome in my life.

What does your purse say about you?
Do small purses make for more structured and guided people?
Are big purse made for big personalities?
And more importantly, what do the contents say about the contents of your life?

My life is a myriad of important questions, I think.
And since I'm such a giver, I decided to share my treasures with you.
You are blessed and very lucky.
The wide angle (angel? angle? I can haz spel help) view. My treasures. Take it all in. I carry this on my right arm everyday and I'm basically one armed Pop Eye.

And as for my favorite found items, well...
I thought only Moms had snacks in their purses, but evidently I did too. This was a surprise. And it was delicious. Don't judge. I got hungry typing. Growing Susie.
I'm going to be perfectly honest. I never use this planner. I carry it to look organized. I adore people with planners who use them and write in them and organize their lives in them. "Oh, let me check my calendar." That just sounds so cool. I'm so jealous. I've written in it three times this week. Which makes my 2010 total three.
Pearls. They're real. Why wouldn't they be? You never know when you need to class it up or play Bree Van de Kamp. Pair it with a nice cardigan and I'd say Susie is ready to go out.
Don't these pens scream "I work in a school"?
Also, I mourn the loss of the broken one. I really liked that guy. I have a thing about pens. It revolves around my overwhelming life dream of finding the actual pen brand/style used in Ghostwriter. I would like to write with one of those while watching Wishbone.
I named this my Bella Swan memorial headband, because she wears one through the first half of New Moon. Through the second half of New Moon she's pushing hair out of her sunshine face every 3 seconds and I'm screaming "put on a stinking headband you wishwashy Jacob-enabler". And scene.
I like to carry as much makeup with me as possible. Life long habit.
Plus, I can only photoshop on so much makeup without just needing the real thing.
Plus, I may have image issues. I thought the new DOVE ads would help. They have not.
Nope. Wait. This is what screams "I work at a school".
This is my favorite. We'll end here. Promise. You've served your time.
That would be the angel (angle? angel? did we decided? did I do it right?) for the top of our manger scene. Lucy liked the angel and decided to keep it, then dropped it in my purse for safe keepings. Bless her soul.

I would also like to give a few quick TRL shout outs to:
1. The batteries.
2. The tanning bed goggles. Don't judge. I have one mini-spring-time-8-session vice.
3. Point and shoot. Always live prepared. Kind of like with the pearls.

I give myself 5 days to keep this baby clean.
Which is 4 days longer than Chuck's giving it.

I think it's some of my best work.

Some things are not so easy.
Hula hooping.
And taking pictures of 14 month olds who want to explore.

I wanted pictures of Lucy outside and walking around. Lucy wanted the walking around part. She did not so much care about my picture part.

She wanted to run.
She wanted to climb.
She wanted to do everything but look in my general direction.

All 50 pictures look the same.

Some variation of this.

Or this.

Or this.
Or this.

Oooh! For variety and more demonstrations of my photo genius, I have two lovely side shots -- they go well with back shots. It's all very validating. Shot 1. Shot 2.
Photographic Fails.

Sigh, thanks to Stretch, I got one solid front shot. They were playing airplane. We've seen it a thousand times but it's still adorable.You know what's not adorable? Chuck's face in this picture. Ashen skin, squint eyes and girl lips. Really, Chuck -- you didn't need to go all Edward. Lucy loves you more than him (unlike some of us...).

I'm disappointed. It's the one OK picture I have of Lucy from Sunday and his face ruins it.

Oh, hello, photoshop. What's that? You can help fix this? Swap ugly Chuck for a better one? One where he doesn't look like the undead?

Done and done.
I think this might be my most realistic photoshopping yet. Giant head. Check. Hard lighting. Check. Awesomeness. Check. Check.

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