Right now, I'm enjoying

This book.  Love it.  Want a fun, great way to start off the new year?  Read it.  

On that note, I'm also loving this blog post. eshet chayil!

The fact that our neighboorhood peacock, Percy?, stops by every morning now. Have you met our peacock?  He's been here for about a year.  He is brave, arrogant, and loves to taunt my dogs.  He's also messy.  But look how beautiful he is!  The problem is he knows it.  And because of that he gets away with everything else.  I think he's also lonely.  Wanted: Single Female Peacock who isn't insurce with her guy having prettier feathers than she can ever dream of having.  Percy, no wonder you're single.   

The fact that this will be the last Christmas where I can't show you Milo's face. (By the way, it was a great Christmas.  Full of family, huddled close together.  There was much laughter this Christmas.  And for the first time in Zamora family history, the Hacker is NOT taking back my gift.  This is huge people.  I am a terrible gift giver.  I admit, I had help. But either way, I was finally victorious.  mini whoot-whoot for me.)

Rediculous, but warm fuzzy socks. Because it is unseasonbly cold here.

Electric blankets, for that matter. I know, I'm a whimp.  Self-proclaimed whimp.  

The sound of Leeland filling the halls of our home right now.

The smell of left over Panatone being made into bread pudding for tonight's party. 

My littles.  They make each other laugh now, which can bring on a 10 mintue session, of just laughter.  Can anything really be better?

A new year.  A fresh start.  Oh, too look back at the beginning of the year, to where we are now. God is good.  

I read this post a few days before Christmas and I thought I'd share:

"It's Christmas and we were not made for this world. We weren't made for the lights or the crack bark or the horse ribbon tree. Those things can't complete us, perfect us, transform us into people with lives that never bend at unnatural angles.

Here we are, down on uneven dirt, clawing for a glimpse of glory through a broken pane.

Just like that, we find one. We look past the cracks and the smudges and we see the baby face of freedom. We memorize Him, love Him, pray to want more of Him.

We're captivated only by Him.

His light falls around us, reflects off of us, and we reach out and grab hold of it like a hand.

This is why the days feel dark when the rest of the world says they shouldn't. We're homesick. We know a shoddy replacement when we see one.

Turn to the side and catch His light. Turn to the side and reflect His light onto someone hiding heart-shattered in the shadows.

This is the reason for the season.

The rest is just decoration." from Flowerpatch Farmgirl.  

Amen.  Happy New Year friends.  

i'm in a mood. you have been warned.

I sound like a 100 year old smoker with a frog in her throat.  As to not get too graphic on a Wednesday night, I'll leave it as it's scratchy and I've been trying to clear it for over 24 hours now. 

All that to say, I'm happy to typing to have our chat instead of using my toadish voice.  

all of today's photos are brought to you by my phone via instagram.  normal pictures will return shortly.

Christmas time is hear full force.  

It took us three days to completely decorate our tree, but she's finally dressed in all her beauty.  Please don't mind that I personified our Christmas tree and made her a she. And to complete this rabbit trail I call her Gladys.  She is a beaut.  Most of the Christmas cards have been signed, addressed, and are in their trucks traveling to loved ones.  Or in the post office sitting in a pile next to yours.  

We are making a conscious effort to be present and together this season.  Bedtimes are being ignored in lieu of nighttime walks to view the twinkling neighborhood, along with a little bit of this and a little bit of that. Pickles, and even Milo are too young to fully get this, but one year it'll stick.

I love little babies' eyes growing as wide as Japanese Anime as they soak it in.  Apparently I'm in a mood tonight. Please forgive.  They soak in the twinkling lights, the smells of cinnamon and pine, and the sounds of carols as the notes dance from room to room filling every square inch of the bungalow.

I look at their faces and I pray.  I pray that they will be able to enjoy the wonders of this season without becoming distracted their pupose.  I pray that as we give gift to those we love, to those we want to know more, and even to those we don't know at all, never will, but are in need; I pray that He is glorified.  That we never make much the means to worship instead of the One worthy of of it.  

I'm learning.  I'm not perfect, and my parenting and woshiping isn't either.  But I am mindfully aware that our actions, more so than our words are on display.  

And little anime eyes aren't missing a step.

I think I should pour myself a cup of tea now, but hot chocolate sprinkled with cinnamon sounds so much cozier.

The good kind of busy...Thanksgiving 2012

In my opinion there are two types of busy.  There is the kind of busy where you feel thrown into a whirlwind, and you're not sure when it'll stop, but you're just begging for it to.  And then there is the other kind.  The kind that is good for you, and you know it.  It fills your soul full of memories, and stirs in you a thirst for more.  The kind that makes you sad when it's all over.  That's been our kind of busy this past weekend. 

Its been busy with family, friends, traditions, each other, love.  Our time is precious, and we've been spending it with others.  It's made our hearts full.  

It was my third year hosting Thanksgiving.  I love having my home full during the holidays. 

I want this home to be the nucleus of family and traditions for my kids.  And this year it was. 

We feasted.  This year's turkey was my best one yet.  However, I failed taking a photo of the darn bird.

One of my favorite traditions:  My mom bakes a pie for everyone who comes, and then we share. 

The day after Thanksgiving has always been family day.  We decorated our house, minus the tree.  They're not for sell yet around these parts.  

We visited a new park.  And ended our day with a trip to Grandma and Grandpa's house for chili and corn bread. A childhood memory I hope to pass down to the littles.

It was a busy weekend with us hosting surprise party for a 13 year old, running errands, visiting with friends, and decorating for Christmas.  But it was the rejuvenating busy.  And I am thankful for it.  

Christmas time is upon us. Love it.

A Shower and Some Solace

As much as I want to live in the moment, there is always a part of me longing for the weekends.  Sure, we have a blast Monday through Friday, but weekends seem like a fresh start.  We can ignore the shortcomings of the week and bloom something new and beautiful during these two days as a family.  

This weekend was a combo:  part busy and crazy, and part slow, healing, and rejuvenating.  

I helped host a baby shower for our dear friend Jenny on Saturday.  

The baby will be her second, but first girl.  It was fun to get back in touch with my girly side.  I miss it and it's something different from the normal testosterone that usually roams the halls of the yellow bungalow.  

It was such a special time.  Filled with only family and the closest of friends,  I loved how intimate and lovely a smaller shower allowed.  We prayed.  How we prayed for momma and baby, and daddy and big brother too.  We cried full of thanks-giving for this blessed family.  I loved seeing both Grandmas lay their hands on their daughter and praise our Father for all that He has given.  It was special.  

And Mommy Jenny glowed. 

                           

Sunday was the opposite of Saturday.  We lingered a little longer at home and enjoyed the solace of our little family. 

Milo and Toby have a love/hate relationship.  Toby loves to smell Milo, Milo hates Toby being in his face.  Milo loves to pull on Toby's ears/tail/jowls/back, Toby hates Milo's "love pets."  We continually are teaching Milo how to be gentle, and he continues to show us that learning takes time and we need to learn patience.  

Happy Monday.  

Not many Tricks, mostly Treats

Let the Wild Rumpus Begin!

I never went trick or treating as a child, quoting Taylor Swift, "like ever!"  My family did "Fall Festivals" at my elementary school.  They were in the gymnasium and with games, a cake walk, a "spooky walk" with grape eyeballs and spaghetti brains.  It was fun.  But I knew.  I knew what trick or treating was, and I knew I was missing out.  It wasn't all my parents fault, the condos in Santa Monica didn't really make it trick or treating accessible.  But I promised myself that I would trick or treat with my kids. In this one small area, I would live vicariously through my kids. 

Pickles was Mickey Mouse that Michael carried all night.  And Milo was our little Wild Thing Max for Halloween.

We headed out early for Milo's (and mine, really) first trick or treating experience.  Grandparents came along and stayed on the sidewalk as we slowly walked up to neighbors doors, probably interrupting dinner.  Milo loves knocking on doors, and was just as tickled with one tiny piece of candy as a full size. 

It was a shiny night full of sparkles.  Yes, we brought glow sticks with us.  But more than that, it was bright because we are growing to love our neighbors and they are beginning to love us.  At each house, we stopped and visited for a while.  They scooped up our Wild Thing in their arms as they cooed over our boys and wanted to know the latest in our lives.    

Every year we've lived in the Yellow Bungalow, we've set up a table on our porch.  We hand out glow sticks and candy to the kiddies and hot apple cider for the grown ups.  After we were done trick or treating, we fed the boys and put Pickles to bed.  We let Milo stay up later to help us pass out the goodies.  

We soaked it up.  We relished in the glow of the lights, the distant laughter of running kids, the parents coming up to our porch to warm their hands with hot cinnamon cider.  There were screams caused by the junior high kid down the block scarring the littles.  He does it every year.  And the kids love it. It was a great night.

And I am so thankful.  

Hope your night was just as sparkly.  

Apple Pickin' - a family tradition

One of my favorite childhood memories is "apple valley."  When I was a kid, my cousins and I would go with our parents to this magical place.  We would pick apples, press them into cider, sample apple butter, and cap the day off in a cozy restaurant with a slice of homemade apple pie with American cheese on top.  I loved it because it was something we did every year, together, as a giant family. 

When my cousin Sarah and I got a little older, maybe junior high, my parents tried to recreate the memory.  So we woke up early, and headed out to "apple valley."  The thing is: the real Apple Valley isn't where we would go as kids.  It's actually two hours in the wrong direction, in the middle of nowhere.  It turns out just our family called it "apple valley" because, well, they sold apples. Not only that, but once we were out in the middle of nowhere, our car kept breaking down every 10 miles.  We spent the entire day looking for our "apple valley." It became so ridiculous, that every time the car would break down, we just would laugh.  I think we all had cabin fever.  We finally got home around 10pm that night, never seeing an apple, but instead creating a new memory.  One that we still laugh about today.  It was special.  Imperfect in every way, but ours.  

So, being a product of my parents, I too wanted to recreate the original "apple valley" known to the rest of the world as Oak Glen with my family.

 We made new family traditions with help from the old.  

We picked apples from the ground and from the branches, where the proper way is to twist, not pull. 

There were so many tiny gems in each farm that we visited.  A field of marigolds, and reds and oranges.

Riley's Apple Farm had little sections set up, perfect for an impromptu photo shoot.  

 Willowbrook farm was a favorite.  It was small, but had personality to boot.

Milo's favorite game wasn't apple pickin' but throwin'.  So we gave him already bruised apples that we knew were going to be pressed into cider, and hid the good ones in the stroller.

We found a four legged friend, he followed us around for a while. 

"Both heirlooms and good traditions strengthen our sense of history and belonging.  As Christians, our history is God's story of drawing us into his family. (2 Corinthians 6:18)

"I turn from the generation who came before me and look toward the children who come after me.  I want the story they live to resonate with the history written by that great Author of the universe. " Noel Piper in Treasuring God in Our Traditions  

I'll leave you with our Family photo - crop shot style.  

What are your favorite fall traditions?

Happy Autumn, 

Kristin

pickin' pumpkin's

We couldn't go pumpkin' pickin' last year because he was still considered "medically fragile."  But boy, did we make up for it yesterday.

It was cloudy, windy, almost stormy-like when we first arrived.  The clouds threatened with rain, and the wind warned with a chill in the air.  But we threw caution to the wind, and snubbed our noses at the clouds.  Daddy had taken off early just for this adventure, so by golly, it was happening!  I'm so glad we did.  Within minutes, the sun conquered all and shone on us with all its glory.  

We cherished the little things, and soaked them all up:

The attempts to pick up pumpkins heavier than he is.

Walls of sunflowers guiding us through the farm as we wandered.  The tractors and corn mazes, which are lost on a 1 year and 4 month old.  

The laughter that comes from being scooped up in Daddy's arm after a runaway chase. 

I love watching them together.  They share a bond like no other.

This is called wagon surfing.  It's gonna be a thing.

This is called wagon sitting.  It's already a thing, but not quite as exciting.

If you wouldn't mind indulging me in my self pity for just a moment: It is becoming increasingly more difficult not to show his face to you all.  I mean, kid's got a cute butt and all, but I think his face is slightly cuter.  That's also why pickles isn't in these photos.  All of them show his precious mug.  There I said it, I'm done now.  Thanks for listening and letting me have my moment.  

website acceptable family photo.  don't we look amazing? crotch shot. Okay, now I'm done.

I took these with my phone:

An evening full of family, love, and fairytale pumpkins.  (my favorite)

We enjoyed it all. 

Our home now looks like I finally embraced fall.  

Happy Wednesday everyone, 

Kristin

A new perspective of beauty

Mornings here usually consist of dogs wrestling and chasing each other down the hallway, Milo crying because I can't fill his cup of milk fast enough, and Pickles letting us all know that we have failed at keeping him the center of attention.  I have the crazy mornings where I am rushing around, drowning out the chaos to the Weepies, and don't really have my act together.

But once in a while, God gives me peaceful gifts like yesterday.  Mornings that I do dishes looking out my window in silence. (Actually I think I was quietly listening to this.) Mornings where I am able to appreciate the beauty enough to take a few pictures.  They may not be gallery wall worthy, in fact, I know they're not.  But to a mom of two under two, this has become beautiful:

My happy place:

My weekend fall projects:

I'm back to washing bottles, nippes, and formula cartidges again.  

But he's worth it.

Why do we want to nibble chunky thighs and fat little piggies? Just me, well then, nevermind.

And then the sleephead wakes up, quietly eats, and calmly colors.

Okay, so he bangs the crayons on the highchair like drumsticks.  But I colored, and coloring is calming.  You should try it. 

As a reward for letting Mommy have an hour of peace this morning, sleepyhead watched his favorite show:

For about 10 minutes, then the chaos began.  But I was ready.    

Happy Friday everyone,

Kristin

happy where I am

You ever feel like "well, if I only lived with place like this near by, it would make things more interestiing."  No?  Just me? I have imagined this "middle America" where there are farmer's markets on every corner, firefiles that illuminate the hot summer nights, small neighborhood coffee shops where coffee is only served with mugs and they have the orange couches just like our old friends, and hole in the wall ice cream shops that are a neighborhood staple.  

But instead, what I need to be inspried to dig deeper into my own backyard, and find the hidden treasures that lie within.    

Enter my friend Jackie.  On Tuesday, she gathered a group of mommies for a playdate at this special place.  

It was exactly what I was wanting.  And it is so close, we're going to make it a habit.

(Why yes, that is my kid, and only my kid, crying over the fake chicken show.)

Jenny and Jimmy and baby Mannley.

Look at the produce, people!  

Next time, we are picking roma tomatoes and whatever else is in season.  

And the truth is, I need to be grateful for where I am, because this is in my backyard as well.

And, for now, I wouldn't have it any other way.

God has you right where you are, this weekend, find joy in it.  Find joy in Him.

happy friday love,

Kristin 

Happy Brithday Jackie, I love you.

15 things since the last time...

I am not going to apologize for not blogging.  I've done that enough.  

Instead, here are 15 things I want to share with you since my last posting.

1.  His name is Milo.  And we couldn't be happier to say we're adopting him. (I can't show his face until the adoption is final.)

2. Milo had his 1st birthday in May. (Yes, it's been that long.  I already feel bad about it.  Don't make it worse.) It was Dodger baseball themed, full of family and friends, hot dogs and nachos, cotton candy and cracker jacks, and prayer and laughter.  It was a good, hot day.

3.  This past spring, Susan moved out (tears and smiles) to start a new adventure.  And Milo moved into his big boy room.  We're working on his room right now, my inspiration.  We miss Susan.  She brought laughter, wisdom, and fizzy gluten free cookies.  There are so many times that I have said, "I wish Susan was here to see/hear/laugh at this."  I miss her dearly.

4.  I got a part time dream job.  I am now the "Early Childhood Director" in the Children's Ministry department of our church.  It's pretty much an answer to prayer I didn't even pray.

5. Michael, being a man of his word, took me to the Hollywood Bowl this summer.  Good food, friends, wine + Hollywood Bowl = perfect summer night.

(photo by jen burkhardt via Instagram)

6. I got lost in audiobooks this summer.  My favorite one that I plan to read again and again was this.  Although I really enjoyed this, and this, and this one too.   I seriously can't do dishes, vacuum, or mop without a good book between my ears. (Don't dwell on how weird that sounded, just move right along.) 

7. Milo went from getting around by doing this

to mainly doing this.

8.  My baby is walking. Whaaaa! Oh wait, Milo can you go get that for Mommy?  Thank you.   That was convenient. 

9.  Michael and I took the whole family (Milo, Dexter, and Toby) camping to Hume Lake.  I don't like camping, but I love my friends.  Friends always trump my distain for camping.  They're that great.

Dexter learned to swim in the lake.  He also learned how to pee and poop in it, but I opted not take those pictures. Toby, true to form, sank.

Milo, raise the bucket in front of your face, like you're eating sand, so I can show everyone how beautiful the lake is.

Thank you, son.

10.  At the end of July, we got our second foster placement.  

We'll call him Pickles for now.  Milo and him are just over a year apart. 

You will notice two things in this picture.  1.  Yes, Milo's nails are dirty. He's a boy. 'Nough said.  2. Yes, Pickles is pretty much, well, clear.  

Milo is intrigued by him.  He loves giving him kisses, and then non-maliciously pushing him away, and on to the next thing.  No jealousy issues, thankfully.  

And I. Am. Busy. 

11. It's hard not to compare.  Pickles is younger than Milo was when we got him, fussier, whiter (obviously), and already has his own personality.  He smiles in the stillness, cooes in the calm.  All he asks for his your undivided attention. He holds his fists tightly together, across his chest, on gaurd.  And when he's not in his element?  He screams.  It's a baby's prerogative.  

We don't know what the future holds with Pickles.  We're not in control of it.  I know that.  And then I forget, so then I relearn it, until the next time I forget.  

12.  I still get embarrassed when my babies cry in public.  I just don't have time to apologize for it now.  I've become one of those moms.  

13.  The yellow bungalow has taken a backseat lately.  The weeds are growing in my backyard, the ivy needs to be trimmed back, and I haven't pruned my roses in months.  Don't judge too harshly, please.  I still mop daily, okay every other day.  

14.  I need a vacation.  Maui, Cabo, or any tropical place will do.  Donations are accepted.  Checks can be made out to me.  Thank you.

15.   I still love to blog.  It's therapeutic, and I've missed it. I never want to feel obligated to blog, and I don't. But I have noticed, the longer I go between posts, the harder it is to get back into it.  There have been countless times this summer, I've wanted to write and share, but never bit the bullet.  Until now.  And it's good to be back.

love,

Kristin