Herbstfest 2009

Ava playing princess in the park

Despite the looming threat of rain, this year’s Herbstfest emerged as an enjoyable experience for everyone, at least in the Smith family. In fact, I’d venture to say even Erik had a smidgen of fun himself. Per tradition (which—as many know—Ava and I hold very dear), we ate food and Ava bounced on Friday night. Hudson made his first Herbstfest appearance, smiling, schmoozing, and otherwise being adorable. Then on Saturday Ava and I returned with my parents for more food, more bouncing, park play, and the now-famous purchasing of pumpkins. Finally, on Sunday, Ava and I attended the parade with the usual gang of friends and family.

What a fest! What a time! Here are some additional photos to commemorate our memories:

Bouncing confidently this year!

Observing the parade in all its glory

Hudson laughing with Jill & Sandy

Naptime

I had forgotten what it was like to schedule life around the sleeping patterns of an infant. Oh, yeah, NOW I REMEMBER!

Big Boy Photos

Here are some samples from Hudson's three-month-photo-shoot with Olan Mills. I still haven't ordered yet (which explains the ubiquitous Olan Mills copyright plastered over the pics), but I nevertheless wanted to share the cuteness that is my son.

If anyone is interested in ordering, let me know. I'm purchasing the rights to the photos, so I can print any size portrait at Wal-Mart myself.

Couple of Cuties Part I

Lil' Helper

Last week at preschool, Ava was Miss Nichole's HELPER. According to Ava, this means she performed several important duties: (1) Hold the flag for the Pledge of Allegiance, (2) Pass out napkins during snacktime, and (3) Bring the classroom pet, Spots, home for the weekend.

Apparently all three tasks were equally thrilling for her.

However, I personally enjoyed making a scrapbook page to highlight her weekend with Spots the Giraffe. Call me a crazy-overly-attached mother, but I not only took a photo of this scrapbook page to preserve it for all posterity, but I am taking such craziness one step further and posting it here to share with everyone. Enjoy!

Fun Letters

I got this from a church bulletin. It's probably the English teacher in me, but I found it rather interesting. Rearrange the letters and you get:

astronomer
moon starer

the eyes
they see

dormitory
dirty room

election results
lies, let's recount

snooze alarms
alas, no more z's

mother-in-law
woman hitler

The Great Pumpkin Disaster

Last Halloween, Ava and I were quite fond of our pumpkins (refer to last year's post for details). So fond, in fact, that we couldn't quite bring ourselves to dispose of our prized jack-o-lanterns at the end of the holiday. Yes, I admit it, we allowed them to simmer in their own juices, slowly rotting into nothingness and disappearing into our front yard. Perhaps not our brightest idea.

However....

Imagine our surprise when, this spring, a suspicious-looking series of thick vines protruded from our lawn and began twisting themselves around our front porch! What? Could it be? Dare we hope? PUMPKINS?!?

Thus, our pumpkin pleasure returned two-fold when we realized we could take our mania one step further and actually CARVE OUR OWN HOME-GROWN PUMPKINS! Oh, wonders never cease! Rapturously, Ava and I watched those vines grow, stretch, thicken, and flower. With bated breaths, we waited for a baby pumpkin to appear. Finally, a fledgling jack-o-lantern. Oh, excitement! Oh, joy! Oh, unexpected holiday cheer!

Then came Erik. He complained about the vines. They were unsightly. He could hardly be expected to mow around them. They needed to be disposed of immediately. For weeks, for months, Ava and I begged for the lives of our pumpkins. Each time he walked past the porch, every day he mowed, he made comments. We begged. He made comments. This went on and on and on.

And then....The. Great. Pumpkin. Disaster.

Yes, he accidentally mowed over them. Cut them down in their prime. They barely had time to develop that beautiful charcteristic orange color. Now these pumpkins too are rotting in the yard. And this vicious cycle can begin again.

Maybe next year....

What a World!

A Trip Down Memory F!&#%ing Lane

Recently, I was chatting with a few friends who also happen to be avid readers of this blog. Like me, they are devout fans of the Ava-isms of my daughter. Amid much laughter and head-shaking, we were reminiscing about various statements that had come from her mouth, some stealthily, some adorably, and some UNABASHEDLY BRAZENLY. It was at this moment that one of these friends reminded me of a declaration that—for whatever reason—did not make it onto the website. In fact, I believe this particular event occurred pre-blog.

Friend: You HAVE to write about that one time, Lori!

Me: What? And admit that myself and my daughter aren’t perfect? ARE YOU CRAZY?

Friend: It is hands-down the funniest thing she has ever said. COME ON!

Despite my parental embarrassment at this particular Ava-ism, I cannot deny that it is the funniest darn story from her repertoire. Furthermore, I will admit that my response to it was immediate and unsquealchable laughter.

So here it is, for your reading pleasure:

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Imagine, if you will, the most sleepless night of your life. One rife with ticking clocks, barking dogs, and heavy eyelids. One where you toss and turn, your mind riddled with senseless thoughts, the temperature in the room either too cold or too warm. You can’t get comfortable. You can’t slip into blessed dreamland.

Oops, I’m sorry, this is not a story about a sleepless night. It’s a story about a SLEEPLESS TODDLER. Unless you have personally experienced the vast difference between these two affairs, you will never understand the motivation behind this story. NEVER. It’s not your fault, of course, but still….NEVER!

Here’s the situation. Ava was having trouble settling down for the night—a school night, I might add. While my husband blissfully dozed in the next room, I was performing a desperate bedtime-sleep-inducing-tap-dance in Ava’s bedroom. For a warm-up, we read a pile of books the approximate height of our neighbor Bill’s two-story home. We spent long, loving minutes selecting the perfect stuffed animal to accompany her to dreamland. Then we dimmed the lights and cuddled together in her small toddler bed.

When none of these entrapments worked, Ava suggested watching a movie, so I caved. We enjoyed approximately ninety minutes of Bee Movie. It was then that I sensed she had finally slipped off to sleep. Ever so gently, I pried myself away from her warm, snuggly body. Without a whisper, I delicately rearranged her princess blanket. In the darkened room, I unearthed the remote and turned off the television. The thrill of success warred with the overpowering weariness of a wife/mother/teacher at the end of a long day. Tiptoe by tiptoe, I began the short trek to my own warm bed.

Then from behind me….

Ava: Where are you going?

Mommy: Me? TO BED! Like any normal person at 1:00 A.M.!

Ava (sighing heavily): Can we please watch my unicorn movie? Then I’ll go to bed.

It was at this point a wild roaring erupted somewhere in the middle of my brain. I don’t remember exactly what I did; I only know that I ended up in my own bedroom and had apparently woken up Erik, who was staring groggily at me.

Daddy: What’s going on?

Mommy: She’s still awake! At 1:00 A.M.! We read books! We snuggled! We watched Bee Movie! She’s still awake!

I took a deep breath. I stared into my husband’s bleary eyes—eyes that had previously been closed in blissful sleep. I heard a buzzing chorus of Mommy-Mommy-Mommy from the next room. And, I’m afraid, I lost it a bit.

Mommy: AND NOW SHE WANTS TO WATCH THAT F!&#%ING UNICORN MOVIE!

Then, from behind me, came a flurry of little feet. A warm, very awake body slammed into my pajama-clad legs. A furious little voice rose above mine.

Ava: No, Mommy! It’s not F!&#%ING unicorn movie! It’s HAPPY unicorn movie!

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True story, I SWEAR.