Posts Tagged ‘laughing’

I wanted to laugh. 

Only I was the parent who seconds earlier had told my son to cap the pen–the black permanent marker, which he’d been scribbling dangerously with on a piece of construction paper barely balanced on a dining room chair.  Only he didn’t cap it.  And so screaming in the hallway like her clothes were on fire was my daughter with black permanent marker streaked from her forehead to her chin.


Except for that parent thing where I’m supposed to plant a certain three year old’s behind on the stairs and pity my daughter who is scrubbing her face off in the bathroom.  Which I did.  Only the voice I spoke in was completely unknown to me, a different octave even, as I tried to convince myself this was serious stuff.

By which time a BAWAHAHA slipped out and I excused myself to the garage.

Somewhere around the five minute mark my daughter’s face came clean, and some time after that  her brother squeaked for forgiveness.

And I, well…

I capped that black pen.


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Without meaning to we laughed our hineys off this morning. 

The stack of Better Homes and Gardens and the three pairs of scissors seemed completely innocent before we started.  But then we got to cutting.  And by the time my daughter tried on a new pair of lips, and my son, a pair of eyes, well, that was it.  We kissed composure goodbye.

Here’s my daughter with her new burgundy smackers.

And my son with glasses.  Large ones.

Here’s about the time I let out my first guffaw…

As there was something way too special about my daughter with her new eyeballs…

And about my son…

who just might look like this in eighty-five years.

May he have more teeth.

And this.  Whoa.

May I, uh, recover from seeing this.

Which I have. 

Because I just can’t stop being happy with this mouth grinning at me.

Or with these lips pouting on her…

and him.

Or with these eyes looking into my soul.

And these ones half way to heaven.

Nope.  Gonna have to smile today.

Even if I have to borrow these lips to do it for me.

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I don’t know your sentiment, if any, on saying goodbye to Twenty-ten.  I can’t say I’m squeezing out a tear here. 

It’s just that as we button up another year, I realize, too, that  it’s a whole decade we’re shelving…and somehow, that seems significant. 

And it’s not that I want to dredge up the last ten years and try to make sense of any of them.  I ain’t got the time.  I just want to remember for a moment, while I can, some of the reasons I smiled in 2010.

Some time in July my son and daughter came downstairs and twirled in these same-color dresses until they nearly burst from giddiness. 

But it’s this picture that does something to me.  I just can’t put it into words.

In the spring, we’d sprinkled a packet of wildflower seeds in our backyard and had waited out most of the summer for them to bloom.  Only when they did, my son took to harvesting them in small bunches multipe times a day.  This was one of my gifts.  Like winning the jackpot, people.

Here are both my kids in the back of the kiddie train chugging through the park in Orting.   I don’t even remember the reason we’re there.  Just somethin’ about  them smiles.

In late August, we hadn’t intended to stop at Little Eorthe Farm to see the chickens and the sunflowers.  But it’s what we did when we didn’t want to go home quite yet.  Our son had just turned green and upchucked his entire roast beef lunch in the truck as we wound around a few mountain roads… which ended our hike before it began. 

Our time at Little Eorthe was a close second.

This is one of our Mount Rainier hikes where we started the tradition of eating lunch in the back of the truck.  Huge highlight when you’re six and three…something you’ll just have to trust me on…heh.

This was the beginning of another hike, where en route, our son turned a different shade of green.  Only this trip we pulled over in time and hung out on this beachy picnic sight until he turned  a more acceptable color.  Something like pink.

This is that same pre-hike spot, still biding time..

Only I’d take more of this in 2011. 

Not the barfing.  Or the windy roads that bring on the barfing.  But the outdoors.  With the fam.

I’d like to get in on more laughter, too.  And sleep….

Not talk of sleep.  Not a snooze.  Not 43 interruptions while I should be sleeping. 

The real deal…sigh.

It’s been a year…and it’s been ten. 

Welcome 2011!  I think I’m ready. 

And if I’m not…well, welcome anyway!

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The Laugh to Die For

My husband gave the fake foot-stamp like he might bolt from his chair after our son whose bare bottom was wagging in the doorway.  Which was enough.  Our son squealed his way to the kitchen.  But returned quickly with his chest still rising and falling fast and his eyes dancing in anticipation.  By which time my husband pounced on his ribs and tickled him right up the stairs.

Only I don’t know the words for that kind of laughter, as it’s the kind that surpasses what you thought was funny.  The kind that even sounds different.  Like you’re in a higher gear, a higher pitch, and there ain’t no stopping until you’re all laughed out.  It’s the laugh you want to free in church, only you can’t.  Cause it’s church.  The kind of laugh that has you thinking you just might die from a split side.  The real deal.  That laugh.

Which was what my kid was doin’ upstairs.  Bustin’ his sides with his dad. 

Then before coming down the stairs my husband said, “Sleep well, Silas.  I’ll most certainly tickle you in the morning.”  And our son raised his head off his pillow, “No, dad, no!”   “Oh yes,” my husband countered.  And then he waited in the hallway for the sure signs of tiny feet.

But they didn’t come.

Instead there was giggling as a little boy whispered with certainty to himself, “my dad’s gonna tickle me in the morning!”

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