Our Boxes

Scrounging around upstairs, I found tupperware boxes that my Mom had set aside for each of us kids. Mine was filled with progress reports, pictures, birthday cards, letters, and drawings. I slowly went through the Camille box savoring the trip down memory lane.

Then I set my eyes upon my mother's box.

Yes, she has a box, too. And, even though I had permission to look, there is someting about looking at pictures of your pre-children parents that feels intrusive. I slowly sifted through my Mom's pictures: her as a little girl with a sheep that she raised for 4-H...Mom as a teenager with her brown hair set perfectly...Loralu as a young mother. It was incredible. I relished the resemblance- that there were many pictures of her that looked exactly like me. (Well, besides the fact that she is at least 20 pounds skinnier and has legs up to my armpits.)

I found love letters that my Dad had written for her when they were dating. I read cards that she received when I was born. It was a box of treasures. And then I realized that, one day, our kids will look through a box to see the life that Adam and I live right now. That our moments and days will be compounded into a tangible (and invisible, yes) legacy that our ancestors can browse.

And then I got dizzy because it felt like life was going by really quickly.

P.S. I will have to scan some of the aforementioned pictures in for the blog. They are awesome!

Pampered Daughter

The nice thing about being at my folk's house, besides the obvious bonding and love and constant companionship, is the pampering. Thus far, my parents have insisted that I....

1. get my hair done (at Rumo's barber shop...I love it, see above picture)

2. get a manicure (dark brown with sparkles)

3. go out to eat at a fancy restaurant while Adam visits (The Bistro...delicious!)

Growing up as the only girl and the youngest child had it's perks. It's good to be the queen again.

The Brown Van

It's funny- being home brings back a lot of memories. In fact, you're surrounded by reminders of childhood joys and embarassments. In my bathroom here, for example, there is a framed copy of a poem that I wrote on the way to Florida.

Every summer of my entire life, we have gone to Florida for a week with our dear family friends, the Thompson's. This is a beloved tradition and we do it up right- no leaving the house except for the grocery store...& putt-putt trips during my youth.

For a long stretch, we always piled up into an old brown van owned by Mama Thompson's father. This van was special. It had two captain's chairs in the middle row. The back row of seats folded down into a flat bed in which my two older brothers and Greg Thompson would sit on my head and fart for the 7-hour drive (I was the youngest). It was in this loved dookie-brown van that I wrote this poem on the floor (seatbelts were optional) while passing through Mobile, Alabama in the summer of 1991. Without further ado:

Florida, by Camille Conville
(this recitation is by memory, I am currently in the living room)

Florida, the sunshine state
You can get a pole and fish with bait
Or you could be a pretty good captain's mate!

If you don't know what to do
go fishing or putt-putting too!

There's lots of good food to eat
from oranges to seafood meat.

If you have very tired feet,
sand can be fun and make a good seat.
I think you'll find Florida pretty neat!

Oh, I'm so glad that my parents chose to immortalize these words on the wall of the bathroom.

My Mama's House

Henry & I are at my parents' house (which used to be my house, ages 1-18). PERFECT time of year for us to be down here in the warmth (well, relatively warm) and SUNSHINE! Yes, yesterday Henry was crawling across the living room floor here and came across a sunbeam that was streaming in through the window, stretching across the floor. He slowly moved his hand into the sun...out of the sun...into the sun...out of the sun. Like, what could this warm gloriousness be?

It's wonderful.

Mush, Mama, Mush!

Henry, Powers and I were finally able to try out the sleigh that my parents got us for Christmas today. (Sorry Adam, you snooze, you lose. Actually, you go to work, you lose).

Henry laughed so hard because Powers kept nibbling at the bottom of the sleigh and barking at it (he also did this to our skateboards in college). Of course, when I ran to get the camera, he wouldn't crack a smile. It was lots of fun and a good way to get outside during January!

I haven't missed my aunt...

but she came to visit, anyway. For the first time since July of 2008. (That, my friends, is just an added bonus of pregnancy and breastfeeding.)

Too much?

Oi 2010!

My resolution to get out and about daily has come to a screeching halt. I have not left our house since Friday.

In my defense, Adam was home with us and it was WINTER outside.

Like, very winter. Muy winter. Uber-winter.

2010 came in with a bang. Actually, not a bang...a band. Band Hero that we played at a party while Henry miraculously stayed awake and happy until 11 pm (The 7:00 nap might've helped).

2009 was a year of miracles and heartbreaks. Henry came and we rejoiced. A dear friend lost her son and we wept. We gave ourselves to new roles, new seasons. My daily responsibilities shifted from my cubicle to my family. We loved our little home one day, we yearned for heaven the next. We laughed until we cried, we argued and we saw more body fluids than we knew. We were hit with the weight, the heaviness of covering this little guy. We failed on our own, we triumphed as the Lord made a way.

And now that the snow has ceased, the first grocery trip of 2010 must commence. We missed our weekend trip and had Blizzards from Dairy Queen for supper last night (no complaints here).
Happy 2010- peace, joy & love.