It suddenly occurs to me that most of my life seems to be lived in preparation for or anticipation of something else. It also occurs to me that this is very sad. Apparently, I am so busy trying to prepare for my “real” life, that I don’t realize I am living my real life right now, right here, and if I don’t slow down, I may miss it.

It’s so easy to get caught up in all the unimportant stuff, and therefore miss what truly matters.

So today, in an attempt to slow down and live in the moment, Otter and I stacked doughnuts (or donuts if you are spellcheck). We spent a good hour sitting on the floor, mastering the art of doughnut stacking and snacking on a pumpkin muffin. Near the end of the hour, Otter, wearing an expression of intense concentration, picked up a green doughnut, reached out to the stacking peg, and delicately and deliberately placed it on. All by himself.

Of course, I had to take pictures.

I was too busy shrieking “Yay Baby!!” to capture the actual self stacking moment, but it happened! I was there to bear witness to my brilliant baby’s new accomplishment!

I finally did it! I finally filed my first case! After months of balancing a new baby, a six year old, and legal research, I have finished the complaint, sent it off to local counsel, and am officially suing the government. Oh Yeah! What did I do to celebrate this amazing merging of law and motherhood? Let me show you:

I bought myself an 8.1 MP Canon Rebel SLR digital camera. This working mom will not miss any more precious baby smiles because my camera won’t capture the image fast enough. This camera clicks away at the speed of… well, a real camera. You will likely see more pictures in the blog from now on. I am sure while I get used to the new toy you will see pictures of the kids, the husband, the pets, random shoes, the trees outside my home, pretty much anything you can point a camera at. I promise to eventually be more choosy, but for now, I am simply taking pictures of everything I see. It is so much fun!

Now I am off to capture life on film!

My Grandpa Ralph lived on a farm in eastern Colorado. My childhood is peppered with the scent memories of dust, wheat, and land in various stages of growth. I remember the quiet, and the dark, so different from those things in the city. I remember the false rug painted on the wooden floor, the old combine we would clamber around on, and the rooms full of my father’s and aunt’s childhood artifacts. What I remember the most though, is my Grandpa waving to us from the path, every time we drove away.

The path was really, really long. We would say our goodbyes, give our hugs and kisses, get in the car, and he would come into the lane. As we slowly drove off his arm would raise, his face would light up with a smile, and he would wave. And wave, and wave, and wave. He would wave and I would stare out the back window of the car waving back. I would watch him until we turned onto the main road, when he would lower his arm and turn to go back inside the house.

He never stopped waving to us. It wasn’t just something he did when I was small. I remember watching out the back window as a teenager, too cool to admit I would have been crushed if the tradition hadn’t continued, and relieved and pleased to discover he was still there, waving.

My Grandpa’s waving is what keeps me standing outside my daughter’s school in the morning, in all types weather, waving and smiling and blowing kisses as she runs inside. I never get back into the car before she gets into the building. I never turn to walk back home until she is completely inside. I remember how nice it is to be able to look back over your shoulder, time and time again, and always see someone waving to you.