The Best Kind of Saturday

This past weekend was wonderful. And it wasn't just Father's Day that made it so great- Saturday we had another fun family day that still has me smiling. It was our town's annual Tsunami on the Square, which is an all-ages, outdoor performing arts and culture festival. It's always so much fun and there is a ton to look at, which was great for Henry. There were people on stilts, people in costume, fire eaters, hula hoopers, and live music everywhere you turned. It was truly a visual treat for Henry, and he spent most of the day eyes wide, staring at everything around him. 

It's days like this that make me fall in love with this town all over again. When I was younger I always imagined myself living in a big city, people and culture and things to do at every turn. But I somehow ended up here, in this small town, and I couldn't imagine a better place to raise a family. It's not for everyone, but small town living is definitely for me.

Here are some photos from our day. And for those who asked on the last post and via Twitter, I use a Nikon D60 and almost always use my 35mm lens. I also tried out a friend's Photoshop action set on these images that I'll share more about later in the week. I might say this for awhile, but again, I am SO happy I'm been bringing my camera out and about. It makes me so much more excited to blog, and so much more inspired to stop and notice all the pretty little moments in life that are so easy to skim over. 

Here are some bits and pieces from our Saturday:
 

Father's Day in Flagstaff

This year for Father's Day I decided it would be fun to take Hank and Henry on a mini-road trip up to Flagstaff, to enjoy some of our favorite foods and a change of scenery. Flag will always hold a super special place in my heart, as I went to all four years of college there (and graduate school too!), so no matter when we go, it's always a great experience. Some of the best times of my life were spent in that little town, and every time I find myself making my way up that way on the I-17 my stomach flips a little, in the most excited way. Flagstaff is definitely my happy place, and I love that Hank adores it just as much as I do.

We got up bright and early this morning and arrived in Flagstaff around 9:30am. Our first stop was Hank's favorite coffee shop, Macy's. He got a coffee and we split a "birdseed" treat, which is really just a whole lot of nuts and seeds pressed into a peanut butter base. Delicious. We spent the rest of the day walking around, enjoying the crisp mountain air that is so similar to ours but yet somehow so different, and eating lots of yummy food. Our favorite Thai restaurant Dara Thai was closed today so we decided to eat at an old favorite, Pita Jungle. Henry loves hummus so we knew it was pretty foolproof, and we had a great meal.  We arrived home later in the evening, exhausted but so, so happy to have spent such a fun day together as a family.

Here are some photos, mainly from my regular camera and a couple little collages from my iPhone. And on a side/related note- it's only been two days of taking my camera out more places with us and I couldn't be happier. Nothing's better than pretty photos to capture such special memories!

Happy Father's Day!

Father & Son

Don't marry a man unless you would be proud to have a son exactly like him.

Sometimes there will be these moments of bright clarity in the middle of play. I'll see Hank and Henry together, smiles and laughter, the sheer joy they bring to each others' lives so apparent, and it stops me dead in my tracks. Hank is a great man; he is kind, compassionate, loving, and truly sees the joy in every little thing. And because of all that and more, he is a wonderful father. Seeing the man I love as a parent has been one of the most beautiful things about becoming a mother, and it's the little moments like the one captured above, that I live for.

Growing up I dated a lot. I dated all sorts of guys; nice guys, overly nice guys, fun guys, some not-so-fun guys, and a handful of jerks too. When I was much younger, and before I figured out that I was worth being made a priority, I found myself trying to make something out of nothing a few too many times. But I wised up, I figured it out. I started to look at my parents' relationship, happily married for 30+ years, and I thought about who I wanted to end up with, what he would be like.

Before I met Hank I had sworn off serious relationships. I was 21 and enjoyed being "free"- I loved dating and preferred to do as I pleased, without taking into consideration anyone else as a major part of my life outside my family and friends. But my entire world shifted when I met my future husband, and suddenly here was someone that I could almost immediately see in my future, as scary as that seemed in the moment.

Those years went by so quickly- we fell in love, I relocated to his small town, we moved in together, we got engaged. And there is one thing I remember so distinctly from our engagement party, a specific moment that stands out above all of the laughter and stories and food we shared that night.  A good friend of mine pulled me aside and told me that her mother once said to her, "Don't marry a man unless you would be proud to have a son exactly like him." She wanted to share this with me because she knew that any son of ours would be as wonderful as the best guy we all knew, and she was so happy and excited for our future together.

I think back to this day often, and that quote has stayed with me through the years. Every time I see Hank and Henry kicking a soccer ball, playing with blocks in the middle of the living room, or even reading a story together, I'm reminded. I see my little man trying to emulating my big man- trying on his shoes, the "dada dada dada," the way he lights up when Hank comes in the door after work. And sometimes, I'll see that little twinkle in Henry's eye when he's about to do something funny and I am reminded 100% of his sweet father. Henry is so young, but I can already see how kind he is, how warm and affectionate his heart is, and how silly and fun his spirit can be. It's amazing. I'm raising a boy who is going to be just like the man I married, and for this, I couldn't be happier.

Little bits of memory

I can still remember the beginning. That nervous anticipation during those first few long drives to visit Hank, my hands tapping on the steering wheel, my eyes in the rear view mirror checking and rechecking to see if I still looked alright. It was the beginning of our relationship and we lived two and a half hours apart, so I would often find myself making the trek from Phoenix, up the I-17 and into the mountains. That very first drive up is still so fresh in my mind; the Jets to Brazil I had on the stereo, my cracked window, the fresh August air that evening, and me, trying to relax when I was so, so nervous. It almost seemed too good to be true- everything was falling slowly into place, somehow. And then, after talking for hours and hours every night for weeks, writing so many letters back and forth, and finally going on our first date, Hank had invited me up to visit him in his little town. 

It's strange to go back to the beginning of us. It will be eight years this summer and parts of it seem so far away, and yet other moments I can remember in such crisp detail. If I think back I can still see Hank's first date outfit- his jeans, his American Nightmare hoodie, those Vans. I can immediately recall a handful of mornings waking up with him to the Weakerthans he set for our alarm, tangled blankets and tattooed limbs. I can remember the night Hank asked me to marry him, the way the stars shined so, so brightly in that clear February night, the way my breath blew out like smoke and our voices echoed in the empty square. I think back to our first apartment, the smell of new paint and cardboard boxes, and our second, the smell of fresh cut grass through the open windows. I can go back to our wedding day and remember looking down the aisle at Hank through the yellow and the white and all of our family and friends, all the way to the very end, to him waiting there for me. And I can see him when Henry was born, joy filling every corner of his face.

Memories are funny things. They change over time, they shift, they adapt. We keep what we want, small segments of our days, and the rest dissipates into a hazy fog. I hold tight to the things I want to remember- I take a second and try to capture it, all of it. My memories often feel so cloudy, floating in my mind, but then I'll be reminded of something, and one crystal clear moment will bob to the top, up and down, little bits and pieces becoming more clear.  With Hank I have eight years of these memories, good times and bad, trips and vacations and so much togetherness. My life has a distinct marker, a before and an after, and it's amazing to think about everywhere we've been, and to imagine everywhere we're going. And sometimes, when the weather is just right, I can crack my window, turn up the music, and I'm right back there again, 21-years-old at the very beginning.

We were one tree and not two...

This morning I woke up feeling so thankful for all of this beautiful-ness in my world. My family. The love that surrounds me. Opportunity. The ability I have to make changes, to move forward, and to live how I'd like. Freedom. And I got to thinking about how this one go-round is all about relationships- the connections we make with others- and I thought about all of the people in my life I consider the closest. So naturally I thought about Hank. I thought about what a good man he is, how kind-hearted he is, what a good father he is. I sat there for a minute, thinking about this husband of mine, lost in these lovely thoughts...and spilled hot tea all down the front of my chest. Ow. All happy thoughts flew out of my mind as a few curse words came flying out...but for a moment it was a beautiful. ;) Somewhere in there though I remembered this quote. I came upon it a few years back and I revisit it from time to time. It's about true love, and to me, it's perfect. And I think you'll like it too.

"Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being "in love" which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossoms had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two."

-Louis de Bernières