Captain May Boo

Mary Brooks got into costume, shuffled down the hall in Mac's way-too-big "pirate boots," and charmed the pants off me yesterday. So glad I got this on video!

"Got my hat, got my patch, got my coat, got my pants, got my boots, got my sword."
(Wow. What are you?)
"I'm Captain May Boo!"

Ob-la-di

Life goes on.

Cupcake face - he gets it from his mama.

Two months after we brought Mary Brooks home (again), life is going on. Cupcakes and crying and collective fits of giggles are going on.

Some days moments I feel like I'm treading water, but for the most part I am soaking in what our new normal looks like: grateful, messy, mindful, sweet and a little crazy.

Date night at Zac Brown. Watch out, world!

And also covered in hair - mine, Blue's and Mary Brooks'. The dark hair just keeps on a-fallin'. Two of the three of us are practically balding at this point; the other is just shedding his winter coat. I think we're about to see Baby Bangs: Part Deux, so get excited for that little sequel.

Mac wraps up school this week, taking a much-needed three-month hiatus from the rigorous academic schedule that is preschool. He has learned so much and grown by leaps and bounds this year; it breaks my heart to look back at the "first day" pics from last fall.

Two-thirds eyeball, one-third cheek. Love her.

But time marches on even if my brain still thinks it's mid-February. (The temperatures are sweltering and Labor Day-like, which you'd imagine would remind me it's no longer winter, but alas...)

Mary Brooks is cooing and smiling so infectiously that I morph into an unrecognizable caricature of myself when she beams in my general direction. Bon Jovi must have been watching his newborn grin when he scribbled his "shot through the heart" line, because this little bean sure knows how to get to us.

This fool is plum crazy.

(Actually, I'm playing the rest of that song in my head and I'm quite confident he wrote it about someone decidedly NOT a newborn.)

In feeling a lot more like myself, my brain has returned to its usual deep pursuits: celebrity gossip, mindless internet browsing and avoiding chores like a pro. Case in point: I've watched this trailer for the upcoming Great Gatsby remake more than a few times. How will we wait 'til Christmas to see it on the big screen?

I am currently working on a proposal that has me like:



My ability to laugh at myself has emerged unscathed, and I've found middle school humor never goes out of style. B doesn't share my enthusiasm for the Tumblrs that share these images, but I could amuse myself for hours there. Hello, procrastination!

And Kate Middleton FTW is back en force, too, which makes me giddy.

In other news, we had a little celebration last Saturday to thank some of the friends who took such wonderful care of us, both near and from afar, when MB was in the hospital. We have a few more of these to throw, as the number of people who carried us through that time couldn't fit into our house and onto our patio at once, much less find room to eat barbecue.

And we really want time to thank every last friend, hug them and make non-hospital-based conversation. To truly, fully transition back into post-trauma life.

I was so 'busy' hosting last Saturday that I took no pictures. Not a SINGLE one. It's a crying shame! Thankfully our friend Erin took one and posted it on her blog today.

My best bloggers: Lyndsey, Megan and Erin

We're hosting our small group early next month (I believe the date I quoted in an email to everyone was the @th, further proof I've "done lost my mind") and I promise to take pictures then. I want to remember all of this, for our sake and for Mary Brooks'.



This is the first song we heard after returning to church with a healed MB a while back. Tell me that's a coincidence; it's my life mantra. I'm okay, but I'm not okay. More than anything, I am not the same.

I still can't sing it without choking up, but this version is on constant repeat nonetheless chez Smith.

I have so much to tell you and a lot of news to share in the coming week or two. Once I get into a summer groove, I hope to be posting regularly and reminding myself through these written words that I'm still me. Different, but still me. And although I'd take back what happened in a heartbeat, I wouldn't change how we've grown.

It hurt like all my thousands of words could never say. And it still hurts.

But we're here, breathing and happy. May I never stop singing His praises for it. We've been called to tell this story and to live out our lives in a way that puts this pain to good use. I can't wait to tell you what that looks like and ask you for help in doing it!

Thank you for being here, sweet friends. xoxo

If You're Happy and You Know It...

Mac's Mimi taught him to "dance" a few weeks ago, and he's been rocking out every since. When his "Jesus Loves Me" bear sings, it's bouncing time. When I sing him some tunes from our Sunday School class, he starts breaking it down. Every now and then, he dances exclusively out of excitement - no music required.

I caught one such moment on camera and it makes me smile! Babies have a way of finding joy in the simplest things - in this case, the fact that Mac's dad came into the room and was waving at him.

(Please ignore my chatter at the end; I was trying to get Mac to squeeze all his party tricks into one video. Maybe I'll get pattycake and high fives another day!)

Friday Sweetness

B caught Mac snoring like an old man in our backseat. Poor thing was a bit sweaty, too - these backward-facing babes don't get all the air conditioning we grown-ups do.

Watching him makes me want to kiss those cheeks and steal those incredible lashes. Thought you might enjoy a little Friday sweetness too.

(He must have been dreaming about his paci - or maybe a sippy cup of sweet tea?)

Happy Friday!!

Who Needs To Age Well?

I was captivated by this excited 81-year-old man's story: After 62 years apart, he is flying to see his high school sweetheart - and is nervous as can be.

I found myself anxious for Jack and hopeful that his plans to give Betty "not just one" kiss would turn out for the best. Having a camera capturing the moment raised the stakes even higher...

His back-up plan, going to live with his mother, didn't seem that terrible to me, though. If you're in your eighties and your mom is not only still alive but also independent, sing hallelujah!

Take a peek at his sweet story, captured by his filmmaker seatmate. If only there were a postscript!



It's comforting, as I approach another birthday, to know that you don't have to "age well" to have the heart of the man you love.

Perhaps such an endearment is better kept to oneself, though. I hope B doesn't feel the need to comment on how I've aged in fifty years; sticking around will be quite enough for me.

Mac on the Move

Neither rug nor chocolate lab nor slippery hardwoods will come in between this man and his mama. I love our sweet crawler!

He's been crawling for nearly a month, but yesterday he seemed particularly determined - slapping his hands on the floor and concentrating intently on the finish line: me.

If you look closely at the end, you'll see he's pulling up; Mac loves to stand with his hands on my shoulders. Wish I could get that on camera but my arms just aren't long enough!

Just a little evidence that our man's on the move...

(P.S. B will love this video because it proves his theory that I never actually close any interior doors all the way. He'll walk through the house closing them and I can hear the "click, click, click" as he goes around. Oops! Yes, B, the pantry door is slightly ajar. You win!)

Because It's Friday...

Just because it's Friday - and also because few things are cuter than a dancing baby!

I'd love to see this little man in Zumba; I bet everyone would really step up their game! He could definitely samba circles around me...

The moves he busts out starting around the 2:15 mark absolutely kill me. Still in diapers and already way more skilled at shaking his hips than I'll ever be. What a killer workout, too - he must have quads of steel!

Enjoy - and happy weekend!

"I Can Do ANYTHING Good!"

Now here is an attitude worth emulating!



Aren't there days when we need to say this to ourselves? Or to one another? I could give you a bulleted list in half a second of everything that makes you fabulous. Seriously. Try me.

But as for me? I'm staring at unfolded laundry, curtain rods and window treatments that need to be hung, clothes waiting to be packed, closets that could use organizing, unwritten emails, unaddressed invitations and a mess of baby bangs.

Today's the day to tell myself, "I can do ANYTHING good!" Adverbs be darned.

Now I'm off to get to it! If I copy her positivity, could I get this little doll's hair, too?

Une Petite Histoire

If I were twenty years younger, brilliant and French, I'd like to believe I'd be something like this little dreamer. And have her vivid imagination, captivating manner of storytelling and wide, wonder-filled eyes. Utterly adorable.

I stumbled upon this video while reading an expat's blog. Press play and see if you aren't glued to your screen waiting for the ending of this bound-to-be-on-the-big-screen fairytale!



I can't decide if she's going to look more like Audrey Tautou or Audrey Hepburn when she grows up!

There's something infectious about a tiny thing speaking "baby" French in such a fast, furious and fantastical way. (Yes, fantastical is a word. I thought I invented it some years back but Merriam-Webster corrected me.)

Almost makes me want to raise Mac in Paris. But we'd miss Bradley and Blue too much... You know they're Yankee Doodles through and through.

Think I'll go dust off my French textbooks now! Elle est tres mignonne, n'est-ce pas?

Tickled Tuesday

If this doesn't make your morning better - scratch that. It absolutely will. Happy Tuesday, y'all!

The lights really have gone out in Georgia...

Who didn't love Julia Sugarbaker?

Her fiery grace, her self-assured gait, her ability to scathe with a smile and a lilt in her voice. She was fiercely loyal and passionately protective of those she loved. She knew what she believed in and wouldn't settle for anything less.

Who didn't want to be her when we grew up? Sure, Suzanne was beautiful, Mary Jo was sweet and Charlene was, well, bless her heart. I never did want to be Charlene.

But Julia - Julia was the force to be reckoned with. A woman who wouldn't leave things unsaid, but never said too much. Unlike me, the perfect response came in the moment, not three hours after a conversation concluded. That cutting, absolutely on-point comeback was right on the tip of her tongue and somehow never made her seem any less ladylike or in control. She wasn't demure, but was undoubtedly an old school Southern belle.

Just like you'll see embroidered on a gift store pillow (don't deep thoughts belong on pillows?): A Southern woman is a Mack truck disguised as a powder puff. Such was the example Julia Sugarbaker set.

And the woman who brought her to life, Dixie Carter, seemed to carry those very same traits. I remember squealing and running to the TV when I saw her speak at a Miss America pageant one year. (And I was well past five years old at the time. That's how happy she makes me.) She embodied charm and grace with a forthright demeanor - a rare combination.

I was so sad to hear that Dixie Carter passed away this past weekend. She will be missed.

Here's one of her most famous scenes, standing up for her sister and scaring the goodness out of Miss Georgia. I love how she ends her diatribe, "Well now you do..." No one could have done it better. The lights really have gone out in Georgia.

Don't You Just Love This?

It took having a baby for me to understand the ceaseless, selfless and limitless love my parents have had for me from day one. Why would a mom hop in a car with just a few hours' notice? Simply because her twenty-something, married, new mom daughter asked her to... (To be fair, I didn't even have to ask.)

When I saw this video today, I realized it also might be because my parents still see snaggle-teeth, freckles and pigtails when they look at me. No matter - I'm grateful whatever the reason is!

Mac and I have been home fighting his respiratory virus today and this made me smile. Hope you enjoy!



*courtesy of Steph at Smiling in the South

You may get a cavity from watching this....

...but I loved it. Wish I could get Blue and some buddies to sport pajamas and have a peaceful li'l slumber party at our place!




(via PopWatch)

A Christmas Conspiracy

Everyone seems to struggle with the balance of a traditional family Christmas focused on the holiday's real meaning and the frenzied, cultural Christmas that promotes irrational consumerism and meaningless "things" in place of true celebration and generosity.

We saw this video in church a few weeks ago and I loved it. When Brooke included it, along with her own thoughts on the subject, on her blog today I had to snag it. (I even figured out how to post video for this very reason. FINALLY!)

Take a look:



How are you working to make your holiday more meaningful this year? In the economic crisis our country faces, I'm hopeful that people may begin to look for more significance this Christmas than just a pile of presents. I'd love to hear your thoughts! Enjoy the video - and here's wish you a Christmas focused on the holy-day, not just the holiday bustle.

Anne circa 1999 would be squealing right now

Stevie Nicks covers and pays tribute to a certain David John Matthews. Watch here.

What's that you say??

Many of you may not have been exposed to the sheer kinetic joy of graduate school ballet class and the accompanying addiction to the movie Center Stage, as my lovely friend Kristen and I were.

If not, you may not have been infected with delightful but relentless ear candy that is Jamiroquai's song. I'm not going to give you the title quite yet, because I want you to watch this clip with an open mind.

You've got what in your heels, Jamiroquai?? (Listen for yourself by skipping ahead to 6:40. Better yet, enjoy the whole performance but listen carefully towards the end.)

Center Stage - Final Dance Scene

So these gorgeous, talented and exuberant young dancers are expressing themselves onstage in a piece that represents the culmination of their rigorous years of training. The song suits the scene perfectly, and it's an iTunes favorite when I'm on the treadmill. (Or trying to get motivated to drive to the gym.)

In the years since I first bought a ticket to see this gem on the silver screen - the better part of decade for those who are counting - I have been singing the song with the wrong lyrics!

Last week this song was featured on my all-time favorite reality show, So You Think You Can Dance, which lists song titles and artists on-screen at the start of each routine. I was shocked to determine that Jamiroquai does not, as I had so long believed, have candy in his heels.
What does he have? Canned heat.

Every time I listen to it now, it becomes clearer and clearer. But for those ten thousand Center Stage viewings of old, I was singing the wrong words with more enthusiasm than I could muster for just about any movie or song these days. Kind of embarassing to think about.

Add in the leotards and tights we wore and the jelly beans we snacked on, and my co-ballet felon (thus named because we were known to skip class to watch this movie) Kristen and I were probably quite a sight. I still love us, though.

(Let me digress to say that I've got to find the pictures of us teaching Bradley the proper first, second and third positions at a cook-out in Columbia. The boy has awful turn-out, let me tell you - and I'm one to talk.)

I've heard examples of the "classic" misheard lyrics like there's a "bathroom on the right" instead of "bad moon on the rise" but I'm interested to see if y'all have any similarly embarassing slips you'd like to share.

The more public, the better - I just admitted that we wore black leotards and pink tights over the age of 21, y'all. (And I think even 8 is pushing the cute factor on that particular ensemble...)

Happy Thursday!

Pig in Boots

Can Cotton please get a tiny pair of rain boots like this pig's? Apparently, this precious British porker is afraid of the mud, so her owner set her up with a sweet pair of wellies. Love it!

Pig in Boots