If we weren’t already married, the only reason I would have to explain why I am hugging this man is Stockholm Syndrome.
I love this picture. I was sitting at the island checking my e-mail when I realized that Eden was taking a pair of scissors to a FedEx box…I don’t know why. She was so intent, hunkered down there on the floor so I clicked on the Photo Booth and while the picture was counting down Lydia walked into the frame. I love that my home is my own big photo booth, that I just keep clicking the button and I’m never sure exactly what the picture will be.
The Usual Suspects
We all have our go tos when it comes to Photo Booth.
Christopher can be counted on to make a goofy face.
Peace in our time
“Lydia! I want to be your ally today,” a boy shouted from the kitchen.
Well, thank God.
As the girl was busy putzing around her room and couldn’t hear the declaration, no formal alliance has been established.
Wait! Even as I typed the boy walked by me to the doorway of his sister’s room, paused and asked, “May I please come in?” and continued to wait until she said yes.
They talked amicably until the girl respectfully asked him to leave because she was working hard CLEANING!
Now he is emptying half of the dishwasher.
I’m just going to sit here quietly and enjoy it.

I love this picture of Christopher. It was taken when Paul was in Taiwan last month. Almost every night Christopher slept on the floor at the foot of my bed, “So that you can have company.” The girls would get up in the morning, come into my room and wake him up too. They would climb in with me and we would talk together before getting up.
My window faces east so I get that soft and lovely morning light. When my kids are lit by it with their faces crushed and their hair all tousled from sleep I almost can’t take their beauty. I wish I could see them like that all day.
I hesitated to post this before because I don’t like the way I look in it, but I’m at a point that I don’t want to hold back sharing my kids’ beauty because it might reveal my awkwardness or what I consider my own ugliness.
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