2009 was a strange year for us. The strangest thing was that we didn't go anywhere. No trips out East to visit family, no vacation, and nobody from far away came to visit us. Not that we are always running around, but we usually manage at least one big Away. Or, historically, a big move across country. When I looked through our pictures for the year, the impression is one of simple daily life. Nothing flashy. Nobody had any health scares. None of our pets crossed over to the other side. Other family members had more of a shaper focus year, both good and bad. My mom spent the year in turmoil trying to find her feet after a divorce; my sister became a mama. There were a lot of the more subtle moments for us, however, that I can see in our pictures. A favorite from each month:
The kids were having a major wrestling session, the girls trying to get Garrett out of way of the freezer. This picture is special in how all three are truly playing together. I have a whole series of these as the kids pushed and pulled and tugged, laughing the whole time. Ellery was newly 2, and finally able to really participate in whatever the big kids do. She wasn't just The Baby anymore, but a Sister. These pictures were the first to really show that.
February:
This is a rocket. I laid down on the floor of the basement level to get this shot, while irritated people walked over me. Rick could tell you exactly what rocket this is and its significance. All I can tell you is I like this picture. As a family, we have always loved museums, science centers, and aquariums. We love going back to them over and over, and they start to feel like home to us. I don't think we could live in an area without places like this. As much as I dislike living in a heavily populated area, I do love wandering around a giant, airy museum made out of glass on a sunny day. The environment of spaciousness, calm, organization, knowledge...the black signs inscribed with captions, the flat colorful carpet, happy kids everywhere, elderly people as volunteers...but most importantly, the feeling I get from being in a place filled with what is good about humanity. I need that. Need. Even museums that showcase terrible times are still good.
March:
Baby hair in pigtails for the first time. I love this shot because it shows that time between baby and little girl for Ellery. Not because of the pigtails, which she allowed me to inflict on her only two times before putting a swift end to it, but because I can almost feel her nuzzly chubby neck and ear, and she still had that wispy baby hair. Brenna is always looking at pictures of Ellery and lamenting about how much she misses the baby fuzz.
March
We were walking back from the high school football field after doing our mentos/diet coke experiments with family when I saw something I needed to get. The rest walked on while I lied down on the sidewalk, nearly face down, in a pile of ants no less. I always chafe at changing directions such as going for a walk when I am in the midst of needing to clean out the refrigerator, but when I do, I am always happier. And I slow down and notice things better. 2009 had precious little in the way of these kinds of pictures for me. 2010 will have more.
May
Our first vegetable garden, very very simple. Rick built the surround, and Ellery and I went to a yucky garden center filled with rude biddies to get the vegetables. It took a while for Ellery to realize that we only plant things once, not over and over again. But I didn't mind. The corn never grew right before rotting, and we didn't eat the hot peppers, the tomatoes were fantastic, the kids loved the lettuce, but they loved watching it all grow even more. I learned an amazing amount of garden don'ts, and I also learned that to grow what we would want to grow, we need about 15 more of these things.
June
Ah, the fixture of our backyard, Summer 09: bowls and cups and dishes of tea, or soup, or whatever you want to call the concoctions Brenna made with pansies and leaves and roots and dirt. She would crush the pansies and let them soak, and the water would turn the most beautiful deep purple. She got fussed at more than once when I saw some of the giant hosta leaves missing or leaves being plucked from my frail little lilac that only had about 20 to begin with. What's worse, once these bowls of precious tea are made, no one is allowed to touch them. Ever. Not even 2 year olds who don't understand. There were days I sent them out to play, calling out across the yard, "and no tea today!"
Really, I appreciate her cleverness. I thought it was pretty. I was glad she could come up with something so simple and childlike to do with her time, without needing anything other than a vessel. But dang. We didn't have a lot of flowers to choose from, or leaves, either. We had to go around the yard and designate which could be used and which couldn't. Weeds were free to anyone. And Mama got a little itchy about all the vats of slimy, rotting, science experiment-worthy goo all over the yard everywhere she looked.
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