A Kindergartner

This is what a kindergartner looks like.

She's anticipated this day for quite some time and was so excited when the morning finally arrived, probably mostly to finally be able to wear her uniform, but excited none the less.

And though I thought I was ready, the truth came out the night before, like I was the one about to walk into a huge school and start my life of learning. 

She has been in "school" since she was two and a half. I should be an old pro at this, right? But no. It's so different. She has always attended small, sweet schools where I could look her teacher in the eye and chat about my child everyday at drop off and pick up. Schools where the teachers would tell Ny they love her on a daily basis, and kiss her, and hug her. Schools where she was free to be a kid. And now, my sweet baby being one of almost 800 other kids. I flipped, my mind filled with what-ifs.

And she wanted to ride the bus. But, after drop off the first day, I realized that her school is a loving place. She walked in like a superstar, meeting up with all the neighborhood kids as they exited the bus. And I got to say hey to the teacher and watch her settle in, though she just wanted me to go, thank goodness.

I am that parent and can't help it, not one bit.

And the highlight of her day? Throwing the food she didn't eat at lunch away, like in the garbage. No left overs at school. And showing her teacher that she could tie her shoe. Thats all I got out of her because in true kindergartner style, all of my questions about her day were met with, "I don't know". 

But she is still not riding the bus. Baby steps (for momma).

The Chase

There are the funniest little bugs flying around here in Louisiana. They come out after a good rain, fly low to the ground, and look like a big, slow, lanky mosquito. And trust me, I know my mosquitoes. But the best part is, they don't bite. I am sure these bugs have a name and I should look that up, but I won't.


Nyah has been into bugs lately. Not into them as some, but into watching them from a distance and making characters out of them. This morning as I was walking inside, she was low to the ground looking at something and said, "Wait! You're going to step on my prisoner!" She had found an ant.


So, as we were enjoying the warm afternoon yesterday, Ny found one of the mosquito like bugs and began following him, but only mustered the courage to touch him with a stick. 


Finally, Elsa caught on to what Nyah was doing, walked over, grabbed the bug, examined it and in just a split second realized her power. She quickly looked at her sister, held the bug out and began chasing a screaming Nyah around the drive way, while George and I looked on laughing. 


And this, in a way, sums up the drastic difference in personality of these two sisters. Both so uniquely, both so wonderful. 

*And for the record, George and I aren't really that cruel. Nyah soon realized the humor in the situation and joined in our laughter, without loosing much speed.

Best Toy Ever

You know I am referring to a box, of course. 

She was on it before we could even remove the contents. And the moment the goods came out, she claimed it, moved it, and in true Elsa style, wanted to sit in it all alone, in silence with the lid closed, and for me to leave her the heck alone. I guess she's mediating or something. 


And this is me invading her privacy with my obnoxious camera. She can't escape. Sorry, Elsie.

It may look like she's smiling but that only because she has just yelled, "GO!" to me.

Boxes are such kid magnets, every time, without fail. So why do we even go there with other toys made of plastic and such (I am asking myself this very moment). 


Needless to say, I can't get her to come out. So if anyone needs Elsa, you know where to find her. In her box. But heed my warning- knock first.

Sharing Memories

How it warms my heart to see my girls run and play and ride in the same exact spot I did for so much of my childhood. 

Though the trees we used to climb are a little bigger,

and a bit more magical...

 ...the girls are still finding their way, facinated by pine cones on this particular day. They collected tons. 

Nothing better than (great)grandmas house. Kind of our Indiana equivalent to this special spot.

Big Living

As the days leading up to baby bruders birth day are quickly approaching, we are trying to take advantage of our final days as a family of four by getting out into the world and do as much as we can. All too soon our daily schedules will be at the mercy of feedings and nap times. 

We have been doing things island living never allowed us to do like visiting the zoo, big parks, awesome story times, and museums. 

These were always places we could expose the girls to while living on the island, especially on those rainy days when the beach wasn't a possibility. We have been trying to do it all. 

One of my favorite things about our daily adventures has been watching Nyah get used to the amenities of big mainland living, like elevators (pushing the button is the highlight of her life), moving walkways, escalators, automatically flushing toilets and sinks, and, of course, drinking fountains. It is funny to see a kid who isn't used to this stuff encounter these luxuries(?) for the first time. 

The automatically flushing toilet really threw her for a loop, she just stared at the toilet forever, insisting she needed to flush but unable to find the device until the toilet finally erupted with a mega flush. Like magic in her eyes. George gave quite the drinking fountain lesson the other day. We now can't pass one by without a sip. She is quickly learning the etiquette and proper way to do things but still gets the biggest kick when she encounters one of these mega inventions, and really, I can't blame her.

I must say, we are really enjoying the big life while island life will always remain in our hearts and a not so far thought away. Because as life is quickly teaching me, home to me is wherever my family is and the exact geographical location of that home isn't really that big of a deal anymore, just as long as we are together.

Compulsive Dresser Redo

Remember my crazy, nesting, obsessed with the need to make things compulsive behavior I wrote about the other day? Well, I am happy to report that storm has calmed a bit. Thank goodness, I think George was beginning to get a little scared. I wanted to share the finished flea market dresser we bought for the girls' room from the sweetest hillbilly ever. I am not kidding, I just wanted to hug him.

before

after

After numerous rolls of masking tape, I finally finished painting the dresser, but my inner calm only came after I was able to find these handles. 

I had some sort of feminine glass handles pictured in my mind and I just had to find them. Had to. So George, aka, the sweetest guy ever, drove me around to a million hardware stores (I felt like I was shopping in St. Croix again, trying to find a needle in a haystack) until I finally found these little beauts at, of all places, (I am embarrassed to say) Target. I am sure a quaint little antique store would have had way better ones but I am not familiar with the area and also just didn't have that kind of time because, hello, I was posessed. 


So thats it, I think I am finished being obsessively crafty. So I guess this is an official goodbye to my crafty side, not sure what this means, but its been real. Baby soon? Who know, I am finished trying to predict.

Sounds of Our Nights

Last night was a special night in our house. George was fixing the air conditioner in our room, trying to get our place in tip top shape for a renter, so as the AC was sealing, drying (something) and couldn't be used for twenty-four hours. 


Being that it is getting hot here, we are getting frequent showers (air is so stagnate prior to rain) and my thighs are rubbing together at this point in my pregnancy, I have been favoring that AC at night, actually craving it. The alternative is waking up drenched in sweat which is neither hot nor cool. Seriously. So since the AC was in repair, I prepped myself for an interesting night of rest, window open, fan on full blast (actually George wouldn't let me but on medium speed), I made my attempt. As I was lying there, alone, Elsa deep into her dreams (her crib is still in our room), I was overwhelmed by the sounds of the night. Sounds I used to be lulled to sleep by nightly.  

I am so thankful the noisy air machine broke down so I could be reminded of the soothing cadence of the bush dwellers symphony they put on each night. The relaxing melody could put anyone to sleep, including me. 


I found this video of a long, long time ago, and often revisit it not only because it captures a monumental moment in Elsie's life but because of the sounds. The sounds of the night. We were so concerned about Elsa as a baby that we wouldn't run the AC, worried that we might damage her precious lungs, wanting to give them every opportunity to mature, in fresh air only. Seems almost silly now. I remember crawling under her mosquito net this night, mesmerized by everything that was Elsa at seven months, not even realizing I was capturing some of my favorite sounds of our island home. The sound of the perfect summer night which St. Croix always is. 


Not sure if you can hear what I can, so turn up your volume and listen to the sweet rhythm.

I am so thankful I have this video to revisit on the nights I am lonely for St. Croix and her sounds, just one of the many things I will miss about this place.


I feel like I should just make a new category on here, Things I Will Miss About St. Croix. I could and am seriously considering it but that might just be pitiful. Moving on, I am. Really, I am trying. Trying real hard.

Her Secret

I was finally able to catch this rare shot of Elsa before her aerobics class last night.

Wait, how else do you think she maintains her amazing figure or we are able to get enough energy out of her to get her to go to bed at night?

Hard work my friends. Wow, they really grow up so fast.

Walking Shoes

Where will they go, who will they be, what challenges lie in their pathes. What does life have in store for these two beautiful girls? 


Whatever their journeys bring, I hope they remain as devoted, close and patient with each other as they show to be at times, times like these. 

Little sister trying to walk in big sisters shoes.

Big sister helping little put "The Converse" on, as she calls them, then trying to once again master the entire process of putting on shoes. The tie. 

She tries and tries again. At home and at school, slowing our every departure with her multiple attempts. Practice, practice, obsessive practice.

And little sister waits patiently and my mind wonders, contemplating the questions above, my soul at ease in a calm and peaceful smile, enjoying the moment with my most beloved. I then focus in on the situation and notice this. 

Hear the angels sing. Behold the accomplishment. She has done it. She tied the shoe. The first I've seen. 


Way to go wonderful sister, way to help your sister out. Don't ever stop.

Mango Bliss

First mango of the season. Devoured. All is good in her little world again.

30 Weeks

Here we go, week thirty, which means ten more weeks until we get to meet our little man. Thirty weeks also means people are really starting to notice and can hardly help from commenting, especially here on this island where having babies is a big, special ting. 

Most of the comments range from, "Wow, you aren't very big for almost eight months" to, "Holy shit, are you having twins? How do you breath? Are you okay?" And only as Cruzan woman can, the most common comment, "You're fat!", my favorite, by the way, especially when it  comes from the mouth of a not so thin woman. I have learned to get over the fat comments though and realize this is not the mainland of the image obsessed, but the land of goodness and johnny cakes.

My favorite part of pregnancy is the connection people feel with you, men and woman alike. I have never experienced such kindness as when I am pregnant. All want to guess the sex by my appearance and the roundness of my belly or the way I am carrying. Most guess boy which is cool because with the girls, everyone without a doubt knew at first glance that I was carrying a girl. Some want to rub the belly which I welcome. Why? For one it feels good (I am weird, yes) and secondly, I think the baby deserves all the love he can get. Transfer all the good energy you can to the little guy. We thank you.

Mothers and grandmothers love to talk about their experiences, which I could chat about forever. In St. Croix, many of the older woman can still boast that they gave birth to a brood of six or ten and I bow to their expertise. The group of broad chested cops I walked by yesterday all wanted guess how many months I was and make jokes and laugh together. Seriously, you all care? How awesome. 

The most precious baby spectator I have discovered though is Nyah, who has taken an almost protective roll to her, "Baby brudr". She often discusses his birthday, "Is it today?" and has become an expert in feeling his movements. If she doesn't feel him move after about five-seconds of resting her short fingers on him, she concludes, "He is sleeping, shhh". The best feeling though, hands down, is when she engulfs herself around the bump that is him and rests her head in the most loving hug. 

Someone once told me that babies bring the love. It's so true, there is nothing more beautiful or universal.

It's a Go

We have the ultrasound pics of baby boy taped to one of our cabinet doors. A special place away from the photo and art work cluttered fridge door, the perfect location to display our latest creation. I glance at the fuzzy black and white images daily, letting my imagination run free. I often catch George pausing in passage to take yet another look at the little man in our life, who we are both so eager to meet. I look and think. He looks and thinks and the other day he finally said it. I admit, the thought has been hanging out in my mind too, floating around in there somewhere, not quite developed and definitely not worthy of verbalizing but when George came out with it the other day, I could do nothing but agree.

"Do you think that could be his umbilical cord?"

"Do you think it's disproportional to his body or is it just me?"

Mind you, neither of us have never seen an ultrasound of a boy, but dang.

So, though I don't really care, and in all relevance of important things in life, this sits pretty low, I have been allowing myself to think, what if he is really a she? It happens to families all the time, right? Mistaken ultrasounds. I have been psyching myself up just incase the little one decides to surprises on labor day. But today my friends, all side thoughts and hesitations in excitement were put to rest. My co worker did quick ultrasound to check for the manly goods and oh let me tell you, they were all there, beautifully there. No umbilical cord in the way. Its boy ladies and gentlemen, baby brother 100% confirmed.

It was so nice to see the little dude again. He looks perfect. The hesitation in my mind has been replaced by anticipation and excitement deep in the pit of my growing abdomen. Can't wait to get my hands on my baby and make a momma's boy of him (don't tell George).

Here's One For St. Lucia

The girls had the amazing opportunity today to get in touch with their St. Lucian roots and join their family in the celebration of the 32nd anniversary of St. Lucia's independence from the British. What a beautiful day we had. 


The celebration began with a church service (at the church George grew up attending) where George's parents sang enchanting songs in Patois (a dialect of French commonly spoken in St. Lucia) accompanied by steel drums, in a choir composed of mostly St. Lucians. The day continued with partying, food, more food and a whole lotta love. 


Nyah and Elsa's Aunt made them dresses for the celebration, a Madras (St. Lucian cultural dress), to match the choir. Their Aunt of course dressed them up (because I had no clue) and did their hair (because I can't be trusted, obviously). Guess who loved every minute of it? 

Many times through the day I found myself being overcome with these odd emotions as I witnessed the display of love, pride and loyalty for St. Lucia from those who still hold her so close to their heart during the celebration. I can't imagine moving to another country with nothing, making whole new life for my family and struggling and working harder than ever imagined and being wildly successful at it. And as I am thinking this I look and up and there are George's parents dancing their way down the aisle, leading the choir processional, singing their native songs in their native dress in their native language and I lost it. Not completely, I swallowed it, but you know.

Elsa on the move with her Grandma.

Pregnancy emotions or not, today made me seriously realize that I am fully entrenched in this West Indian culture, particularly St. Lucian culture. I am making a new history for myself, for my children that we wouldn't have experienced in Indiana. George comes from such beautiful people, inside and out, and such a rich culture which I am honored to be a part of and have our daughters raised in. It is beyond words so I won't make an attempt but at one point during the afternoon, George's dad, with his sweet hug and huge smile whispered in my ear, "Do you fully see what you got yourself into now?" 


Yes. I think I do.

Our Happy Girl

Here is a little compilation of Elsa as we were cleaning and organizing yesterday. 


Warning: this video will probably only be interesting to my family but I felt inclined to share because it really shows Elsa's joyful personality. This little girl is so wonderful to be around, it hard to explain one's personality in words and do it justice but this video gives a little glimpse. Though let me not fail to mention that she has learned to throw herself on the floor and cry when things don't go her way, an act which even surprised her pediatrician. What can I say...she is advanced. Yeah. I know. We're in trouble. 


Final note, please ignore my silly comments, and all the laundry. I just finished it Wednesday night and it is already building up. Story of my life. Oh the things I would do for a washer and dryer. Guess that is for another post.