The family on the porch, in our Easter finery. Scott is of the school of thought that a guy ought to wear a suit on Easter and Christmas, at least, and he's pulling Miles in his footsteps (although I've been far too cheap to actually buy Miles a suit yet). Who would've guessed that the guy I started dating in college - the one who owned one tie and whose "dressy" pants were the corduroy ones without holes - would turn out so dapper?
You can't tell, but I actually was wearing pantyhose, a skirt, and a modicum of makeup! A red letter day for sure.
Eleanor shows off the Easter dress I made her. It has a very fluffy skirt, which she likes, and a giant bow on the back, which annoys her. I am far from a brilliant seamstress, and this was only my second try at going "off the pattern," so to speak. I took elements I liked from two patterns and a couple other dresses I had seen and tried to create my own. It mostly worked.
I note, I am also getting better at braiding. I intended to braid her entire head in sort of a zigzag pattern, but after the first two hours, I decided we'd be in better spirits for Easter if I just left it.
Nora's pink painted toenails and new summer sandals. I didn't notice they had a heel until I brought them home (who puts a heel on toddler shoes? I mean, this shoe was available in a size 5, which is barely walking for a lot of kids.) Oh well. She looks VERY tall now.
The highlight of Miles' Easter basket: a $1 toy that launches a helicopter/fan blade-like thingie into the air. We've already lost one thingie on the garage roof; only two to go.
Encouraging note: I didn't include much edible in the kids' baskets: a pair of socks, a book, a seed kit to plant, a small toy, a box of tic-tacs, 4 mini chocolate eggs (jellybean size), one candy necklace, 3 gummi bunnies, and one egg full of jellybeans. To me, this seemed modest at best (which was my aim). I was pleased to see Eleanor exclaim excitedly, "Wow! We have LOTS of candy!"
Now, how do I help my kids continue to be content with what, by US standards, is perhaps a paltry amount of spoils? That's a question for a lot of areas in life, I suppose: how do we maintain an attitude of contentment in a culture of excess? Something I ponder, but haven't reached any light-bulb moments yet. I'll let you know if I do. (And yes, I do realize this has connections to the food issues that have plagued me for most of my life. No easy solutions there yet, either.)
Coy...
...and not so coy!
Guess who seems to have inherited Mommy's smug smile?
The angelic siblings. This is about 20 seconds before Eleanor revolted and, in tears, declared it was HER turn with the helicopter/fanblade thingie and she wasn't going to smile for any more photos. In fairness, it was past lunchtime, and she doesn't do well on an empty stomach.
A big Daddy-hug made everything all better, for a few minutes at least.
Why is it that Scott is so much more photogenic than I am? Or perhaps I should claim it's my own skill with the camera?
Miles and his Daddy. For a very wiggly, can't-sit-still four-year-old, he is still wonderfully cuddly. Sitting "next to" always ends up as sitting "on." Sometimes at the dinner table, he just reaches over and wants to hold hands with me or Scott. And sad to say, his most annoying habit (which I'm trying to learn not to be annoyed by) is his habit of reaching over and fiddling with my ponytail when we are both reading next to each other. I note: this is Miles I'm talking, about, not Scott. Anyway, I am guessing that "touch" is one of his love languages for sure!
