How a Memory is Made

Grandy’s been visiting the past week. This means laundry has been put away after taking a turn in the dryer instead of the usual “clean hamper” dump. Sleeping in occurred for the mama as I pretended like I couldn’t hear kiddos waking up. Outings happened as best we could manage, although our wet, chilly, windy weather didn’t oblige to our efforts.

Still, we managed to dye two dozen Easter eggs that were very gently (sarcasm) thrown overhand into the lavender bushes or hidden inside the train table for our hunts. I guess we’ll know in a few days if we actually found them all or not.

The kids rode their own giraffes on the carousel for the very first time! You must understand that Selah Grace took the first two years watching friends ride and cheering them on happily, but was NOT going to get on herself. We spent a fair amount of time this past year riding as a family on the stationary bench of the carousel. Now that she is nearing 4, she feels ready to give her own giraffe a go. Maybe in a few more months she’ll upgrade to a horse that actually goes up and down. As for Josiah, he’s wondering why we wasted our time on the bench and haven’t been doing this dare-devilish-riding all along.

Sometimes you strike gold with pictures like this, where everyone is doing their own thing while having lunch beside the pond. Josiah is stoked about the duck a few feet in front of him.

And because I can’t NOT celebrate a holiday. And because celebrating to me means going out in the world and being a part of the bigger, culminating crazy. And because my husband knows this about me and loves me, we went to the St. Patty’s parade at the edge of Balboa Park. In the wind. In the rain. No umbrellas. With kids. Bring it.

A true family outing, some of us whined and some of us over-exaggerated how great it all was to keep up the positivity. By the end we all came away very wet, but with good memories. Nate’s favorite might be that right after I took this pic below, the little Shetland pony pulling the fairy cart in the background laid down in the middle of the street for a good five minutes to take a break. Or perhaps it was watching the next group of roller-derby girls push each other down in the wet prizes these little ponies left on the street. Since no animal or person got hurt, I was glad there was some redeemable aspect of the wet parade experience for Nate because I need him to continue to say yes to my excited, last minute plans of, “Hey! There’s a parade at 10:30, let’s all go! It’s raining, but it’ll be fine!” Usually I try to throw in the clencher, “It’s FREE!” just to make my argument for why we should go do something like drive downtown on a non-holiday, holiday and stand for two hours in the swirling rain without appropriate clothing sound like a fantastic idea. It was.

Oh yeah. And then this happened toward the end of Grandy’s visit. Josiah locked himself in his room. I spent 30 minutes trying to get in the lock with bobby pins, paper clips, and tiny flathead screwdrivers and a few worthless second trying to saw the handle off. Then I spent another 15 minutes just beating the Beetlejuice out of the door handle with a mallet trying to break it off; it just bent. At this point I threw in the towel and called our local fire station to ask if they could please send a fireman to break it off. They sent a whole truck with seven guys and a giant ax/crow-bar. And now we get to forever be telling Josiah the story of how when he was just a little toddler he locked himself in his room and the fire department had to come break him out. I was a little too preoccupied with comforting Josiah and talking with the firemen to remember to ask for a posed picture with him and the guys by the truck in front of our house. But I did get this blurry iphone shot for the photo books.

Even though it was a kind of “dull”, rainy week around here we still managed to make some memories. The funny thing about making memories is that most of the time you aren’t aware that’s what’s happening in the moment. But when the day or week has finished, when you have time and a breath to look back, you get to see just how many you made. Thankfully moments don’t wait around for me to tell them to be memories. They just are and I get the benefit of receiving them.

1 thought on “How a Memory is Made

  1. So fun Jenny! Your mom is beautiful as ever. Now when Josiah is a teenager and locks himself in his room you can say things like, “don’t make me call the fire department again!!” 🙂


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