What's more loving...

Than this?

Before:

After:

This is Emma's second donation to Locks of Love.

Both times I have grieved this haircut- I love her hair when it is long.  But I can't grieve very long, because I quickly remember WHY she has cut her hair.  I imagine another child wearing Emma's golden hair, and I can't help but smile.  

I haven't had the heart to fully explain why those beautiful children need her hair, and it amazes me how willing she is to give with no greater explanation than, "They are sick right now and can't grow hair on their own, so they need help by wearing a wig from someone else's hair."

Wow.  I love that kid.

Happy Love Thursday!  More here.

Oh yeah, and PS?  My husband- yes, my husband!  Donated 10" of his hair to Locks of Love as well.  What a great guy! 

Dad, Dad He's Our Man...

C'mon- you know it's corny cute!

Crown of Contentment

“My crown is in my heart, not in my head, 

Nor decked with diamonds and Indian stones, 

Nor to be seen; my crown is called contentment; 

A crown it is, that seldom kings enjoy”

~William Shakespeare

To Swing or Not to Swing?

Swing!

How do you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!
Up in the air and over the wall,
Till I can see so wide,
Rivers and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside—
Till I look down on the garden green,
Down on the roof so brown—
Up in the air I go flying again,
Up in the air and down! - Robert Louis Stevenson

Choo Choo Love

What is it about trains and little boys?

It starts as curiosity, then so quickly you almost miss it- it moves to a consuming passion. 

You begin with maybe a few trains, a couple pieces of track.  Next thing you know, you have a train table, buckets of trains of all colors and types.  Metal, wood, electric, noisy... Then you move on to train conductor hats, train whistles, it becomes all consuming.

And then it seems, as you reach the train pinnacle and you feel you can't handle one more "choo choo", one more "chugga chugga", the obsession begins to wane.  But when that happens, you realize, it wasn't only your child touched by this train magic.  You start to try to persuade your child to join you in some train time.  You build big, elaborate train tracks, complete with hills and turns, and maybe a few twists.  You start making the "choo choo" and "chugga chugga" sounds.  Then you turn around and find you are playing with the trains.  Alone. 

How do I know all this?  How, you ask, have I become this consummate  self-proclaimed expert?  Well, you see, I've been there before.

And this is how it all begins...  Choo choo love.

Oh, and just so you know?  You are in for some major turbulence when the train playing is coupled with helmet wearing.  Big Trouble.  Huge.

Happy Love Thursday, everyone.  Check out more via Chookooloonks.

Swim

(verb) propel the body through water by using the limbs...

Most of us, swimming against the tides of trouble the world knows nothing about, need only a bit of praise or encouragement - and we will make the goal.  ~Jerome Fleishman

Time Keeps on Slippin'...

How many of you are singing that song now?

How do we slow it down?  Is it possible?  How do we take these days that seem to drag on for too long, and make them drag on even longer?  There are so many days that I am willing the night to be here.  Willing it to be bedtime for the little folk, only for it to start all over the next day.  But I fear I am willing away my very best years.  My most precious moments.  And if I keep willing them away, and reaching for this future that is so unpredictable, will I miss out and forget the present that is surrounding me, calling me to take part?  I want it to slow down.

My monkey-in-the-middle has had a birthday.  He is now a year older.  He is stretching himself into this future that I am trying to drag my feet against.  Plug my ears against.  Close my eyes against.  Yet, every time I open my eyes again, there he is- taller, heavier, stronger, funnier, smarter... growing. 

How do I describe this wonderful child?  I have been so blessed to be in his presence for the past six years.  Six years doesn't sound like too many- but look what has happened in those six years!  It's a lifetime to this little guy.  It's a blink of an eye to me.  I have watched him discover, learn, laugh, cry.  He is so desperate to be a "guy", yet I still see that little boy, that baby.  My baby.  

Charlie was named for my grandfather, and he has more than lived up to that name.  I think my Papa would be proud to share his name with my Charlie.  Since the day he was born, Charlie has had the uncanny ability to make me smile.  It started with his noises, his cuddles, his baby-rolls, and has far too quickly transitioned to his jokes, his "Charlie-isms", and his chicken legs.  But the one thing that has never changed is his smile.  Charlie can light up a room with his smile.  You can see it shine out through his eyes.  You can't help but feel it's warmth. 

So today I feel a push and a pull inside me.  A push to keep this future from coming, and a pull to see all that is in store.  I have seen six years grow on this boy.  If I look real hard, I can see a glint of the man he will become.  I can see it by the way he treats his sibling with love and respect.  I can see it by the way he cares for his Mommy and Daddy.  I can see it in the way he is so quick to laugh and so desperate to be brave, but so unabashed when crying out in fear or unfairness.  I can see.  I just hope I continue to keep my eyes open, so I won't miss a moment.

Happy Birthday, my sweet boy.

“In the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures. For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.”

~ Kahlil Gibran

Here I go, here I go, here I go...

Again!

A year.  One whole year.  Actually, one whole year and 3 months.

I'm starting slow.  Not too much writing, but hopefully still a lot to see.  

After all, this blog IS titled Picture This... we'll just keep the emphasis on picture.

So, here I go again.  

Enjoy.