Mother's Day

One of my closest friends, Megann Kay McGee Shepard, died last week. She never got to be a mom. In fact, while trying to become a mom, she found out she had ovarian cancer.

In church on Sunday, the preacher, who tried for 11 years to have a child with his wife before adopting, talked about his impatience when listening to others talk about the tribulations of child-rearing. "I would have given my left arm to feed a child at 3am," he said.

So you won't hear me complaining about my daughter's returned passion for rising long before the sun. Or her recurrent tantrums related to car seats. Okay, well, my mom and dad and husband MIGHT have heard me complain, but that's their job. I thank God for the blessing of Meredith Jubilee Lareau. My friend Julie wrote about how, for her, mother's day is more about the blessing of child rearing than about anything spectacular she does. She remembers all the years she created mother's day presents that wreaked havoc on her home (signs that tore the paint off the wall, cakes that weren't edible, cookies packed with her dad's present of a shirt, thereby staining the shirt irreperably). Not surprisingly, this whole mother/child thing is symbiotic. Give and take. Win some, lose some.

Anyway, enough thoughts by a girl who is tired and sad and happy to be a mom.

Here's how we spent the weekend.


3 Generations of Squinty Eyed Smiles (it WAS very sunny)


Hanging out on the front porch with Papa.


Playground fun...throwing caution to the wind. She treats thresholds like rivers of lava but walks up to the firehouse pole as if it holds no threat for her.


Playground fun with T (and Robert, who earlier led a rousing game of follow the leader)


Playground fun with Daddy (fun of the more mellow sort).


Una Princesa Mexicana en la vestida que fue un regalo de Tia Sarai.


Missing Mrs. Clause (otherwise known as Marme Lareau) -- we'll see you soon!

Good Friends

Good friends are those who allow you to drop your child off at 7am on Sunday morning and then act like you did them a favor. For more on Mer's day with Walt, check out the Spickler blog.

19 Months!

19 month old baby girls are like roses...Okay, not really. Really, I just wanted to show you the roses in our backyard. Actually, 19 month old baby girls are like this:


Every child has to have an embarassing spaghetti picture.

I'm not feeling particularly inspired this month, perhaps because I'm still recovering from a vile stomach bug that my darling MJ brought home to me. So I'll tell you these simple things: she climbs on EVERYTHING. She is not content if she's not climbing. Previously entertaining tasks are now only rewarding if performed atop a perch of some sort. We're working on the following phrase: "That's not safe." I'll let you know when progress is made.



But if we're outside and there's relatively little to climb on (or only playground equipment that was built for stability around toddlers), all is well. On Sunday, we went to the park while Daddy went to soccer. We were blessed to find a drum circle just getting started and we stayed for hours. After awhile, Mer got access to her own little drum and she couldn't stop making my favorite new noise..."woooohhhhh". It was a good day. Almost all of them are!

They Pay You to Work Because Otherwise You Wouldn't

Sometimes, work is really hard. This is one of those times. But I'm blessed to have a job that gives me great reasons to keep on keeping on. Last night, our kids had their spring musical. This is my favorite picture from the evening. Check out the GIANT smile on the little boy who has severe autism. Oh yeah. Love it.

Mer did too. It was her first experience at a performance (other than coffee shops, churches, and Rock 'n Romp--where bad behavior is encouraged), and she thought she was part of the show. We're going to have to work on that...

Weekend Warriors

What a great weekend.


First, we went to the "Cancer Never Sleeps" walk. It was a beautiful evening. Meredith "borrowed" a bag of Cheetos from an unsuspecting kid and ate them faster than you can say "orange fingers." She also hung out with the coolest girl at the party, and had a fabulous time running in and out of this tent.


On Saturday, we planted some herbs and flower seeds. Meredith loves gardening. I wouldn't say she's particularly helpful, but she does enjoy it.

Every good red blooded American weekend involves home improvement. In this pic, Meredith points out the problems. Her dad said something about her being a small part of the problem, but he said it quietly and he still thanked her for her help.


Sports time in the backyard with Coach Sugg and Coach Lyndi. I don't know about Walt, but this was Mer's first team sporting event. Lareau is content to ride the bench with his cerveza.

Breakfast Brilliance

Well, dear ones, we left the power cord to the Mac in Cali, so until that comes back to us, we'll have pictureless posts. Forgive me, please for this post. I'm the only person in my family who isn't a teacher, but it IS in the genes and I can't help being fascinated with the way her brain is developing.

I've mentioned before the way you can almost see Mer's wheels turning when she wakes up in the mornings. She's processed everything in her sleep, and she's ready to prove it. For a couple weeks, I've really been encouraging her to say some two word sentences...mostly things that involve "please." More, please. Yes, please. Help, please. It was so interesting me to watch her say the words one at a time...but to look at me like I was crazy when I put them together. Or, even more interesting, come up with some completely unrelated nonsense word when I tried to get her to repeat a two word sentence, and then look at me like she'd nailed it. Anyway, this morning when I asked her if she wanted more apple, she said "yes, please" as if it were incredibly normal. Precious.

Then when I was buttoning her buttons on her dress, and counting so that she would know she wouldn't have to stand there forever, she followed my "one" with her own "two." And, what with my own complete disinterest in numbers, I haven't been encouraging that at all. Even when toddlers are cutting their eye teeth, they can still be pretty cool.

Easter in the Desert

I realize that my pics of Cali don't ever show Palm Desert to be the desert it is. Someday we'll show you desert pics. But that's a stark beauty that, frankly, requires a better photographer than I. It's easy to take fun pics when everything is covered with flowers.


Embarking on our journey. Chris kept referring to Aunt Beth as the nanny. Don't worry, she got him back.


Mer feeds Beth a chip. This was entertaining for 7 minutes of the 3 hour plane ride.


Poo's neighbors have allowed some incredible tropical vine to cover their palms and, in the spring, they're covered with yellow trumpet flowers...


Meredith smelling a poppy. Uh oh. Don't get sleepy Dorothy...


Since Meredith wouldn't be confined to the stroller for our walks, we just wandered aimlessly and looked for things to talk about. She was really interested in the triangles in the middle of the street. We studied them longer than was probably safe.


Chris and Mer check out the spa at Aunt Callie's. Endlessly fascinating.


Meredith is now at the age that she knows what swimming is and that she wants to do it ALL DAY LONG. She points at the pool and says "water" until you put her in it. Chris and I do recognize that from this point forward, our vacations will be shaped by her need to be in the pool. There are worse things.


Easter morning.



Meredith taking her first ride on a horse. Her Auntie Beth, ever the equestrian, was her sponsor on this 50 cent ride. Beth, will you be her sponsor when she wants a pony?


Awwww...