Wheels of Her Own

She has been getting by on a seven dollar plastic bike I picked up for her from a garage sale down the road. She couldn't reach the pedals, but I guess it served its purpose. 

Indiana is the place for garage sales in the summer. Opening your garage door and spreading all your junk on your driveway with little price tags on everything is the thing to do 'round here. There is bound to be one just around any corner on any given day, with the regulars scouring for that gem of a bargain, hunting for their treasure. Pretty amazing if you are into that type of thing.

But, the other day I realized that she needed the real deal. Needed to keep up. Was eager and ready to learn and that the seven dollar piece of plastic wasn't anywhere close to becoming a treasure. So we splurged on a classic and it fits her like a glove.

 Now if we could just get her to pedal.

But she isn't worried with things like pedaling because there is always someone around to push her, and she likes the helmet much better anyway.

And I am sure someday, after he takes his first steps and gets that itchin' to keep up, he will inherit this bike and will ride with the best of them, but today just wasn't that day.

Oh. And for the record, I don't typically dress my children in Disney clothes, but I came across this shirt for Elsa the other day and Ariel happens to be a big player in our house lately (not from the movie but stories). So we went there and it absolutely made her sister's day. Totally worth it

Carwash

George sold his Jeep this week, the ultimate island ride, but not before the girls had one last go around with her.

How can a car (a mere material possession) become so synonymous with a person? This Jeep was George in an odd way, what he rode in daily or for fun since I met him way back when. As old couples begin to look like each other and complete each others sentences, to the girls and I, George and his Jeep had this going on. It was all him.

The girls knew the unique hum of the engine to an eerie perfection as he would turn our corner, arriving home. The sound of the door cuing Nyah to assume her usual position, hiding under a sheet or something and Elsa to run to the door shrieking. Same thing. Everyday.

It's a shame I had to crop the bottom half of all these pictures out. Nothing more adorable than to see these bare little ba'nas hard at work. The concentration and true sense of purpose and determination the girls showed while washing their Dad's beloved Jeep was priceless, their love for him shining through in their labors. I am sure to the girls, Dad will always drive a red Jeep (but Nyah could only dream it was a rental car).

Elsa was obviously just happy to have her clothes off, finally. 

Island Living

We have some major changes and choices approaching us in life. No, I am not pregnant. I am already pregnant, remember? I know it seems this is the only surprise I am capable of. As we brainstorm and evaluate life, we am being forced to figure out what we want from life for both our happiness but more importantly our families well being.


As I was getting out of the shower last night (where I do some of my best thinking) because we ran out of hot water (common occurrence here), I began to think about what it is that really attracts me to St. Criox and island living. With a shiver, I then wrapped myself in my thin, dry towel. The thin towel is key for me. I am guiltily, I used to be the connoisseur of the thickest, plushest, most expensive hotel towel to engulf myself in but now the thought of one makes me ill. To me, thick and plush means the towel will not dry completely in the moist environment we live in and that I will have a mildew treat built up on the towel by my next shower and well, that is just sick. Clean off in the shower just to wrap yourself in mold, now thats hot.


It is little things like this, so different from mainland life, but things I love about living on an island. To me, life is real here and I seem to do better with it. I am weird, I am fully aware, but it works for me. It works for me to wash my dishes after each use and to conserve as much water as possible while doing so because WAPA (Water and Power Authority) is so absurdly expensive here. It works that I have to make sure each and every crumb is accounted before or ants or bugs will feast. Love that I have hang my washcloth outside on the clothes line each night or it will infect my counters with mold if used in the morning. I relish in the fresh breeze that blows through our house, even in the hot months, because this is real, though I might be sweating or pissed at the mosquitoes, this is what real life is like.


This is just the beginning, a small look into my daily chores which are made different because I live in the tropics. Why does it work for me? I am not sure. Every action has a result, a price to pay and I like it that way. Life is not easy, no dishwasher, washing machine, no cheap groceries, less than outstanding customer service, rough public schools, long lines, bumpy roads, frequent power outages, (I could go on and on). But to me, there is beauty at every turn, culture, and diversity, and adventure, which I am finding I thrive in. 


I remember during my grandmother's first visit to the island she said something along the lines of, "I don't get the attraction". Ouch. I totally get it though, this isn't Hawaii, you have to look beyond some things to find the beauty. I can only imagine what the cruise ship passengers think as they land in Frederiksted.


But, I guess what I am saying is I feel guilty with abundance, I am a proud American but the abundance we can be faced with daily on the mainland is a bit much for me, it isn't fair and honestly, it weighs on my conscious. Don't get me wrong, we are far from third world here but we are definitely a step down from America.


I love that our girls are being raised to be conscious of themselves of their impact in this world, in beauty, in nature, barefoot, and in a diverse environment, without constant consumer driven images being shoved down their throat of what they she look like, should be, should buy.  Can this way of life be found other places or is it just about making it happen?

So as life comes at us again, I have to think, for all of the frustrations, would I want to live on the mainland again, could I live by the clock again, sit in traffic, wear shoes, unload a days full of dishes from the dishwasher, go to a mega shopping mall, have everything at my finger tips?  Not sure but frightened to try.


I will keep you posted as things but we are first trying to figure things out for ourselves. But for now,

Wishing you all a beautiful day.

The Soul of Her Shoe

I can no longer hide my love and must share my affection for, wait for it... a shoe (of all things). Pedipeds, a soft soled shoe and our shoe of choice to cover the toes for our tiniest soul learning to walk this Earth. I am a firm believer that barefoot is best, especially when learning to put foot to Earth, but if the foot must be covered I am convinced this is the next best thing.

We once tried a different soft soled shoe but one orphan remains on the ground in some airport, never completing the journey home. None stay on the squirmy little piggies quite like these. Strong and durable, Elsa has just outgrown her first pair, handed down from her big sister and another pair given to us by a dear friend. Her great grandmother has given her another pair which she is putting the miles in, getting them nice and broken in.  I enjoy looking at her old pair of Pedipeds and think of all she has accomplished in them, first steps, traveling, climbing, exploring, running, chasing, discovering.

Though Elsa has left her mark, her foot print repeatedly press into soles of these old pairs, they are still going strong, just sitting here, waiting to be given to the next little mamma to strut her stuff in. Will they grace the feet of a new sister? Time will tell, nonetheless, these shoes no doubt have many more years of life in their souls.

Most important of all, Elsa loves these shoes, the first of I am sure many which will accompany her in life. She is proud of her shoes, and definitely knows they are hers.